Un-buying

Slowly but surely the climate is becoming more humane and less jungle-like. Either that or the heat has burned all the feeling out of my skin.

The theme du jour is "returning things". I feel like scum, but it has to be done. First I bought the new DVD documentary about Bob Moog and the history of the synthesizer (you can easily google for it), but it lacks that special elusive quality known as "non-defective". So that has to be sent back for a replacement. Then, I took the metal pipes and flanges back to the hardware store. The girl behind the counter acted really annoyed, but I think she was too young to be worried about her employer's profits (hell, I don't worry about my employer's profits) and was probably more annoyed at the process involved. And thirdly, I took this stupid alarm clock back to Radio Shack, otherwise known as "the land of overzealous salesboys". I dreaded that, but I didn't need the stupid clock, and the cash was better spent on a tankful of gasoline.

It's really against my nature to return things, though. It feels like going back on a deal, as if purchasing something equates to a vow of finality, and if you don't like what you bought you should chalk it up as a learning experience. It's like cheating or something. You could be a real asshole and make a lifestyle of "free renting" things in this manner, jumping from one store to the next and using their stuff while never paying a dime.

The studio is still amorphous. It is a room with things in odd piles, and a spot carved out to sleep in. But in small bits, related objects are finding their way to one another. And the rest of what's still in my car is low-priority stuff, so my only rule with that is to bring one little thing in every time I come back here. Today, for example, it was a box of cassettes.

In other news, I keep getting e-mail from people about some old rock band getting back together.