The Record Store, Al, and Homage to Mary

Well, kids... here's the latest. And you know what? As I write this, I'm going to also put in parentheses what song I'm listening to on my iPod... just so you can live vicariously through me and enhance your reading experience... or something like that.

(Photograph by Nickleback)

Yesterday, I exited the corner apartment (or the upstairs apartment, or whatever the hell you want to call it) to head over to the liquor store down the street by way of the record store down the street. It was a beautiful day on Park Avenue. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and beautiful women were jogging by my domicile about once every 6.784 seconds... not that I timed it or anything, and not like I sat on my porch for about three hours watching this beautiful scenery or anything like that. (Tipsy by J-Kwon) As I was walking out, the guy that lives below me was just coming in. We chatted for a minute or so, which was pretty much me asking him if my music was ever too loud and him telling me no. Regardless, as he walked in, and I began to walk away, he yelled over to me, "hey, have you seen Mary today?" Mary is the woman that lives in the other apartment in the house. "No... haven't seen her in a couple weeks." She's older and doesn't get around very well, so she pretty much never came out... this was not unusual. Every now and then she'd ask me to go up to Wilson Farms and get her cigarettes, but her friend that took her shopping usually took care of that. She's kind of the textbook "little old lady that lives downstairs." Really nice. "Oh... her friend called and said that she hadn't heard from her all day. Just wondering."

Anyway, I thought nothing of it, and headed over to the record store to look for the new Buckcherry CD. I got into them about a week ago and I'm f'ing hooked. Yes, I know that I can get it all off of Limewire, but there's something satisfying about walking around a record store. There's something that makes you feel good about it... especially a used record store. I'm not talking like FYE or Media Play... I'm talking like Record Archive or The World Famous House of Guitars here in Rochester. Look around... you'll find one. Go in and walk around... it'll make you feel good. Why? I don't know. It just does. Ever just lie down and look at the ceiling and think, if even for a minute, that everything's OK... that at that particular point in time, everything is taken care of and everything is where it's supposed to be? That feeling when all your bills, mortgage, rent, cell phone bill, porn DVD club membership, beer of the month club, and Hustler membership are all paid and there's still some money left over for strippers... that's the feeling. But I digress.

(Long Way Down by The Goo Goo Dolls)

Well, I didn't wind up actually buying music at the record store that I so adore. I wandered back to the corner apartment (again, or whatever you want to call it), hopped in the car, and headed out shopping. (Without You by MxPx) I need to get some new clothes for the upcoming Vegas trip. Two weeks from today, baby... oh yeah. I hit a couple stores, and the only thing that I wound up buying were a couple packages of floating candles, and about 9 bottles of wine from a different liquor store than the aforementioned one on my beloved Park Avenue. Yes, I'm a decor whore. No, I'm not gay. Yes, I am drinking a martini right now. (Should I Stay or Should I Go by The Clash) Again, no, I'm not gay.

I headed up to the corner apartment (whatever) because in about half an hour my beloved Yankees were playing my much hated Boston Red Sox. Did I mention that I hate them? If not, I do. Well, just as I got the last bottle into the wine rack (Gasolina by Daddy Yankee), I saw a bunch of flashing lights reflecting off my walls. I went to the window to see if one of those asshole kids with a $5,000 stereo system finally got pulled over for violation of some noise ordinance, when I noticed a couple of fire trucks, ambulances, and police cars parked right outside of... you guessed it... the corner apartment (shut up). Immediately I thought that there must be a problem after the earlier conversation with the guy from downstairs. Needless to say, I headed downstairs to see what was going on.

