I’ve been other lately. Not feeling myself, even when I’m digging in crates and dusty boxes. The season has turned toward Winter and I’m hoping it won’t be long to Spring, but I’m afraid the days already shortened of light will turn long and dark and cold. I’ve been stuck in the past, which is perfect for records but for all the wrong reasons. It’s not nostalgia I’m experiencing, but dread and heartbreak. Usually Floyd’s “The Final Cut” pulls me clear of the mental debris but even the morose Roger Waters and crew have failed me this trip. Noting which records get you through the weeds is an important past time and I think I should spend more time on the endeavor.
Been dreading even writing anything here. The days fall away pulled by gravity, and once they’re gone it just becomes another loss, another lost opportunity. The higher the pile of depleted days the more it takes to type the words and “catch” up. The true 22. So, let’s get back to the program. I’ve been listening to quite a few things I picked up on my last visit to Atlanta and Criminal Records. Some are older records and some are just out, but all help to put the air back in the lungs. (And all are real live records that I picked up at the record store with the exception of the Lemon Sun. That one’s a CD. That one I got from the drummer.)