Quest
No one calls in requests to radio stations anymore. No one there to answer the phone if they did. Even if you could, I really doubt that “I dunno what it is called, but I saw a Lexus shaking to it at a stop sign this morning” would jog many happy memories. Besides, no need. It’s all there for the picking and would have to be awfully damn obscure if it isn’t found someplace online. I miss doing my own detective work. I miss it the same way I miss the death of off seasons and the way nothing used to happen on Sunday–before the world acquired a similarity to supermax prison cells, in which the lights are on 24 hours a day.
Continue reading “Week 474: The Quest; Five Stars; Little Lists”