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There's Always Better Stuff Here

I bought an album by Rickie Lee Jones at Goodwill today because I thought she looked cool on the cover. I had only had a cup of coffee on an empty stomach so I was wandering around feeling like an electric eel, thinking everything meant Something. In the picture she has these messy strips of brown hair grazing her cheek and a cigarette pinched between her lips, her head bowed in front of a sunset as if at the feet of a guru. You can see a bit of her blurry hand in the bottom right corner and you can tell it's coming up to brush the hair away from her eyes so she can better ruminate on the endless orange landscape. I was standing there, by the books and records, admiring it, when the friendly lady next to me holding a basket of knick-knacks and running her eyes back and forth down the bookshelves like a cat following a laser said, to no one in particular, "It's amazing. Once I found like, four books by my favorite science-fiction author here." I told her that I love it when people die because when someone dies there's always better stuff here. She didn't like that so I walked away and when I got to the checkout counter, I realized I still had it in my hand. I don't have a record player so I don't know what to do with it. I wish I could send it to you but it won't fit inside of an envelope. If you ever get bored of the nice weather, maybe you can come back for a visit and we can listen to it together. Bring a record player.

Story by:

Edgar Gomez

Edgarsucks.tumblr.com

9 May 2014