Sunday, December 31, 2006

Milk, eggs, butter, Muzak

Publix, you're disappointing me. While doing the weekly shopping (which I hate) yesterday, I looked forward to enjoying the incredibly hip Muzak you pipe in (which I love). You've introduced me to new songs that have become guilty pleasures ("Irresistible" by The Corrs; so shamefully catchy that I joined the girl at the deli, singing along) and you've brought me back to old, seemingly forgotten favorites that I'd filed away in the dusty corners of my mind ("Save It For A Rainy Day" by Stephen Bishop - ah, those glorious '70s childhood summers so long ago). Every time I push my shiny cart through the automatic doors, I think to myself "What does the Publix playlist sensei have in store for ME today?" Gliding along through the miles of aisles, my ears remain ever-alert for that special song - the one that will have me whipping out my checkbook, furiously scribbling down lyrics or an artist that I recognize or a song title. I'll do what it takes to later rush home, seek out the Song Du Jour online and download that baby onto iTunes. Pure joy!

Publix, let's talk. One reason I shop you instead of Atlanta's other main grocer, Kroger, is that I cannot *stand* KRGR Radio, the in-store music/announcement service your competition uses. Between some truly awful '80s-era soft rock/ballad selections (Michael Effing Bolton comes to mind), KRGR Radio breaks in to remind us that Dinty Moore canned beef stew is on sale this week for only 89 cents. Even FM radio affords listeners the pleasure of the six-song rock block, at the bare minimum, before making with the yak-yak ads. Publix, you gave me an hour's worth of uninterrupted sonic immersion while I comparison-shopped in the cereal aisle. We had something unique. We had a shared love of music, rare among a chain grocery store and a patron. It was our thing.

And then... yesterday. Not to land a gut-punch at the start - and I know you're trying to please all segments of your shopping demographic - but when I swooshed through the front doors out of the icky, chilly, rainy Saturday sog I expected, say, the dulcet tones of Travis' "Why Does It Always Rain On Me." Admittedly, that was a tall order but you've played it before when I was trolling the dairy cooler and I've never looked at 2% milk the same way since. But I didn't get Travis. I got Billy Joel. Specifically, I got "An Innocent Man," a Billy Joel song that should be outlawed from public (or Publix) airplay. Okay, I told myself, this is just a minor annoyance. I'll live through this. It's a perfect time to shop the detergent aisle. I hate shopping the detergent aisle - almost as much as I hate that song.

My allergies kicking in thanks to the smell of Cheer mixed with Tide mixed with Fab as the Piano Man whined on, I mentally ran through the list of Publix's Smash Hits I'd heard in-store: The Cardigans' "Rise And Shine" (which literally got me to stop fondling tomatoes for freshness in Produce and stand there, slackjawed, in disbelief that a chain store would be so cool as to play The Cardigans)... John Mayer's "Why Georgia" and "No Such Thing" (yeah, yeah - Mayer is sort of readymade for supermarket play but would you rather buy your lunch meat listening to Richard "Endless Summer Nights" Marx?)... Shawn Colvin's "Round Of Blues" (hip mom music to buy Skippy to)... the aforementioned Travis song... Snow Patrol's "Chasing Cars" (SNOW PATROL! in the snacks aisle! *swoon*)... Chicago's "Street Player" (this put me in such a '70s frame of mind that I bought Rice-A-Roni; I'm not kidding)... The Fray's "How To Save A Life" (yes, it's overplayed but it takes on a whole new life when you're pondering whether to go with Folgers or Maxwell House)... the list literally goes on and on.

Until yesterday. Oh, all wasn't lost. Once Billy Joel finally shut up, "Why Georgia" bubbled forth from the speakers as I piled the really good stuff - milk, snacks, cheese - into my cart and I relaxed, feeling happy that all was once again right with the world.

And then... then... a COMMERCIAL?!!!

Not unlike KRGR Radio's "Buy Dinty Moore" spots, Publix now interrupts the music flow with "Make Your Meals Memorable, Publix Shoppers, By Adding Asiago Cheese Bread From Our Specialty Bakery To Your Menu" promos.

This. Is. Unacceptable.

Look, Publix, here's the deal: First off, we can't HEAR the "Memorable Meals" bits because, in case you forgot, you're piping them into a supermarket. Supermarkets are strangely quiet, yet full of the kind of white noise that drowns out everything but... MUSIC. The music moves us. It shepherds us from deli to bakery, from fresh meats to dairy, from produce to pharmacy. Get the picture? When you break it up to push asiago cheese bread sales on us, you're throwing off our natural grocery store flow. Stop it. Stop it now or I'll start being one of those people who wears her iPod Shuffle right into the store in order to groove to my own beats. And I don't use those wanky little earPods, so you'll have me in there rocking disco cans while I ask for a rotisserrie lemon pepper chicken. Don't think I won't do it, either.

