Sort of a déjà vu moment:
Spent lots of lonesome, difficult late nights in the cold spring of 1997 trying to figure out printing problems while Yo La Tengo’s Fakebook played over and over again on a crummy old boombox. A weird distant time I feel utterly unconnected to now.
Still, I just realized here I am for the trillionth time trying to figure out printing problems with Fakebook playing on a somewhat upgraded boombox.
No moral or point to the story. It’s not even a story. Only a weird knot-in-time kind of thing, as happens a hundred times a week. Oh, except, the entire environment of where I’m figuring out printing problems couldn’t be more different or better. Like, really glad 1997 can’t ever happen again. So, there’s that. Plus it’s nice I never stopped liking that record, the way I have sometimes stopped liking other records from olden times, which I wish would stop happening, because I’m not completely ready to start liking Roger Whittaker just yet.
Okay, back to work.
“When the gig ain’t there, you still got to pay the rent.” Jimmy Scott (1925-2014)