Smoke in one hand, looking for a drink

Yesterday afternoon brought yet another (unsuccessful) outing to shop for a new oven.

Who knew that being an adult would be so annoying?

To console myself, I acquired Under the Big Black Sun. I own the LP, which has long been fatally warped. I couldn’t bear to part with my vinyl, though – the cover art is like an anthem to my adolescence. But it’s unplayable. When I found a used, remastered cd for $3.95 I didn’t need to debate pros and cons, it was a simple Yes.

This is my favorite X album. It’s about loss, and specifically, death. Its truths are saturated, in the same manner I might characterize the Laphroiag in my liquor cabinet as smokey. When Exene cries:

The man is gone,
Mary’s dead.
Good morning midnight.

the depth of her grief is so well encapsulated that I’m tempted to send a sympathy card.

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