Final Vinyl

 As I enter the record shop, I search for the fresh arrivals bin. 

Sometimes the owner...I assume...small record shops usually don’t have many employees...anyhow, sometimes they are friendly, often times they’re aloof. Look, I get it. You don’t know me, and I’ve seen people window shop for 30 minutes, leaving empty handed. 

I don’t window shop for records.

I will take a quick pass. Quickly surveying for familiar artists, coveted titles, interesting covers. Then I will settle in for a second more in depth dig. Every section checked over at least twice.

And please tell me you have a listening station. 

Once selections have been made, I approach the register, a sense of accomplishment and giddy enthusiasm overtaking me. These precious babies are mine. After an often pleasant exchange, I walk out the door.

I shop around because I want to spread the love. I have my favorites, and some of them know me, but variety is the spice of bankruptcy. 

What you don’t see:

I’m afraid I have an addiction. 

I’m afraid it’ll never be enough 

I’m afraid all I have is my music

But guess what? 

There’s a new record shop in town.