Oct. 19th, 2009

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Me: Small girl, where are your socks?
Small girl: I can't wear them, I need them for my potion!

Oh, of course...
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So, I'm sorting through my CD collection today, for the purposes of transferring it onto the computer and thus rescuing it from dusty, scratched-to-buggery oblivion. It is making me all nostalgic, and also raises some interesting questions:
Why on earth do I own a copy of the Romper Stomper soundrack?
Where has my beloved copy of Heather Nova's Oyster gone?
Who gave me all these pirated Concrete Bonde CDs, and why did they not think to label them?
Why do we own three copies of the Romeo and Juliet soundtrack?
Who did I lend the Cat Empire's self-titled first album to?

And most importantly, why do I always nd up with a teetering pile of CD cases with no discs in them, and a correspondingly large (but, and this is the key point, not matching) pile of discs with no cases?

It's amazing how music can carry with it such strong sensory memories, isn't it? I'm listening to the Doors, and I can almost taste the cheap bourbon and clove cigarettes...I bet if I played Concrete Blonde's Vampire Song I would smell rosemary and thriftshop clothes.

EDIT: I also appear to have lost, in record time, my Florence + the Machine CD :(


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