This is what 8-track cartridges are good for today. Even (especially?) at an estate sale Sunday.
Even though I had little use for the things 30-something years ago, I still cannot escape the gnawing realization of these pictures as metaphor. For my youth.
For me.
FOR THE whole world I knew . . . and, frankly, thought wasn't that terrible.
Crap.
Yesterday's a dream
I face the mornin'
Cryin' on . . . CLUNK . . . a breeze
The pain is callin', oh Mandy
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