I put on Velvet Revolver’s first and only record for two reasons:

1) as nothing more than a test of my patience…

and

2) to hear how loud I could crank my new speakers!

I’m stoked.

I scored a pair of vintage Klipsch Heresy’s off eBay. My old speakers were about the size of refrigerators. My little house is a total bachelor pad, and the first clue anyone got when they walked through my front door were the speakers that used to take up my entire front room. I have no idea who made them, but my pal J gave them to me before he hauled ass to Hawaii. They were so gargantuan he didn’t want to deal with shipping them.

I loved those speakers, but I’ve wanted Heresys since I can remember. Since I started listening to records. It was about the same time I had black light posters lining my bedroom walls, and whenever my girlfriend would sneak in late at night, I’d have all the lights off — except my black light, of course — and something like Pink Floyd’s Animals playing softly. That, or, say, an early Genesis record…the ones when Peter Gabriel was still in the band.

Once inside my room, we’d make out, and if the Gods were smiling upon me, I’d get a handjob.

It’s so fucking nice to spend time at home. My new porno studio had consumed so much of my time since October, I almost forgot how nice my little Arizona bungalow is…and how many records I have. Cause I’m looking at them now, scattered all over the place.

I’ve always been a collector. In 5th grade it was beer cans. Then records. And books. And it’s pretty much been books and records ever since the beer can craze ended, in, say, 1979. Oh! Don’t forget vintage smut! I collect that, too.

And since I’ve got some time on my hands, and no dirty movies to make, why not clean up my place a bit? Get the records off the floor, mainly, and since I lost my gigantic speakers, everything off the tops of them have to be put away, too: CD’s, pictures of my family, my anti-static record zapping gun; a handful of reader’s club book cards from a local used bookstore, assorted pens and pencils, loose change, and last month’s ARTFourm.

It’s been less than 10 minutes, and my patience is tried. Isn’t it funny that The Velvet Revolver isn’t even 1/10,000th as good as The Velvet Underground, even though both lead singers were junkies?

I don’t remember buying Coltrane’s A Love Supreme, but there it is! And what a reprieve from Scott Weiland. And sure enough, here’s two copies of R.E.M.’s first EP, to go along with the one that’s already been filed away. But what’s a Sonny Rollin’s record doing in the REM section? And how in the world did The Fabulous Poodles get smooshed in between The Feelies?

I got my record shelving from IKEA. (It’s my corporate guilty pleasure, surpassed only by Starbucks). Thinking I’d outsmart the folks who designed my shelves, I attached 6 wooden coasters (also an IKEA purchase) under the shelving, so my cleaning lady could move it around to vacuum behind it. The problem, of course, is the shelves weren’t designed to have coasters under them, and with all my records shelved, the bottom started to bow…and it bowed so much my little brother had to pull all the records off and remove the coasters. Creepy Q, our editor, helped out. With all my records all over the floor, they decided to put them in ABC order! Isn’t that nice? Except there’s a Solly Rollins record in with REM, and all my spoken word records got alphabetized instead of grouped into one section, as did my soundtracks and compilations. How in the world do you alphabetize a reggae compilation, anyway?

I shouldn’t bitch though; and, in fact, I’m grateful.

How did I end up here? Oh yea. There’s more records on my floor, but as I’m putting them away, I realize I’m totally losing any sort of long term memory I’ve had, cause no way in hell 10 years ago I’d buy three copies of anything REM made. They’re OK and all, but 3 copies? Of Chronic Town? My god! And here’s an unopened Postal Service, on white vinyl no less, with an extra 12″ and a booklet! When did I buy this?

OK, I won’t bore you anymore.

I should probably be talking about making dirty movies, right? About blowjobs and cumshots and ass eatin’ and girls eating pussy and sodomy and cuckolds and gloryholes and blow bangs and gangbangs and double vag and teen girls worshiping big black monster dicks.

There…feel better now?