Things in the Post

I like getting things in the post. I always have and I certainly hope that I always will. The thing about post is that there’s always a little sense of anticipation before you tear back the crisp white paper fold of the envelope or rip into the resilient grey plastic of those weird waterproof jiffy bags. Amazon even have a tiny little cardboard pull strip on their small packets, It never seems to work properly though. The delight of opening the post is like a tiny, little, private birthday present, or a brief personal Christmas. Getting post of any sort, for me at least, makes me feel important almost special. And then there’s the little guessing game before you open as you try to work out what’s inside, as you test the weight and check the return address info on the back. It’s an almost spiritual experience. Were I to get a letter from the bank that simply read:

Dear Sir,

We have spent all of your money on whores and caviare. We decided this was the best use of your money as you are poor and by extension unimportant.

Love and kisses

Fat-Cat McBankerson

New Bankerson Bank Corporation

– “We are proper gits”

I would, of course, be slightly miffed that I wasn’t at least invited round to Fat-Cat McBankerson’s swinging bachelor pad for of an evening of snorting caviare off a hooker’s belly (that’s what you do with caviare right? I wouldn’t know, I’m poor.) But I would still be happy I got a letter. I like post. Post is fucking magical.

Last week I received something that I’ve been awaiting with bated breath for quite some weeks. Inside two, yes two, waterproof, plastic jiffy bags (sealed at opposite ends no less) all the way from Lake Stevens in Washington State, Americaville, came this sexy little thing:

That’s not glare from the window, that’s dramatic lens flare!

You may recall that not so very long ago I waxed lyrical about the wonders of scenic Skyrim. I didn’t make any mention of its music however, something which is a small crime in of itself. The soundtrack is the largely the work of Mister Jeremy Soule. A man who has in the past turned his talented hands to produce the soundtrack of both Morrowind and Oblivion (those being the predecessors to Skyrim), as well as all four iterations of Guild Wars. The soundtracks to which I also have previously procured for my listening pleasures. I think it’d be safe to say that I was a bit of a fan. My delight at receiving this parcel was compounded further upon opening out the folds.

Signed. Signed in a shiny golden swirl of incomprehensibility. It contrasts quite nicely with the start black and silver. Within these two further leaves lay the real treasures. The CDs themselves. All four of them.

Together they amount to over three and a half hours of music. Not bad for about £25. I’ve listened to one track alone over eighty times, it’s very catchy, it’s got big booming drums and a terrifying Nordic choir bellowing the fictional language of the Dovah (it actually sounds very Slavic). I’d say I’ve probably gotten my money’s worth. Digital downloads are great and all, but I like to have something tangible, something solid and ultimately, something real. Not just a string of ones and zeroes embedded on a whirling plate of magnetised metal. (Even if that is what CDs essentially are…)

Email is great and all, it’s especially good for firing off quick queries or snippets of information. But at the end of the day, I hope that post survives. I like getting post, it’s solid, it’s tangible and it makes me feel real, it’s an anchor in an increasingly intangible world of nebulous and ethereal online data.

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About The Rogue Verbumancer

A chemistry graduate consumed by the demons of apathy and disinterest. Likes tea and cheese. Sleeps less than he should. View all posts by The Rogue Verbumancer

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