frippy I idly snap the plastic beltclip against the walkman case. I've never clipped it to the waistband of my pants, ever. Clasped in my hands, stuffed into a pocket, secreted into a side pocket on my backpack, the headphone cord snaking over my shoulder. I'm on a constant feed of anything that suits me. We travel together: on long walks, on short walks, on bus rides, on air flights, in grocery stores, in libraries, in the backseat of my parents' car. The night last May when I had you snug in my pocket at Disneyland, listening to Orbital whenever I got aboard roller coasters, that was magic, impossible without you. I may replace you, may get another model, but no matter who made you or what you look like, your identity and purpose never changes, setting the tempo, isolating me within crowds, providing soundtrack so that my life feels like a bad independent film. One day you'll be the deaf of me, but I'll always love you. 000511
kinimex when i awoke the giant stalkman stood grimacing above me. i followed the walkman to the store but i knew that he was no talkman. 010327
Meara I love my walkman. I turn it on, and tune out the entire world. Nothing exists except me and the music. I like to escape... 010327
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