The unfortunate aging of Doc Martens. The laces are broken and the treads are wore down. I need to retire mine and get some new ones. Until then, my feet are in my bright blue shoes and all they want to do is groove. Trouble is that I don’t always feel like groovin’. I call to them,
“Feet, I don’t want to groove.”
There is no answer. Because blue shoes are like drugs for your feet. And my feet are dancing in a stupor. Meanwhile, I miss my boots.
So I go to the record store,
There’s a bin full of cassingles.
Songs that you won’t hear no more,
‘cept in lousy TV jingles.
I didn’t actually go to the record store. I haven’t been there in weeks. I just wanted to use the term “cassingle”. I have a friend that used the term the other day. I had never heard it. I like it. I don’t even own a tape player anymore. I do have some tapes though, but none of them are cassingles.
strange crew – def. A group of people who based on all appearances don’t belong together, yet for some reason they are together and they relate in some mysterious way.
I have never been a mystery fan. I like the mystery of strange crew though. You see them randomly. Sometimes some people are ugly and some are beautiful and some are beautiful in their ugliness. And they are all together. There are usually no couples and the people are different ages. They are all dressed different. Some are gothic. Some are sporty. Some are casual. On the surface they make no sense. But there is a reason they are together.
I thought that I met a strange crew a long time ago. It turns out that I was wrong. They are not strange at all.
I’m glad that it is almost Friday.