Cologne, popcorn and alcohol
◊ Judging by the state of my wallet and the crowded conditions in my messenger bag, I am forced to conclude that my CDs, lured into an amorous mood by darkness and close proximity, have been breeding like mad and lining their nests with shredded $20 bills.
I could be wrong; this sudden proliferation of music and my missing dollars could be something to do with my own personal Bermuda Triangle comprising the area between the intersections of Bascom Avenue and Hamilton Avenue, Bascom and West San Carlos, and a thrift store along San Carlos.
This area contains three major records stores and two of the thrift-store greats: Crossroads and Savers.
I do seem to own more skirts than I remember having a month ago.
That's OK. I'm buzzed after another newspaper-staff-over-the-drinking-age session at Paul and Eddie's, and I have the Sahara Hot Nights to console myself with.
And the Supersuckers.
And the Talking Heads and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and Turbonegro and Placebo and a copy of High Fidelity.
I take it in stride. It's not exactly a surprise: I have a few drinks and suddenly I have more new friends than I know how to deal with.
Now I just have to negotiate the newsroom and the Mac OS 10 interface.
Oh, Christ, please help me. I promise I'll give you good spin on my article on The Passion.