I have always loved different tracks of music, rarely whole albums [What's Going On and Caravanserai apart]. This used to lead to cassettes made with loving care given to and received from friends. Treasured tracks spliced with friendship. So the mp3 player has been a good thing. Suddenly I could stick all my tracks in a little box and mix and plays as wished. Which is fine. Until you loose the little box.
I looked everywhere for it. At least 6 times. I started hallucinating where I had left it, imagining it everywhere. Finally I decided I must have left it outside and someone [paperboy?] must have taken it. Bad thoughts. It did not feel good.
Day 6 of the loss Danielle goes to put her cycle helmet on and gets an ipod on her head for her pains. There all along, in full view in the garage. Amazing it had turned up. Ludicrous I had not seen it.
All of this means I can now sit outside the Tate Modern in between productive meetings in the sun listening to Bobby Womack.
No comments:
Post a Comment