For the record, you're aware that these TWYS post are HIGHLY exaggerated, right? Just checking. For those not in the know, around here, we would never put personal stories like this out without permission of all parties involved. Duh!
Now, the a character & I were once in a record store, aka a 'wreka stow', so she could do some shopping. I'm the type who'll wander around wreka stow for no reason at all (shouts to Kam), so I was
more than willing to go with her. We walked around; her on a mission to
find whatever she went in there for & me immersing myself dans la
musique. By now you're probably aware of my music addition, so I shant bother you with the all of the details, but know that on this day it was in full effect. Is there a better way to find new music, or rediscover old music, than walking the aisles of a wreka stow? Sure surfing the net is easy, but actually holding a CD is a feeling that I don't think will ever be replaced. It's that feeling you had when you were little looking at one, wondering how the music came out. It's the way light reflects of the bottom of it. It's picking up the case & reading the track-list to find the one song you bought the CD for in the first place. Oh music, how I love thee.
Back to the topic at hand though. I ended up in the jazz aisle, looking for something I'd recognize. I'm far from a jazz aficionado, but thanks to a few friends I can just about hold my own. I manged to find Miles Davis' "Birth of the Cool" CD, hoping to see "Darn That Dream" on it as that is one of my favourites. During my scan of the track-list, homegirl pops out of nowhere & hits me with the Spanish Inquisition. "What's that", she asked. I explain its relevance & her reply was just about the most awkward one I could've expected. I wasn't hoping for an "Oh, that's so deep & interesting" response. Shoot, I'd have been cool with an "Uh-huh..." but this chick didn't even meet me halfway. She looked me dead in the eye with the most screwface expression I'd ever seen to that point in my life & exclaimed "You like JAZZ?!?!"
Now I can deal with a screwface, as I do hail from the Screwface Capital of the world, but the way she asked that question was on another level of odd. It was like I admitted I had an STD, or as if jazz bullied her as a child & I just confessed that jazz was a relative of mine. I assume that was what martians would feel like upon admitting their heritage. They say relationships are about compromise, but it's hard to compromise with crazy. I never even found out why she reacted in such fashion. Her vibe went from chilled out to "That's
going to be a habit you're going to need to quit" in 2 seconds, & you know me,
I'm far from a quitter. Although strangely enough, I indeed did quit her eventually. Again though, this story wasn't even close to the tipping point of that "situation" but it always makes me laugh, in a jazzy sort of way.
Now, the a character & I were once in a record store, aka a 'wreka stow', so she could do some shopping. I'm the type who'll wander around wreka stow for no reason at all (shouts to Kam), so I was
more than willing to go with her. We walked around; her on a mission to
find whatever she went in there for & me immersing myself dans la
musique. By now you're probably aware of my music addition, so I shant bother you with the all of the details, but know that on this day it was in full effect. Is there a better way to find new music, or rediscover old music, than walking the aisles of a wreka stow? Sure surfing the net is easy, but actually holding a CD is a feeling that I don't think will ever be replaced. It's that feeling you had when you were little looking at one, wondering how the music came out. It's the way light reflects of the bottom of it. It's picking up the case & reading the track-list to find the one song you bought the CD for in the first place. Oh music, how I love thee.
Back to the topic at hand though. I ended up in the jazz aisle, looking for something I'd recognize. I'm far from a jazz aficionado, but thanks to a few friends I can just about hold my own. I manged to find Miles Davis' "Birth of the Cool" CD, hoping to see "Darn That Dream" on it as that is one of my favourites. During my scan of the track-list, homegirl pops out of nowhere & hits me with the Spanish Inquisition. "What's that", she asked. I explain its relevance & her reply was just about the most awkward one I could've expected. I wasn't hoping for an "Oh, that's so deep & interesting" response. Shoot, I'd have been cool with an "Uh-huh..." but this chick didn't even meet me halfway. She looked me dead in the eye with the most screwface expression I'd ever seen to that point in my life & exclaimed "You like JAZZ?!?!"
Now I can deal with a screwface, as I do hail from the Screwface Capital of the world, but the way she asked that question was on another level of odd. It was like I admitted I had an STD, or as if jazz bullied her as a child & I just confessed that jazz was a relative of mine. I assume that was what martians would feel like upon admitting their heritage. They say relationships are about compromise, but it's hard to compromise with crazy. I never even found out why she reacted in such fashion. Her vibe went from chilled out to "That's
going to be a habit you're going to need to quit" in 2 seconds, & you know me,
I'm far from a quitter. Although strangely enough, I indeed did quit her eventually. Again though, this story wasn't even close to the tipping point of that "situation" but it always makes me laugh, in a jazzy sort of way.
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