Of vinyl and ill-gotten crates. [ 2004-01-13, 8:09 p.m. ]

I just packed up my record collection - 12 boxes worth of vinyl stretching back to my parents' jazz and Herb Alpert records, through mystery bro.'s collection of acid and sixties pop, my sister's funk collection, and my own frightening mix of bubblegum, singer-songwriters, country, punk, K-tel, and New Wave. (Did I really need to buy two Flock of Seagulls albums?)

~~~

All of this vinyl had been stored in milk crates stolen from behind the Super Jalisco on Chicago Avenue by Tim and me 15 years ago. We would strike under cover of darkness, dodging rats and the rancid meat smell emanating from the dumpsters, stealing as many crates as we could carry and then walking nonchalantly down Winchester Avenue with them to our little hovel. At that time the crates served as our dresser, bookshelves, kitchen storage and when company came a-calling, chairs. Good times.

~~~

Today I bought proper storage boxes for the vinyl but I am keeping the crates as well. Proving once again that I can get sentimentally attached to anything.

~~~

thisaway - thataway

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