When I got to the bottom of the stairs, there was Doug (the guy from downstairs) talking to my landlord, and about a zillion firemen going in and out of my entranceway. (My United States of Whatever by Liam Lynch) I assumed the worst. I figured she fell and broke a hip or something horrible like that. I was at the doorway and said to Doug, "is she ok?" He said, "no, she's dead." The look on his face was something I can't quite describe. It was kind of a surprised and can-you-fucking-believe-this kind of look. (Intergalactic by The Beastie Boys) That kind of look that you see on somebody's face after they double down on three consecutive hands of blackjack and the dealer is sitting on 15 and pulls a 6. That kind of "are you fucking kidding me" look. My response to his statement was pretty much in that vein... "she's fuckin' dead?!?!?!?" I know, I know... that's probably not the most appropriate thing to say, given the fact that I wasn't sure who was around, and given that it's not really terribly respectful of the recently deceased, and given that I had no idea what had happened aside from the fact that there was a dead person in my house, but forgive me... it was a gut reaction.

(I Write Sins Not Tragedies by Panic! At The Disco)

So now, here I am. It's the third inning of Yankees/Red Sox. I have an open beer in my hand. There's somewhere between 4 and 187 cops on my porch. There's 2 fire trucks. There's 2 ambulances. There's my landlord, and there's me... shocked.

Now, before I go on, let me say this; I am not trying to under-state this person's death at all. I'm simply saying that it's going to affect me. (Coast of Carolina by Jimmy Buffett) I'm probably one of the people that this event is going to have a lesser effect upon, however, it did happen about 15 feet below the bed that I sleep in. It's terrible and it's a major bummer... she was only 62 from what I could gather. (Never Let You Go by Third Eye Blind) What really sucks is that she had 2 sons that live in California and Italy. My landlord had the displeasure of making that phone call. That's gotta be a tough one to be on the ringing end of. My most sincere and heartfelt condolences go out to them. If it ever comes my way, I don't know what I'd do. I am dreading that day.

(Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous by Good Charlotte)

Ya know, I've been asked this question before, and my answer has been standard for a while now. The question is, "when do you think you're going to retire?" You can ask anyone that's ever posed this question to me. My answer is invariably, "as soon as my parents die." No, my loyal readers, I don't want my parents to die. There were a couple times around ages 12-18 when I would have volunteered a different answer, but no, I don't want that. (Time Heals by The Gear Daddies) I hope my parents die very old, in their sleep... kind of like my grandfather... not screaming like the people that were passengers in his car when it happened.

Well, after a very brief interview with a couple of Rochester's finest... giving my name, age and phone number, I headed up to Wilson Farms for a pack of smokes. I know... ironic, right? (Jane Says by Jane's Addiction) I gave my mom the courtesy of a call and told her about today's events. She asked me if I was creeped out and wanted to stay at her place, given that some woman had just died right below my bedroom. Uh, no... it would take a hell of a lot more for me to be creeped out enough to go sleep on her couch. Don't get me wrong... I love my mother and her husband is a nice guy, but I'm not about to go camp at their place. Besides, the woman that died was a really nice lady, and I don't think that she'd haunt me or my house enough to make me lose sleep. Also, I have enough alcohol here to let me sleep through an invasion of gay, tambourine playing, shotgun wielding, Nazi hypochondriacs with Tourette's syndrome. I think I'll be fine. (I Don't Wanna Be by Gavin DeGraw)

After sitting out in front of my place with the landlord and Doug shooting the breeze, lo and behold, who shows up but Josh. That's right, the little weirdo potter guy that used to live across the hall in the former corner apartment (enough, already). He shows up and the medical examiner's truck is in my driveway. He doesn't see me right away, and the look on his face was priceless. It was something between seeing Niagara Falls for the first time and getting your first bill from your wireless provider after you signed up for the $29.95 plan and talked for 1,972 minutes. You know what I'm talking about. You've done it, and so have I. (Numb by Linkin Park) When he finally saw me, the first words out of his mouth were, and I quote, "Jesus, dude... I thought one of your ex's finally snapped and put a bullet in your head." Yeah... thanks for that vote of confidence. Although, I will say that I have had a girl raise a butcher knife above her head in a very threatening manner while screaming, "I love you!!!" Yeah, not sure if that image and that dialogue quite mesh. We don't date anymore.

