the short-term (happy) and the long-term (sad) of it
posted by kristen keller on 08 june 2002
 

When I got halfway to the swing and realized I didn't have any bug spray on, I knew I wouldn't last long. But that's when I got a whole new idea-- a short swing and a long walk down into the pulse of Georgetown to pick up the new Belle and Sebastian record at Olsson's Books and Music.

But at the first sign of an empty window and neon cardstock flyers advertizing a 25% off store-closing sale, I knew I wouldn't find any new Belle and Sebastian records. I stopped outside the store and looked in for a few moments. How could they close? I wansn't happy with stories about lost leases and the lack of satisfactory Georgetown spaces-- this was a little indie haven amidst all of the daddy's plastic of M Street. My little indie haven. My little place for a quick music fix, for a last minute gift purchase, for the best art book remainders. B and I had his zoo pictures developed at the adjoining Ritz Camera and he bought his camera bag here-- this store couldn't close. It's part of relationship history-- with landmark stature.

I stepped into the busy store and walked around the half-empty shelves, through the aisles lit with deadening flourescent bulbs. And then I was drawn to the sale CDs. A great collection of Johnny Mercer standards for $5. A remixed disc of Bebel Gilberto songs for $7. And a double disc Lyle Lovett with moody black and white cover art for $9-- with no less than five songs with "Texas" in the title. I thought Belle and Sebast-who? This was treasure.

Sure, the Rosslyn store isn't far away. Just across the bridge, really. But though I'm brimming with musical treasure now, any day now I'm sure to crave the new Aden or Pedro the Lion close to 11pm, and my little comfort just a few blocks South on Wisconsin Avenue won't be there to squelch my thirst.

And when it happens, I'll put Lyle in to remember. To lament. And to comfort.