record fair

wow. i really dislike music geeks. i know that i am one and maybe this is an exercise in self-loathing but this record fair always reminds me of two things: 1. there is life beyond wax and aluminum 2. to shower regularly. is it so goddamn hard to put on a pair of jeans people? sweatpants or bootcuts--mullets or mods--either so damn hip their scoffing at how ten seconds ago they were or so damn scruffy that they didn't realize 1975 was thirty years ago. and here i am, with jay in tow. where do we fit into this rabble? i hope we don't, but we will be lumped into this morass of subculture.

there were two younger girls there, very cute and bubbly--poor fools. i am sure they now smell like burnt cheese and day old budwiser. . . ten minutes in the joint and i remember why i stopped working in a record store. these are my people? no wonder i'm a f%*k-up and reclusive.

what's worse is there is this sense of aristocracy that comes from these people--goddamn know-it alls who have nothing better to do than to tell you why your purchase of joe cocker's classics 4 pales in comparisson to the a&m anthology, like i am some bumpkin. or worse, there was this guy who sold jay a misfits boxset without a pin. he tried to tell us that "the pin only came with the first pressing--" why not be honest with us? why did he have to flat out lie? so i had to tell him and the entire row of his customers that he "was full of horseshit." these people bite.

i am going to the airport to pick up mischelle in a couple of hours. . . until then naptime!

am soundtrack: joe cocker classic vol.4; redd kross born innocent; comas conductor; misfits boxset; black flag the first four years; pulp different class