"You don’t see me,
The way I do."
Dear Michael.
Enough with the Disney picture discs and Michael Jackson storybook albums!! I really don’t expect to see this sort of twaddle when I irregularly visit your site as a distraction from doing my timesheets.
I demand you get back to holding aloft obscure indie records that I have no wish to hear. Ideally, anything limited to under 1,000 copies, with a hand-made sleeve. And if it has a delightfully shoddy, shot-in-a-back-garden-with-zero-budget video, that would be a bonus.
And I then expect you to accompany that with a tale of acute embarrassment or woeful misadventure from 25 years ago. Ideally, with some goth stuff thrown in. Why don’t you tell us about that girl you knew who collected obituaries from the local papers. The one you took on a date to see ‘Teen Wolf’. How’d that work out?
I only say these things for your own good.
La la love you,
Cherished reader, no 34.
