had another record dream last night. both recent ones in nyc... the first one was at an "other music" type place, only there were no cds, just vinyl, and not a single record was legit. they all had photocopied covers, everything in the joint was b&w. but crazy, beautiful stuff like i had never seen. 1977 punk from my hometown that kicked my ass but never was before. weird shit. the necronomicons of vinyl.
but last night was different... it was all at goat's place in nyc on broadway. something suspiciously like billmo's glass-y-eyed employers. only a small apt, every damn thing painted black like it was The Rat or some shithole club, and with shitloads of music equipment and records, and an unfrightening dark smell of meth and death. the weird thing was records that came in stacks, many of them that were a cross between 7" @ 45 and business-card cd-roms. many transparent, some metallic, some dusty as fuck. hairball had a lot to say about his recent purchases while hood showed me the house stacks and goat played host, but didn't notice so much what was going on. a-and despite all the rekkids looking like shit, they all sounded great. like an angel pissing in a shaft of sunlight.
time your soul to seek, hilary droolsen. the universe has a way of continuing when mortal souls stop. dark matter outweighs us.
