I don't know how many 78's I own, but 40 inches of shelf space (a little over 3 feet) are left after I've pulled 11 inches of possible discards. Fifty 78s appear to be about 4-5 inches worth
(I counted out the ones I've listened to today as I put them in the "get these out of my house" box). I'm looking at another 100 or so to listen to before I'm done with the pile, because I want to be sure that I'm not getting rid of some undiscovered gem, even though almost everything so far has been either a crooner or a big band song (and thus relatively disposable).
How did I end up with so many? good question. when I got my portable victrola (it's sooo cool, and you can DJ 78's if you wanna be super old school. I've done this once at a party, and it was much fun), I was looking for stuff to play on it, and I lived in SF, where thrifts are overpicked and 78s are often scarce. So I often ended up buying 78s in batches, sometimes sight unseen , from bookstores or yardsales- $5 for 30-40 78s- they were happy to unload them. Every once in a while, there'd be a treasure in there (Spike Jones, for instance), but for the most part, it was stuff that doesn't interest me. Most of my collection, sad to say, I've never even heard. And now that I have plenty of 78s I'd actually want to hear more than once (I'm up to 11 or 12 Spike Jones, dozens of Three Suns and Xavier Cugats, and some 1940's R&B/"race music" that I'd wager never made it to vinyl LP) , it's time to cut loose the dead weight (literally. these fuckers weigh a ton).
So I'm suffering. Since 4 or 5pm, I've been listening to them, doing the obsessive compulsive "make sure these really are crap before I send them to the thrift" thing. And most of them are unbearably cheesy "Object of my Affection" crooning sissies. And I brought it all on myself. I'm to blame for not being more selective, or not purging the collection earlier. Even after I go thru these first 150, I could probably still pull another 20-50 off the shelf and feel no great loss. But for now, this is all I can handle. At least I can feel okay about skipping the gym this week, because the average 78 only holds 2-3 minutes of music, so I've gotten out of my chair and walked over to flip or change the record over 90 times by now. Luckily, there's plenty to pack in this room, so I can multitask while I listen. The tiki collection near the computer, for instance, is probably okay to pack, as I'm unlikely to "need" it in the next 4-6 weeks.
Sigh. I am a bad person and the movers are still going to hate me no matter how much purging I do. I am a material object glutton. Even though I took 3 garbage bags full of clothing and household stuff to the thrift on Monday, I still feel like I should get rid of MORE MORE MORE. That's the problem with a town like this: living space is cheap and roomy, you have cool cheap stuff in the thrifts, and there's no real reason to control your aquiring. Then four and a half years later, you've got too many records, too many books chosen soley for their oddity value, too many "Where -can't- you wear a three piece denim suit?" costumes in your closet, and too much stress come moving time.
But that said, no, Oro, you can't have my tikis. :-) Those I'm keeping.
And as for the rest of the weekend, Lemur tells it way more eloquently than I could: The Weekend of Gay, or, Edith Massey's Party Dream Go read that and pretend you saw it here.