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{ theatrical muse - - thirteen
Feb. 26th, 2009 12:55 amThirteen
I bought my first record when I was thirteen years old. I don't remember a lot about my years as a dumb kid but for some reason memories like that have always stuck out for me. Memory's a funny thing. You'll find out when you get to be my age.
I had been saving pocket change for the last few months- kept it in a little bag in my lunchbox. I remember guarding that thing with my life...no Hell nor bully could pry that thing from my hands regardless of how sore the beating was. Finally I had enough money. Ended up counting the money at least six times to make sure that I wasn't going to be disappointed. Only one thing left to do and that was to go to the store. I wasn't about to ask my father to take me. It seemed fitting to ask my mother anyway- the record player we had in the house was her's.
I wasn't prepared for what I saw that weekday afternoon after school. I saw...hell, what didn't I see? The record store seemed to be built on the records to the very foundation. There were records in bins, records in rows, stacked records, even records on the wall. My mother touched me on the shoulder and told me to close my mouth (it wasn't proper) and take a look. Suddenly I got really frightened. I couldn't remember what songs I even liked or what sounded good on the radio. The first place I stumbled was the "Popular" music section. There was Elvis Presley, Ray Charles, the Isley Brothers, even a newer group called The Beach Boys. They all watched me walk right past. I recall shivering a little, still holding onto that damn foolish fear. Like records could tell you had snubbed them.
The other releases were beyond in a wide series of rows. I pulled out the brightly colored covers with famous faces looking for something I could listen to over and over. There happened to be a red album with a beautiful woman on the front. She had thin eyebrows and beautiful dark eyes that stood out against her makeup. Without realizing it I had found exactly what I was looking for. Her name was Patsy Cline and she had a little song called "She's Got You". My mother sang along to it whenever it came onto the radio and seeing her dance and sing like that seemed so strange back then but it made everyone happy. This was a song I could live with. Without realizing it I had found exactly what I was looking for.
I don't have that album anymore. Moving around so much you tend to notice things disappear along the way. Doesn't mean the song isn't gonna be found somewhere else or that all the memories associated it are sad. I had a good time with that album and hope it's in good hands. All I need is that one experience. That one day was good enough for me. That one day was good enough for me. That memory is worth more than that song ever was.
516
I bought my first record when I was thirteen years old. I don't remember a lot about my years as a dumb kid but for some reason memories like that have always stuck out for me. Memory's a funny thing. You'll find out when you get to be my age.
I had been saving pocket change for the last few months- kept it in a little bag in my lunchbox. I remember guarding that thing with my life...no Hell nor bully could pry that thing from my hands regardless of how sore the beating was. Finally I had enough money. Ended up counting the money at least six times to make sure that I wasn't going to be disappointed. Only one thing left to do and that was to go to the store. I wasn't about to ask my father to take me. It seemed fitting to ask my mother anyway- the record player we had in the house was her's.
I wasn't prepared for what I saw that weekday afternoon after school. I saw...hell, what didn't I see? The record store seemed to be built on the records to the very foundation. There were records in bins, records in rows, stacked records, even records on the wall. My mother touched me on the shoulder and told me to close my mouth (it wasn't proper) and take a look. Suddenly I got really frightened. I couldn't remember what songs I even liked or what sounded good on the radio. The first place I stumbled was the "Popular" music section. There was Elvis Presley, Ray Charles, the Isley Brothers, even a newer group called The Beach Boys. They all watched me walk right past. I recall shivering a little, still holding onto that damn foolish fear. Like records could tell you had snubbed them.
The other releases were beyond in a wide series of rows. I pulled out the brightly colored covers with famous faces looking for something I could listen to over and over. There happened to be a red album with a beautiful woman on the front. She had thin eyebrows and beautiful dark eyes that stood out against her makeup. Without realizing it I had found exactly what I was looking for. Her name was Patsy Cline and she had a little song called "She's Got You". My mother sang along to it whenever it came onto the radio and seeing her dance and sing like that seemed so strange back then but it made everyone happy. This was a song I could live with. Without realizing it I had found exactly what I was looking for.
I don't have that album anymore. Moving around so much you tend to notice things disappear along the way. Doesn't mean the song isn't gonna be found somewhere else or that all the memories associated it are sad. I had a good time with that album and hope it's in good hands. All I need is that one experience. That one day was good enough for me. That one day was good enough for me. That memory is worth more than that song ever was.
516
