{the show-going time-travelling living room couch}

tonight, we came across one of barclay's old shows on vhs, from when he played guitar and sang in a band. it is, of course, great.

the whole thing is recorded on a borrowed video camera, and the quality is ok the people in it have no facial features or skin pigment. there's three guys in the band and their name is biased and they're 19 and they're playing a show at a college and there's even a rowdy little mosh pit happening up by the stage. 

 

so they're four songs in and i'm completely fascinated by this version of my husband that jumps around on the stage and sings punk songs and says silly things into the mic and i'm also laughing at some of the ways that he hasn't really changed, and then something kind of cheesy and sweet happens. 

"this one is for my wife," barclay says. the girls awww and the bassist laughs knowingly. barclay plays a chord and kind of chuckles. "i don't have a wife. i don't even have a girlfriend." whistles from the audience. "but this one is still for my wife. you know, someday."

and we're sitting here and i'm his wife and it's like a fantastic little time warp as 19 year-old single barclay sings for his wife seven years in the future as she sits with him on the show-going time-travelling living room couch.