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(There's) Always Something There to Remind Me

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Recently it has come to my attention (and that is saying a lot) that tomorrow is National Record Store Day. Yes, they still call them record stores I guess. I’m looking into this phenomena and might even venture out tomorrow to see what it is all about. Are there really that many stores that carry vinyl? If so, I’m happy to hear it but I sort of thought that all the good stuff was swallowed whole by those that knew better and had the vinyl sickness.

Personally I gave my record collection to a friend so that he could store it for me. I trusted him because he was a fanatic and had all his albums alphabetized in lovely shelving that I believe he made himself. Whenever I was over I loved sitting in that room and just looking at them sitting quietly waiting to be played. Records are like books to me. I can’t ever get rid of them and I must say it was very hard to let someone look after mine. I would never do that with my books but since I had no speakers for a while (shame) it didn’t seem to matter. I sent my records packing like an unwanted child off to boarding school. It’s no wonder they were abused.

Deep sigh. My buddy cherishes his records and was indeed a loyal gatekeeper; but he could not keep a watchful eye on his wacko girlfriend. As the story goes, he trusted her with his treasures while he was away and in one of her drunken fits she decided to make that room over. My stomach starts to get tied into knots when I think about the level of animosity and irrational alcohol infused anger she must have had to take this mans most sacred of items and move them to the garage. She did not keep them alphabetized…and…she MIXED MY COLLECTION WITH HIS. Okay I said it. Wow.

My plan is to go retrieve them and comfort my friend during the process. Not that he needs comforting but he must feel some kind of ugliness (since she struck him a blow directly intended to crush his soul) regarding the debacle that was their relationship. Anyway, I don’t blame him and I’m not that worried about figuring out which albums are mine.  No, I didn’t label them…and I can’t remember if he labeled his. Yes, there will be some confusion because we both had 80’s rap “for promotional use only” singles and most likely have the same Jimi Hendrix, etc. I doubt he will want my Ambrosia (do I?) but he might try to keep my Clash or PIL…maybe not. I just want all my Jazz back. It should be an interesting time.

So do not under any circumstances let go of your records and expect to ever see them again. Someones beloved may become an evildoer later on and sacrifice your vinyl in the name of love. Oh that reminds me to get my Naked Eyes back…

(Please refrain from discussing “attachment” :))