Spinning
I remember watching the turntable spinning slowly at 33 rpm. Once the record ended, the needle would bob back-and-forth in about an inch of space, popping and clicking, waiting for someone, or the nifty robot mechanism, to lift it off the vinyl. This comes to mind, an old memory now metaphor for the monotonous spinning of my life. Even flipped over on the B-side, it’s the same old song. The best I can do is use the velvet cloth to keep my life from getting too dusty, while waiting patiently, ever more patiently, to be lifted onto some new songs.
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- Tomorrow Could Be Wonderful · January 29‹ GuiltlessMorning ›