right down the line
once upon a time in los angeles, i indulged in the hobby of record collecting, accumulating eventually thousands of records (mainly from here and from thrift stores). the main wall of my studio apartment was hidden by a bookshelf of records, paperback novels, and random knickknacks. on the weekends, i’d open up the windows, crank up the old turntable, and let the sounds of steely dan, linda ronstadt, neil young, the pretenders, and king crimson (and so much more) echo across the courtyard.
one record in particular hangs as the hallmark of my time by the sea, in that tiny koreatown apartment five years ago. what a surprise to find out gerry rafferty died two weeks ago.