Sinister: the long and short version tied into one.

[IsabelLark at xxx.com]

And so here it is, another rant. 

Well, I walk in and its as cold as a cube outside, so naturally everyone 
comments. I agree with a nodding half smile...and immediately put on my 
disinterested face. You know the one where you try like mad to look like you 
don't even realize that other people are in the room with you? You are 
sandwiched between things that touch your soul (or whatever on you gets 
touched) more than anything...and yet you struggle with pretentious looks and 
perfecting them. It's a business, to be sure. Buying records is a serious 
business and no cute counter boy looking at me, disinterestingly, looking at 
him disinterested is going to come between that. No matter how clever his 
remark on the weather.

And so it begins. I can't even be sure what it was I was looking for...and I 
usually don't even know until I am out the door what I got. I start with the 
cheap stuff...the used, abused, and scratched CDs...the ones that go for 
under 10. I never have any luck there, but it doesn't deter my efforts. I 
head for my eye squinting thumb walk through A to Z.  In this trip, however, 
I was just getting past Aerosmith (not really this shop doesn't carry that 
sort of shite.) and heading for Air Supply when I stumbled across Air Miami. 
I hadn't really heard it, but per my tape trading with the New Yorker...I 
knew they were good. and plus I knew that they were former members of Unrest. 
You are so seemingly fond of them...so Air Miami couldn't be all bad. I 
pulled it out and sat it to the side.

And on to the B's. In the B's there were the usual CDs...Bjork, Beastie 
Boys...all the ones that support my theory and argument that only ever comes 
up when I am drunk. Oddly enough that's the only time that it's persuading to 
anyone. I always know what I am trying to say...it's just getting the words 
to support it correctly. Anyway, I would go on about my theory of outgrowing 
music, etc., but I haven't had a drop to drink this evening, so I am going to 
skip this entirely.

So, I am in the B's...and there is Black Heart Procession for a more than 
reasonable rate. I take it out and sit it to the side with the Air Miami. I 
continue on and on...and reach the Y's, where I find Yo La Tengo no less "and 
then nothing turned itself inside out" I mean short of Yanni...what else 
would I find in the Y's?  So now it is atop Air Miami and Yo La Tengo. I 
wonder briefly about the fool who sold it or traded it or whatever. and I 
worry that I will run into him at some cozy little bar one night. He will 
come on to me...I will be flattered...we will go to his place and there will 
be no Yo La Tengo...I will be forced to confirm him the idiot that sold such 
a great piece of music. Doesn't he know that CD is special to me? I will be 
forced to dump him before we ever get started...the bastard! Now I can't stop 
thinking about who this person is and how I can avoid him...wasn't so brief 
afterall, eh?

So I made it through the "used" and figured I had done enough damage to my 
wallet for one evening.

I did see a GBV box set...thought about you. A good enough excuse since the 
only photo I have of you is in one of their shirts...and you like them so 
well. However, I didn't think you deserved it...or was it that I didn't 
deserve to give it to you? Anyway, I didn't even inquire, but I bet that you 
would have found it very cool. I talked about blocking the parking lot for a 
free concert for the fans of music with Chad, counter boy extraordinaire. He 
is different from the disinterested one. He is the owner, and full of 
ulterior motives. Anyway, we talked about how great that would be...and it 
would be great. We talked about me opening a little coffee shop next door and 
then a mutual friend of ours that has seemingly fallen off the face of the 
earth.

I glanced around for that blasted silly trojan horse box set that you joked 
about last time we were there together. I thought it would be good for a 
memory...maybe even a smile, but it was gone. I fear that the same boy that 
sold the Yo La Tengo used his profits to purchase that box set. I have got to 
stay away from that nut. I would have asked Chad about it, but I feared even 
more that it would confirm his notions that I was in fact the nut...I don't 
need that.

The other counter boy stayed ever so true to his look of disinterest. 
Frankly, I had genuinely grown disinterested in him and his phony looks, so 
it was nothing to me by then. I explained some things to Chad. He smokes a 
lot of weed, but I think he got it. I want to put in a couple of days a month 
on trade for music with him. We talked about this great lounge that I 
discovered on Saturday. Apparently I was the only one...but I don't get out 
much, so thats my excuse. Anyway, I only thought of you about 86 times on my 
trip to the record store...I really feel like I am making progress.-A
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