i met some awesome guys working in a record shop.
well, not so much a record shop anymore as a place of indiscriminate life avoidance, masquerading as entertainment.
but they were hilarious and used to hide things from customers they didn’t like and help out those that they did.
they used to high five me when we’d done a great job, even though no one noticed.
and they used to let me play Animal Collective REAL loud in the stock room.
they were the last in a long line of really decent, really solid people i have met in record shops. up until this point i’ve damn near built my life on that lark.
always honest, always fun and always, always late (well, me).
the most fun i’ve ever had. the least fun i’ve ever had.
and so now and again i used to bake things and take them in in a little blue tupperware container.
and people used to go and eat them after customers had spoken to them like they were worthless.
and hopefully the hand-made baked goods assured them that they were far from it.
and i did it because i like eating the mixture, a bit.
and because i like to make an effort where i can.
and because, ultimately, it makes me feel kinda jolly.
