“Talking Heads or Buzzcocks?”

I’m thinking about opening a record store with my friend, though he doesn’t know it yet. We’ll be using his funds. I’ll just sit there and run it, and I’ll only need like $15,000 a year. The store will have fresh coffee on at all times for customers to drink, and it will sell beer, and then the only other merchandise will be CD’s and blank CD’s, and then whatever posters we got for free. Every three months we’d stage a mix-CD contest. It would be five bucks to enter, and each and every entrant would have their songs posted on the wall, with their name, and the winner would get $50 or so.
What could go wrong? Well, somehow, there could be no more Buzzcocks or Talking Heads. This would sabotage the operation for sure. Talking Heads secure the mind for things done in solitude, things like making mixes. This kind of stuff is important for conversation subject matter, answering what you did on a given day at a given time. Made a mix, and the Talking Heads reminded me not to think too hard about it, they gave the patterns of my eyes just the right mental trajectory for grasping intensity and mood of each successive track instinctively, not mechanically. So what else are you up to? Well, fell in love. What to say, how long to stare? When to ask questions, when to joke? The Buzzcocks song hidden at the bottom of all of them, the angriest one, and also the most infatuated one, the one none of us will probably ever need, what with “Ever Fallen in Love?” and “Noise Annoys,” is “Autonomy.” Tap the keg of conversation, but keep it fresh with some celestial focus. Why would you need these two bands if you were to open a record store? Well mainly, they induce enough delusional euphoria so as to negate the logical notion that record stores are doomed to fail these days. Also, once you opened it, you’d know everything. And that’s really the only requirement of working at a record store.