Ever have a special attachment to a particular album, even though the band itself has never really been thought as one of your favorites? Yet they have that one album that you bought years ago, and it's become a soundtrack for part of your life? Well this is such a tale.

Tuesday was getting increasingly psychotic. I simply could not get that thing my manager Kole gave me done by yesterday, because I was surprised by another assignment from Malley upstairs. Actually, my database got corrupted somehow, and I spent the day trying to fix it, and finally just building a new damn database from scratch. THEN I finally got around to finishing what I wanted to finish just for Malley.

While I'm working away, the Doc calls. Fuck, I totally forgot about that night's appointment. I wrote it down, but not in my calendar here at work. She told me that I'd still be charged for the session, out of my own pocket. But eventually I can leave work and head downtown. Two brand new albums from two special bands just hit the stores. I had THAT marked in my calendar. (Oh, and while on the subject: yes, it is OK to say "album". It is not the same exact thing as a "record" or "vinyl". "Album" means a full-length recording on any format: record, cassette, 8-track, or CD. So for those who giggle when they hear somebody say "album", go fuck yourself.)

Finding a parking space in Boston is of course bordering on the impossible. But after driving around, I finally find one. What? Who's that walking up to it? That fucking bitch! Walking up and holding that space for somebody. And she has the nerve to look up and smile. Fucking cunt. I flipped her off and drove on. Right around the corner -- ah ha! A space! Blow me, you jolly space-saving vermin. I park and run around the corner and up the street.

Into Newbury Comics. "Can I help you find anything?" No, I think I've got a hold of this extremely complex concept called "alphabetized". Hmm, they have one of the CDs, but not the other one. I do have a Virgin Megastore "buy 10 get 1 free" card, but what the hell. I know it will be cheaper here. I take a long look again and again though the re-re-relreased Iron Maiden CDs. Hmm. I'll just wait until next time to figure out which ones I want to add to my collection. I bring the lone CD up to the register, and the clerk says "Why weren't you here to buy this last night?" Oh, I get it. Some "midnight release" thing. Whatever, just ring the fucking thing up and give it to me. "That's a 5". Jesus, I don't have time for this shit today. I take back the $5 bill that I thought was a $20, and slam down the $20. There, finally fucking done. Off to Virgin to find that other CD.

I see a rack of 'em. I grab one. Hmm, and not as outrageously priced as I thought. So what else is around here? Let's see. The "Overkill" section catches my eye. Now for years, I've been looking in the Overkill sections of countless stores, looking for that one damn album on CD, "Under The Influence". The only other copy I ever had was a tape I dubbed from a friend back in highschool, and the last song was mostly cut off. And this time, the CD was there! Right in the front of the section! I gleefully grabbed it right away. It was the one I listened to on the way home.

This album, for me, was about pure hateful rage. This is the album that I listened to when I was 15 on those days I was full of the blackest human emotions. The days when I was so tempted to bring an aluminum baseball bat to school. Every time I was completely forced to get my hair cut. Every domestic dispute that came close to being violent, if it wasn't getting violent already. All those times I was forced to go to mass on Sunday, to kneel before a god I had zero interest in, no matter how many times my parents heard me tell them, a religion I felt nothing but disgust for, and being expected to eat that flat bread representing that mythical man-god's flesh. I'm sure that to some these situations will sound worth forgetting, provoke some competetive "you-think-YOU-had-it-bad" response, or even seem laughable. That's completely not the point. The point is, the feeling was there. That deepest, blackest rage, when the mind is so close to just snapping. Conservatives always liked to turn that around, and say that the music causes kids to rage. It doesn't. Raging kids are the ones who choose the soundtracks to help expell their emotions. For some at that age who aren't into sports, the music is the only thing they have.

After always listening to this album in those specific moods, it started to grow a stigma to it from association. I could listen to the album and feel that all again. And damn, the CD of it couldn't have come into my hands on a more appropriate day. I don't believe in destiny, but it seemed like such a beacon to me. I felt a lot better by the end of that night.

"Sorry if I'm not as nice as you could be
Why don't you take the time to see
That the world does not revolve around only you
And we got better things to do." - Overkill, "Drunken Wisdom"