There Was A Time When CDs Were A Currency
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A preoccupation of mine is thinking about the time when I couldn’t afford my portion of the bills in the flat, and so I was told that I’d need to stump up one way or another. A guy told me that maybe I could sell some of my CDs. And I looked at him like he had made a deal with me many moons ago to take my first born and today was collection day.
He’d drawn up a charter and used the word ‘vestiges’ to show that he really fucking meant it, eh. The power was going to be disconnected, the internet was still pretty new to us back then, but it was already on a slower crawl than usual. And they were going to silence that too if I didn’t pay my part of the bill.
The way I processed all this was simple: It was time for me to be a hero! I went to my room and looked through my CDs — hundreds of them — I couldn’t murder any of these darlings! Painstakingly, I chosen a dozen. And then instantly felt disgusted. I went down to the lounge, down the hall, for a break; processing what I’d done. I lit a smoke and poured a drink — we could have hosted our own Amateur Dramatic Society, I tell ya.
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