I'll Never Lose Affection for People and Things That Went Before

Sometime in the last few months, a great number of my Lps & 45 singles were taken from my apartment. I've looked everywhere.

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The reason I looked in the first place, I'm writing a story about the day I bought the Beatles White Album at Alexanders' on 59th Street. Inside the sleeve of my White Album was the original New York Times review dated November 21, 1968. It meant much to me. It was the first time I bought the Times. It raised my Mom's attention, we were a Daily News and Mirror family. When the record came out I had to gather all reports on 30 new Beatle songs.

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I pulled everything out, can't find them. It's like someone was trying to hurt me surgically, because those missing are tied to my soul, the White Album, Rubber Soul, Revolver, Pepper, Band on the Run, Tug of War, Ram, McCartney, Venus and Mars, Exile on Main Street, Beggars Banquet, Let It Bleed, Sticky Fingers, Making Movies, Doors, The Cars, Tommy, Who's Next, Quadrephenia, and many, many more... Someone crushed my heart with a cinder block.

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I don't think anything else was taken in the apartment. Nothing was messed up. I've looked everywhere three times, and the selectivity of the records missing works against me finding them, I'd never put this group of albums together. I played Band on the Run a few months ago, making a tape for a friend, so it happened after that. And the records were worthless to sell, they're scratched and the album covers look like they'd been through a war. Lots of Scotch tape on all of them. It hurts, I'm not even mad, just deeply sad.

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McCartney ~ bought the album on St. Paddy's day 1970 and went up Buddy's apartment on 80th Street to listen to it. We drank Ripple Red and split a bag of Barbecue potato chips looking out the window at St. Monica's directly across the street.

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Down Freddy Muller's 414 East 83rd Street's cellar in January, 1969, dancing close with a girl to the Beatles Long, Long, Long Time. Freddy's dad was the building super and Freddy slipped me the keys. I was so excited when we danced cheek to cheek listening to George whisper sing the song, I broke out in hives. Scared the heck out of the girl. Me too, i thought I was dying.

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Listening to the Rolling Stones, Sticky Fingers, with Ronny Hanerfeld and others, hiding in Mayo's grocery basement freezer on York Avenue in 1972 drinking Miller High Life beer out of the cases we were sitting on. We plugged the portable record player into the wall socket. Five of us snuck down there to get out of the heat.

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Inside Revolver's album cover was the first greeting card I ever got from a girl. My first girlfriend and her friends, gave me a get well card when I had my appendix out in St. John's on Queens Blvd when I was 15. My hospital roommate kept sneaking out at night to see the same movie at the Elmwood Theatre one block away.

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I hoped Alison would find the 1968 Times review someday, and notice the review date was the same day as her birthday, November 21st, nineteen years earlier.

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Tangible memories of my young life in Yorkville, gone. Johnny, help me here.

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Though I know I'll never lose affection,

For people and things that went before.

I know I'll often stop and think about them,

In my life I love you more.
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