If you do not know motherfuck all else and you live around Dope City you know all you have to do is travel a little to find yourself out of the fucking rain and into a perfect day.
"We gotta get out of this place," Sonja suggested this morning as the clouds gathered force, took aim and attacked.
We headed west into one fuck of an extreme weather event. Talking water a foot deep. Global warming really giving it up our ass it was.
Soon however we were in Heavestown, sunglasses on, Beach Boys on the stereo. Visited the record store there. Run by a Westham fan, poor lad. Bought a Buddy Guy 10", audiophile copy of Hawkwind's "Hall of the Mountain Grill," some BBC recordings by the Pink Fairies, Bachman/Cummings "Jukebox" cd (every bit as good as I had heard it was) and ordered the Headcats' live album.
Walked along the up and down river's edge quite some ways after that. Boats struggled upstream against the freshet like rock 'n roll fights for its very life in the demonic Disco Age; cutting power to conserve fuel making their deep purple lazy way back to sea.
Lunch of clams, salmon and salad. Tequila and cider for me. Red wine for Sonja. Velvet Underground sun lighting it all up like the Korean Peninsula will one day brighten our Chinese television screens.
From there it was to the big mall near the ferry terminal. Set Sonja free to peruse the sales there while I checked out the new Sunrise record store. Little pricey perhaps but a better selection than the previous mall record store had ever carried. Staff was polite and well bathed by record store standards. Walked out with a re-release of Lou Reed's "Rock 'n' Roll Animal" and copy of Emmylou Harris' "The Travelling Kind."
With time to kill I had a look in the mall's big sportsman's store. Tell you what: being a record collector is one fuck of lot cheaper than fishing and hunting. Kept my wallet in my pocket however, leaving the store with only a tremendous tub of cheesies.
Took a spot on one of the many mall couches after that with the other men who had chosen not to follow their wives about. Struck up a conversation with a Flip who was sitting next to me.
"What did you buy?" I asked as I motioned towards the bag at his feet.
"New barbecue cover," he informed me. "Very cheap," he added proudly.
He had lived in Canada many years, had a union job, fucking proud of it too.
He asked about the contents of my bags. I opened my tub of cheesies and we ate them like they were caviar.
"How come you buy records? Like buy wooden hockey stick?" he asked.
Told him if he bought himself a decent record player and a few Anne Murray records he would understand there was magic in this fucked up world of ours and you cannot find it in your smart phone.
His wife returned before Sonja. "What you buy?" she asked my orange finger tipped new friend. She inspected the barbecue cover's price tag and laughed. "I could have bought at the dollar store!"
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