Boys don't cry

I woke up this morning with a lot of sadness for the records/tapes/cds I have lost over the years. When I was in my late teens I had amassed tapes upon tapes of music. I literally had all of old skool hiphop and a ridiculous amount of punk and goth tunes. Sadly tapes were meant to fade and fade they did. I was always comforted by the fact what I had on tape was complimented by what I had on CD and Vinyl. Sadly this comfort would erode.

Blame it on my greedless nature or my "girlfriends"(the mean, socially inept, cruel, emotionally part-time ones, NOT CHLOE!), CDs and records would start to disappear as quickly as they were gathered, vampired away by part time fans or lovers of cover art.

So here I am...lamenting the loss of my Cure albums, fawning for the scratch of vinyl as Joy Division rings though the house, remembering that Scarface was a gangsta of love, thinking about old, old pretty Ministry (Forever), or how the Black Sheep never were the flavor of the month. Ahhhhhh, cry I might.