seen from Lithuania
seen from Argentina
seen from United States
seen from Philippines
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seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from Netherlands
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Record Collector Problems: "Did I not have a copy of The Umbrellas of Cherbourg soundtrack on vinyl? I know I have Jack Jones Sings Michel Legrand... did I lend it to Em to digitize like a decade ago and forgot it when I moved?
...And how long have I had a copy of Who Made Who?"
me: *owns hundreds of records*
also me: *blasts the same two songs at the loudest volume over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and*
WEEK FIVE - A Broken Promise
Thursday was nice. The Roommate and I went to Disneyland. And the time that wasn’t spent discussing Crybaby was great. Just like old times. Whenever she’d mention Crybaby, I’d just sort of grunt and shrug. I’m trying to use basic conditioning to let her know that I don’t want to talk about him. Maybe through extension she’ll realize that I don’t want to talk to him either. Or look at him. Or breathe the same air as him. She seems blissfully ignorant of all of the above. Regardless of the fact that I’ve suddenly managed to find ways to stay late at work EVERY SINGLE NIGHT. (M/W/F is “jogging” with the girls from work. Tuesday is an html class taught by a girl at work. Two Thursdays a month is happy hour at work, one Thursday is figure drawing at work, the other one I just sort of have to mysteriously work late?) And when I am home, I just sit in my bedroom and try not to talk to anybody except the internet and the cats.
The Roommate said that Saturday we could hang out, because Crybaby would be packing. We were going to go to the Huntington Gardens, a great place to do some walking and talking and look at pretty art and pretty plants. But, lo and behold, Crybaby needed help packing. “I’ll try to come back early,” she said as she was leaving the house immediately after dinner on Friday. “We can still go to the Huntington.”
Uh huh.
I texted her at 11 Saturday morning, and she said she was still packing. So I took myself to the Huntington. And I went to the Desert Garden Conservatory, a place we’ve always said we needed to get round to going. And I went without her, and I saw living stones and it was awesome. I’m not even embarrassed by my pettiness.
It’s currently 6:30 on Sunday, and I haven’t seen The Roommate in about 48 hours, but I’m still somehow sort of anxious and grumpy, because I know that when she comes home, Crybaby will be with her, and I’m stuck with him.
I currently have 13 tabs open in Chrome with possible places to move if it comes to that. I’m really not looking forward to packing my 650 records....
So I find Pink Floyd's 'Wish You Were Here' (my FAVOURITE Pink Floyd album! I have the poster~), AC/DC's 'Back in Black', and a Michael Jackson picture album... and i walk out with a $3 copy of Ah-Ha's 'Hunting High and Low'.
I need it to be payday. Like, right now.
- Going to sit down sometime soon and try and calculate just how much money I have spent on records. Kinda frightened -
How did I miss an original first pressing of Jackie Wilson's first LP He's So Fine! for 18 bucks?
Bummin'
I have this real problem with double LP's.
I'll happily listen to the first two sides of the first record but for whatever reason I have trouble mustering the motivation to get up and put the second record on and end up just putting music on my laptop again. Only to later question why the hell I'm not listening to vinyl and get up and put a completely different album on as starting on disc 2 of a record seems perverse.
I need to build a robot that will do these tasks for me.
