The other day someone donated a bunch of CDs. I took one look at them and squealed. Everyone at the library is kind of bored; bored or just really mello (how do you spell mello? Mellow?). From what I understand, they're mello(w) because of a combination their personalities, years of library service, their angst-driven personal lives, etc. So when I get excited, so does everyone else. It's my main role in the group. I get excited. Which brings excitement. The CDs were a beautiful collection of obscure 90's Indie Rock and Electronica. I'm coming around to Electronica. Steve - my co-worker, on whom I will do an entire expose at a later date - said he'd been waiting for this day for a few years now. I asked him, what day? He said that with the depth of music digitalization there was going to be groups of people with scores and scores of CDs that they had digitalized and thus no longer wanted. While there were only six CDs, that day was here. Today, Kathy, the lady who usually goes through the donations to see if they're worth keeping and on whose desk I had left the CD's with the hope that we wouldn't want to keep them, slipped me the pile when no one was looking. I asked how much I should pay for them and she just shushed me and told me to go away. I told her she was my new best friend.
These are my gems.
Talking Heads, Fear of Music
Talking Heads, Little Creatures
Air, the Original Motion Picture Soundtrack for The Virgin Suicides
Did I mention they're all in pristine condition? Apart from a few cracks in their cases, that is. What a good day.