don’t sell this man any more cds

Don’t Sell This Man Any More CDs

by Ed Collins/April, 1997

 

Judy said I can’t go to Tower Records any more.

She said she was going to take some photos of me down there

and give them to the clerks, and tell them not to sell me any more CDs.

“I’m going to tell them the children need shoes,” she said.

Pshaw.

We don’t even have any children.

And I like music.

I like to drive around in my van and listen to music.

I mean I don’t just drive around in my van and listen to music,

but if I didn’t always have something to do I might.

Like today I had to go to Chula Vista.  I wasn’t in a hurry,

so instead of returning on the freeway

I drove down Broadway until I got to National City.

I was listening to some Big Band music,

with singers like Ella Fitzgerald, Mel Torme,

Sarah Vaughn and Billie Holladay.

It’s weird to drive past dozens of taco shops, bars, dry cleaners, Jiffy Lubes,

video stores, Burger Kings and used car lots, while listening to music with lyrics like

            Jeepers Creepers, where’d you get those peepers

I’m not kidding, I laughed out loud while listening to that song while passing

a long-haired guy carrying a skateboard, with tatoos on his shoulder blades.

When I finally got on the freeway I punched a button and Chet Atkins took me home.