“...I feel it very well, but I don't know how to express it...I only have at my disposal poor words completely worn out from having served everyone and everything...”-Nathalie Sarraute
I'm going to have to read the Rather Ripped Records article from for to aft. "My" record store too! From when I would borrow my frosh roommates' Mustang (he had an 8-track player in it) and drive there on a wing and a prayer from Stanford for a shopping spree; to Russ becoming a big supporter of my music. (The Ophelias played an instore at RRR after it had moved to the Oakland location in 1988. see YouTube video of "Turn Into A Berry".) Saw the Jars play out front from the back of a flatbed pickup truck. Met Peter Hammilll there, and so may artists on vinyl due to the instore stereo and the clerk expertise! And bought a fabulous Gentle Giant bootleg, hahaha! I've still got my Membership ID card, and a pristine unused bumpersticker saying "I'd Rather Be Ripped (at Rather Ripped Records)".
I heard the poem when walking through redwood trees with a friend who thinks a lot about the inability to truly explain an incredible experience. There is that aspect of what we perceive that is ultimately a singular, personal sensation.
I appreciate your idea of "vague markers." That is exactly it!
I'm going to have to read the Rather Ripped Records article from for to aft. "My" record store too! From when I would borrow my frosh roommates' Mustang (he had an 8-track player in it) and drive there on a wing and a prayer from Stanford for a shopping spree; to Russ becoming a big supporter of my music. (The Ophelias played an instore at RRR after it had moved to the Oakland location in 1988. see YouTube video of "Turn Into A Berry".) Saw the Jars play out front from the back of a flatbed pickup truck. Met Peter Hammilll there, and so may artists on vinyl due to the instore stereo and the clerk expertise! And bought a fabulous Gentle Giant bootleg, hahaha! I've still got my Membership ID card, and a pristine unused bumpersticker saying "I'd Rather Be Ripped (at Rather Ripped Records)".
I heard the poem when walking through redwood trees with a friend who thinks a lot about the inability to truly explain an incredible experience. There is that aspect of what we perceive that is ultimately a singular, personal sensation.
I appreciate your idea of "vague markers." That is exactly it!