Oddly the local used music store is more interested in lps right now. I sold 'em maybe a dozen records and 4 or 5 CDs for $60, including The Big Chill soundtrack, which used to be a dime a dozen, in cut-out bins everywhere. Dude was like it's double nostalgia--- kids nostalgic for the record their nostalgic parents had.
Played some bones yesterday evening. I liked it. Saw peteralway. Alway's at the library. Discovered Fruffles (which Whitney Falloon argues should be called "Frownies") amidst a lot of other stuff, like the weirdly sweet agony of love. It's all kind of soft-rattling around in me today.
I feel pretty good. It's not gonna be that hot tomorrow (high 80°F). The world, and our country, is a violent, scary place, and we a violent and scary people. Yet I am going to eat lunch, and put a good chunk of items into publication, and take my doggie outside for a spell, and that's all the further-ahead thinking from this moment I want or need right now. One beet red Keen Newport 2 in front of the other, to the noodles in the microwave and the UV-radiated water dispensary, then back to this chair and some stapled-together sheets of paper and the magic PUBL button. That's now. That's next.