... than never to have loved at all? Yeah, well...
the art of losing isn't hard to master. And that art has led me to conclude that I'm never buying another CD so long as I live, unless I run into cool local artists like the folksy/gypsy jazzy
David Williams, the soulfully sarcastically folksy
Tommy Ventura or the trumpety jazzy
Ron Miles (all of whom I either earned A's from in college or who honored me with a classroom performance in college).
Sometime after I cleaned up my stuff from the desk I shared at the Office of Student Publications at
Metro, I realized some of my favorite CDs were missing-- A
John Lennon one.
Let it Be (Naked). Rubber Soul. The White Album, disc one, or two? One of the discs from the
Forrest Gump Soundtrack? My
Queen's greatest hits.
Great
Freddie Mercury! I'll never see those again.
They went the way of my copy of
Carole King's
Tapestry, which I remember my
Uncle Scottsent tome for my 18th birthday. I really would love that CD back from the abyss, as well.
In recent weeks, more beloved CDs have found their way into that great abyss--
Tommy Ventura's
Nine New Ways to Suck,
David Williams'
Where the Dark Road Starts,
Joni Mitchell's
Blue,
Johnny Cash's
Cash, my copy of
The Spoken Word Revolution... They were last seen in my
Jeep Liberty, Belle.
Even though there are a few bright moments, such as me finding my copy of
The Clash's Greatest Hits and
The Fiddler on the Roof soundtrack when I cleared off a cool bookcase to move from my parents' home in Parker to the apartment, it just can't replace John Lennon, Joni Mitchell and Carole King.
So I've vowed that if ever I must buy another CD, I will instead invest in an MP3 player. I can't lose that to the bowels of an SUV or a bookcase or another CD jewel case, can I? I mean... you don't slide an MP3 player into a CD player or a CD carrying case contraption and then lose it, do you?
It'll cost almost as much as an MP3 player to replace the favorite CDs I would like back.
Or maybe I ought to put all my music on audio tape.
I don't remember losing any tapes. They've just slowly deteriorated, like my parents' copy of
The White Album and the many tapes my Uncle Scott made for my mother back before I was born, which I promptly snagged from her when she hadn't listened to them for a decade or so and I had hair down to my tailbone and
Bill Clinton was President.
... Sweet Carole King, do I miss those CDs though...