I spent the early part of this day purposefully not waiting around the house for the repair people to come, just left the doors unlocked and went record shopping at The Thing. My aunt Herta had called me earlier this morning to tell me I was in her dream last night and just to talk about my dad some. She said she was going to write a history of their growing up since I didn't and don't know it, and when done she is going to mail it to me. This led to lots of thinking about family patterns that seem to repeat themselves, substance abuse, loss of parent(s) at an early age, and man, life is so fucking scary.
Despite being totally overwhelmed by this place, The Thing - online somewhere it says they have 30,000 records - and they are in no order, packed in tight, crate after crate, all of them dusty, the aisles incredibly narrow and pieces of broken records littering the floor - depsite all this, I managed to walk away with some records.
Jim Croce - I Got a Name
Fleetwood Mac - Fleetwood Mac
Charlie Parker and Dizzy Gillespie - Echoes of an Era
Ella Fitzgerald - These are the Blues
Carole King - Tapestry
Whitney Houston - Whitney Houston
Frank Sinatra - Sampler From "The Voice: The Columbia Early Years, 1943-1952"
Dean Martin - Greatest Hits, Vol. 1
And the albums I was most excited about, Fleetwood Mac and Carole King, both have small scratches that I failed to notice when browsing that make the songs sound awful on my favorite songs on those two albums. So now, I am listening to Jim Croce, whom I like a lot, and whom I discoverd over Thanksgiving since the station we listened to that whole time, 95.3 played the titular track more than a few times.
Last night, I saw one of the regular johns to pay my phone bill, and you know, go record shopping, and afterward, I trembled on his bed for a couple minutes afterward, shaking, spent. I watched Alice last night and Mia Farrow does such a perfect job in that movie. I really enjoyed this one a lot despite, or maybe even because of, the schmaltzy ending.