Publix, I'm not asking for much here. Just give me back my shopping music without interruption. Remind me why Publix is Where Shopping Is A Pleasure and reverse this need to make Publix the store Where Shopping Is A Pressure.

Friday, December 29, 2006

One step at a time

There was a time when I must have seemed like a freak to other people, back when I walked four miles a day, seven days a week. Posting 28 miles a week? Totally normal to me. Back in 2003. And even then, I felt so out of shape - like I could be doing more. Obviously, if I was capable of getting in 28 miles then why couldn't I do an extra 2.5 miles every couple of days? After all, 6.5 miles is the length of a 10K - specifically, the Peachtree Road Race, which I speedwalk/jog each July 4 - and it seemed to me back then that if I could generally put in the 6.5 miles a couple times a week I'd be more than ready for the race.

But these days I must be slipping - no, I freely admit that I have slipped back somewhat into the depression that I'll be battling all my life. Don't worry; I'm not depressed to the point where I'm miserable. I'm still seeing my doctor and my therapist and they agree that I'm much better than I was when I first started coming to them. It's just that my life has changed dramatically since my father's death last December and I'm going through an adjustment period. I'm now primarily responsible for my mother's care, which is OK with me, but it's definitely a change. It's difficult. When my dad was here, even when he was sick, at least he was still *here*. Now when I'm not here, my mom is alone. And that worries me. I don't want her to get sick, fall or feel lonely. I love my mom more than anyone in the world. She's 78. I'm 34. I'll never have as much time with her as I wish I could have.

Today my therapist suggested that, until I can leave work early enough in the afternoons to get back into my regular walk/jog routine at the local park, I should start small. Instead of using the elevator to get to my 8th floor desk, he said, take the stairs. I did that - twice, in fact - and it felt so good to challenge myself again in a minor way, to not take the lazy way out, to break out of even one routine that I feel guilty for letting myself fall prey to when I know there's a better, more positive way.

Monday, December 25, 2006

Godspeed, Godfather


He's the Hardest Working Man in Heaven now.

R.I.P. James Brown.

Friday, December 08, 2006

Point of departure


So I'm standing there, six classic Blue Note jazz albums (CDs, I mean) in my hand, when he speaks to me.

"Hey, do you listen to jazz?"

Obviously. Since I'm standing there, six classic Blue Note jazz albums (CDs, I mean) in my hand, when he speaks to me. I politely say that I do. He asks me if I've ever heard of Boney James. I say yes, although I'm thinking to myself that Boney James isn't one of "my" jazz guys; I wouldn't buy his stuff. When people in record stores ask me if I've "heard of" someone, I almost always say yes because after having worked at a record store myself for seven years and as a musichead, I've "heard of" tons of artists. But I haven't necessarily really *heard* them. Nor do I like them. I simply have a general knowledge of the fact that they exist. And so, yes - I could honestly say that I had "heard" of Boney James. But it was the kind of "I've heard of him" feeling I get when a little alarm goes off in my head that says "You once filed this artist's CDs in the Lame Jazz section and resented doing it." I like my jazz old school and mostly Blue Note. I am a music snob. And proud.

"I've been looking all over for Boney James in this section but I don't know whether to look under 'Boney' or 'James'..." His voice brought me out of my reverie. Automatically, I said that he should look under "James" and since I happened to literally be right next to the "J" section, I found the Boney James CDs and directed him to them. You can take the girl out of the record store but you can never really take the record store out of the girl.

He thanked me, then proceeded to tell me how awesome Boney James is. The question that I just *knew* was coming next followed:

"You heard his stuff?"

Look, here's why any of this matters. Was he cute? Oh, yes. Blonde, blue-eyed, tall, lanky and willing to talk to a stranger in the record store. All good things. But the thing is, he's into Boney James. He likes this newfangled elevator music that masquerades as "jazz" because - let's face it - it would never sell in the record store if you properly categorized it for what it is: "That Muzak Your OB/GYN Pipes Into His Office To Soothe You While You Wait To Hear The Dreaded Words 'Ready For Your Pap Smear?'"

There's no pretend future for Mr. Pap Smear Muzak Guy and me. Because I love jazz. Anyone who listens to this stuff must really HATE jazz. And good taste. But his one-step-away-from-a-1992-era-Hypercolor-shirt should've clued me into that.

OK, fine. Maybe this is why I'm still single. But I have my Grant Green to keep me warm.

Monday, December 04, 2006

Those bins back then


local something
Originally uploaded by turbohamster.
Today is one of those days when I really miss working at the record store. This photo reminds me of the good times.