The Warmth Of Your Love's Like The Warmth Of The Sun

Amoeba today--50-year-old harmless weird dude talked to me about my record choices (of course, this is a regular occurrence), they kept saying "Logan, you have a phone call" over the PA and it threw me off (it's this girl Melissa Logan who's worked there forever; we figured out a while back that she has the inverse of my first and middle names), I got Eric Donaldson ("Cherry Oh Baby") and Os Mutantes on vinyl, and they put on The Zombies like 20 minutes into my shopping experience. That song "This Will Be Our Year" came on, and it's just so ridiculously pretty and melodic; as soon as it began I stopped rifling through the stacks and looked all around at the sea of Amoebic humanity and grinned like I remembered being a teenage girl in 1968. I get this disgusting ability to get filled with an overall sense of well-being upon hearing the opening notes of a song from my parents, two people who have based their lives on Crosby, Stills, & Nash and Joni Mitchell albums. Thanks, anonymous record store employee who put on that album. You, sir or madam, must've sensed how my own warmth got rejected recently and you knew I needed to feel better--warm and cozy, if you will. Now, if you could just keep the 50-year-old weird dudes from commenting on my shopping patterns and making me even more self-conscious than I thought was humanly possible ("I saw you all over the store! You have some eclectic musical tastes!"), you would be a perfect and shining example of a human being.

[Just for the record (punny), I love weird dudes. I just don't like being abruptly made aware that some random dude has been watching me during my shopping time. It's embarrassing and makes me feel like my privacy has been invaded.]

This Will Be Our Year - Zombies