(Border Town by The Gathering Field)

Nevertheless, after confirming with the officers that they didn't need anything more from me, Josh and I headed upstairs to the corner apartment (f'ing knock it off) to catch the end of the Yanks game. Sadly, they lost to those Boston punks. Every now and again it will happen. Bummer.

Luckily, my beer of the month selection had just come in, so the game didn't seem like as big a deal as it was twenty minutes before my fourth beer. (Buddy Holly by Weezer) I was still kind of at a loss for words because, well, someone f'ing died in my house. As I walked out into my kitchen for another round for Josh and me, I looked out the window and they were just wheeling her lifeless body out of her corner apartment. Suddenly, the game, the beer, and Josh weren't really that significant. Yes, they were things going on in my life at that moment, but it was like time froze for just a second. As cliche as it sounds, it makes you think about your own mortality and how your part in this world will come to a close.

(A Praise Chorus by Jimmy Eat World)

As much as we think that we'll end up in our beds, surrounded by grandkids and great grandkids, with flowers and family pictures on the wall, nobody really knows. I'm fairly certain when Mary thought about this, if ever, that she would be alone in her apartment, with her landlord calling her kids 3,000 miles away and telling them that their mother just passed away. (Again by Lenny Kravitz) Then again, maybe she did. I guess the best thing that I, you, and we can hope for is that she did, and it was peaceful, and that she's in a better place, and she's looking down on her kids saying, "don't worry, it's cool, I'm fine and I love you" and looking down on her last dwelling saying, "hey Rich, thanks for going to the store and getting cigarettes for me, and have a kick-ass party during Park Ave. Fest... you're an alright guy."

(Geek In The Pink by Jason Mraz)

I guess that I've said enough to pay homage to Mary. I'm going to miss her. She was a real nice lady. Again, to her kids (if they ever read this... however doubtful, but it's the thought that counts), I am truly sorry for your loss. I can't possibly imagine. I remember when my two best friend's parent's passed away and I could see it in their eyes the pain that they were feeling. If they miss them half as much as I do, then it's gotta be tough... but I wrote about Al a long time ago.

(Get Back by Buckcherry)

Funny I just mentioned Al. Again, to this very day, I still talk about him and tell "Al stories." That's what I want. For a long, long, long time after I'm gone, I want people to tell "Rich stories," and remember a good time or a goofy, stupid thing that I did and smile. However, more than likely, one of the goofy, stupid things that I do will result in my death and that's how the story will live on. Let's hope not. By the way, if you don't know who Al is, you're one, not a loyal reader, or two, you should go back into the archives and find out. I still miss him. If you didn't know him (and most people that read this didn't), you missed out. Actually, another thing that I can hope for Mary is that she meets Al in the great beyond. He'll take care of her and tell her dirty jokes until she smiles. I would defy anyone in the afterlife to not laugh with, at, or alongside Al. I feel better now.

(Ocean Avenue by Yellowcard)

(Fat Lip by Sum 41)

Writer's block.

(You Don't Mess Around With Jim by Jim Croce)

(All Star by Smash Mouth)

Well, seeing as I still have writer's block and it's been two songs now, I'm going to sign off. It's late and I got stuff to do tomorrow... like softball. I haven't swung a bat since the close of the season last year. Hopefully I can pull off a performance better than Johnny Damon did last night... 0 for 4 at his first time in Fenway as a Yankee. Ugh. I'm almost grateful that the game got rained out tonight. However, the rain out gave me free time to watch my Sabres win in Philly tonight to advance to the second round of the playoffs. There's that silver lining thing again.

(Friday Afternoon by The Floating Men)

(She Hates Me by Puddle of Mudd)

Can you tell I'm trying to think of how to wrap this up?

(Basket Case by Green Day)

(Drift Away by Uncle Kracker)

(Dirty Little Secret by The All-American Rejects)

(Alright Guy by Todd Snider)

(The Geeks Get The Girls by American Hi-Fi)

Well, I'll just sign off by saying that it's late, my martini is empty, and I have shit to do tomorrow. I think a new record store opened up in Irondequoit.

Until next time...

R