“ok. well. that’s all. just, y’know… jobs… fuck ’em.”
—loren jan wilson
went to dr. wax today after lunch, looking for some stuff that they did not, it turns out, actually have.
all day yesterday i spent moping about how come i can’t find a place online to sell me a single replacement LP jacket (or, more accurately, a quantity less than ten) or single relacement LP inner sleeves (again more accurately, fewer than one hundred). i finally decided that the next time i was in a used record store, i’d ask them if they would sell me a couple. so what did i do today when i was in a used record store? i freaking forgot. of course. because i’m a dipshit. argh.okay, there are some things i kind of miss sometimes about living downstate.
i think that any jury in the state would let me off scot-free if i were to break into my next-door neighbor’s apartment and steal their bloody stereo speakers. some of us are trying to listen to our own music, please.
if you cannot use audio equipment responsibly, then you ought not to be allowed to have it at all. argh.
