This is my future. House turned over to music.
I guess it's called the sugar shack.
Make sure you get your shots before you go in.
8 track tapes in the kitchen sink and stacked up in a mini pile wherever there are more than 5 inches of free space. (but no john lennon, cos i looked)
i didn't check the medicine cabinet, but there were cassette tapes everywhere (oh the humanity!)
Dining room is full of boxes of cds. on tables, in shelves, hanging from the ceiling (still a little light here, this is not Iowa after all, so some treats were to be found)
Living room is wall to wall vinyl. (literally and figuratively, although i didn't have the patience to look through the boxes, and my 'married to the mob' vinyl never did sell....how does he do that?)
Some old rolling stones and cream magazines plaster the walls throughout.
There were posters (will there be posters?) and videos (vhs, dvd, and dare i say it, betamax)
off to one side of the living room is a counter/desk/table with a cash register hidden amongst piles of random music artifacts (and probably dinosaur bones too for all i could see.
one the wall/shelves behind the counter/desk/table were the real goodies. the vinyl melloy would love, boxed sets i don't need (but wouldn't mind fondling), stuff i don't know that just smirks rarity.
Maybe more than a hint of mustiness pervades the space. (the windows have long since been painted shut...with what could only be lead paint) but another scent permeates as well. fulfillment? contentment? dunno. something satisfied. damn place is a dump (did i mention the soiled Hanes between the sidewalk and the house on my way in?) but the owner is living the life.