So...it's a very odd feeling that I've been having over the past couple of days. A sense of overwhelming dizziness. It could be the high pollen count...I've always had a fear of that. It could also be due to getting past the midway point from finishing draft 1 of novel. I'm in the undertow...no longer having any creative outlet and desperately hoping I can breathe some life into draft 2 if I make it to the other side.
But no, what this has to do with is the final shedding of an aspect of my adult life that has been with me, doggedly, since College. The comfort of being able to still buy a record. It's gone. Let loose. Drifting up into the clouds high above me with me slowly waving from the middle of a deep, open sea. I'm looking around for solace but I only see bigger waves. "Bollocks" I think as I slowly submerge.
There was a time long ago when I would dive into a dusty and inevitably musty emporium, make a bee line to the N section and flick wildly until I somehow hit upon that rare copy of 'Run2' by New Order. Usually there would be several others flicking at the same time, coming at it from different directions. Sometimes, a helpful mate would cry out from the D section that they'd found the yellow sleeve copy of Depeche Mode's Enjoy the Silence for me and I'd shout back at them to hold it whilst I frantically continued with my fevered pursuance. Happy times. We'd all rifle through Bargain Bins and march out proudly clutching Popinjays & Frank and Walters. Before being beaten severely about the head for not paying.
Now I go to step into that same record shop but it's no longer musty - it smells of technology and nothing. A pleasant young man in an awkward shirt blocks my path gently. "What do you want?' he questions smoothly, his silky tones positively squeaking insistence. "Well I'm here to buy the Howling album" I stammer blindly.
He leans in gently and whispers in my ear. I feel no warmth from his breath. "What if I told you that you could have every record in here?" he teases. He backs away and grins, then winks. I smile at him awkwardly, then wink also. He raises a thumb and beams. I shrug my shoulders and raise two thumbs. He frowns briefly.
I shake my head. "I couldn't afford all that" I mutter. "Well...maybe half but my wife would kill me".
"You and your wife could share them all" he laughs "All! For just £14.99"
I rub my eyes. The lad disappears briefly and in his place is a wizened crone. She coughs and I rub my eyes again. The eerie clone returns.
"All of them?"
"All of them". He licks his lips. "Well, all except Prince and The Beatles. But who gives two hoots about them?"
"Not me motherfucker!" I exclaim, a little too Samuel L for my liking.
"Albums that you've only ever dreamed of" he coos "as long as they actually exist".
"I'll take them!" I cry and the man child nods his head.
"Tis done" he intones solemnly before evaporating into a dragon made of mist and dispersing.
I stand there, quivering slightly. I look behind me and when I look back the shop is no longer there. Where the hell has that gone, I think to myself.
It's all still there, goes a new voice inside my head. Where? I ask it. It's inside here with us. Ask it. Go on. Ask it for anything. Any album you want and you shall hear it.
I am amazed and I feel incredibly powerful. I take a deep breath and try to visualise a great album I've always wanted to hear. I bite my lip and concentrate very hard. Veins begin to appear on my forehead and I start to perspire visibly. Images form and disintegrate. Words appear jumbled. I try so very, very hard.
But all that comes to mind is that new one by Jamie kiss kiss.
And as asinine sounds begin to fill my senses I can just make out a deep, dark cackling coming from just where my soul used to be.