Hard to imagine, but when I studied – back in Maastricht, starting back in 2002 – a DVD shop was the hot spot. It was where the cool guys would hang, when they weren’t tending bars or testing records. It was a little store on a corner, full of smoke solid as a block, being constantly solidified by the tall guy folding himself between the shelves on a rocked down stool behind the counter. He was a professional of the passionate kind, or the other way round, one that would read your mind, even if your taste was far gone of his own, say Jarmusch over Lynch, Bertolucci over Scorsese.
So nowadays Amazon and alike read my mind, posting propositions to stream in any corner of my screen. A very non mythical mathematical algorithm anchoring appetites in the periphery of my attention. Chances are high they propel themselves to the surface at another moment – on the edge of boredom most likely. The verge of indifference is sales man’s universe, ready to happily heave us into a domain of meaning. A platoon of potential for me to enter your visa card number here. This is not a note of nostalgia, all but. I tried to sell many of my books once. The store’s owner having fun. Tried to offer them, a present let’s say. Not to be done. So I left them on the public monolith at Merianplatz in the unbearable sound cloud of a sheepish street musician. So don’t think me a nostalgiac. But I do propose to keep little blurbs of the good old days alive in your student geography. Video City let’s say is still around today. Tiles on the floor instead of a smoke starched carpet and possibly not all of the personnel treats you so well as the almost famous Dutch DJ in a DVD store – but definitely worth a try.
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