24 July 2016
A man ought to have hobbies. Hobbies that get you out into the world more often than cheering for a motherfucking parasite billionaire's hockey franchise.
I have drinking, politics, the horses, reading and record collecting. Still like to raise Hell now and again but not often enough to consider it a hobby. Only hobby I have dropped I can think of is marijuana farming. Happy I had that one in the days it was safe to have a hobby as lucrative and socially responsible as that.
Because of my hobbies people ask me to go out drinking, talk to me about politics, enquire about about horses, lend me books and give me records they have no further use of.
My friend Jimi's brother is moving out of his country estate and moving into Dope City to be closer to his medical specialists, the Stanley Park Lawn Bowling Club and the afterlife. Does not have room in his new apartment for his records so I got them. All of them from his teenage rebel days. Johnny Winters' "Austin Texas", dating from 1968, was the first one to hit my turntable. Notes on the back of it written by Lester fucking Bangs. It is all about the blues for me these days, motherfuckers.
All about the blues.
Gave me his turntable too. Packaged in its original box and styrofoam protection as turntables ought to be when being stored away or moved about. Unused for 30 years. CEC BD1000. Made in fucking Japan. Bought in 1966 in a little stereo shop, just a little ahead of its time, right here in Steepleton called "Apple Sound."
Thanks for the music, motherfuckers.