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18 December 2015 @ 03:04 pm
for years we stood clearly as one thing  
dear pell mell, or shattered fragments of pell mell, or record labels holding the legal rights to the more free-range release of pell mell’s material, and/or steve fisk,

honestly, as my former workshop-mate’s car door slammed in 1997 and i stepped anxiously to the curb with the thought that turning around, reopening the front passenger door of his vehicle, leaning over the dash and ejecting my unlabelled copied cassette copy of rhyming guitars from this guy's cassette deck would only put me back into the awkward spot of yeah, okay! i hunted you down outside of workshop. and in spite of what just happened back there, i still think you’re pretty cute. but now we are at the hillcrest doors and i actually just barefaced lied to you about which dormitory i live in, which, aside from being a major tell on my feelings regarding our afternoon together, is not going to be very difficult lie for you to out me on and i’d like to be far far away when you do, plus it is cold! and getting dark! which means i need to either figure out the buses or start walking right now to compensate for the seventeen kinds of lost i am going to get on this, a part of the campus with which i have no familiarity. really, i figured that i could just as easily score a copy of the actual CD from one of iowa city’s fine music media retail establishments, in which i had already expended a large percentage of my temporal and financial resources for the term. i sure would like to have a viable copy of that CD.

but it was not to be, shattered fragments of pell mell. because i forgot. i mean, i could say i ran out of money. that is not only likely, but true! but a tried-and-true music junkie such as myself is only going to let abject poverty stay her hand from the latest anomalous records catalog for so long. i have the microscopic mandible chitter of water bugs(1) to revel in, fuckers. and the thing is, i think i’ve been sufficiently punished for forgetting to find a legitimate copy of rhyming guitars in the late nineties. i really do.

so, pell mell, shattered fragments of pell mell, record labels holding the legal rights to the more free-range release of pell mell’s material, and/or steve fisk, i would like to introduce you to the wonderful world of BANDCAMP: a magical venue through which you could get some of this very fine material some fresh exposure for very little in the way of set-up expenses and possibly some decent profit. unless you’re getting some kickback on the secondhand sellers asking upwards of fifty dollars for CDs only described to be in “good” condition. i mean, that weather report guy did it. bandcamp, i mean. you could do it, too. so that’s the case i’m making and i’ll leave you to decide, as i need to go cry in a very hot shower in the hopes of scouring clean the concept of partially-hatched wing-mounted egg sacks(2) from my poor screaming brain.

warm regards,
judith



(1) p.s. don’t verify your language for this one with google image search. keep in mind that google image search sometimes likes to post a few results on the regular web search page, either as a teaser to get you to explore their other services or an aspect of their pact with the forces of darkness, and there is a fair possibility that you will feel irresistibly drawn to engage in this injurious activity of wanting to explore, you know? or even click through to see what horrible, horrible thing is happening in this strange picture among the top few results. it's like those jars of pig's feet across the aisle from the lentils at caputos. except no, this is actually worse than that. much worse. don’t. just don’t. trust me. has anyone had, say, moderate success scraping images from one's visual memory with clay sculpting tools? i'm asking for a friend.
(2) DON’T.
 
 
music: bohren & der club of gore - conway twitty zieh mit mir