I write this as I watch three small bidding wars happening as auctions end... The 1966 Batman Television Series Theme LP went for a few dollars more than I anticipated... *KA-POW!* *ZOINK!* "Christmas Eve with Colonel Sanders" will finally make his chicken dance out of my home thankfully for a small profit. I was starting to get tired of looking at him dozing off... David Gilmour's self titled LP will be Running Like Hell as well.
Unfortunately, the other listings didn't go, so I'll probably give them a break. No one has any love for Jethro Tull, apparently. Such is life.
I do this after returning back from a two hour jaunt around town in search of estate sales with incorrect addresses and garage sales advertised for yesterday. I hadn't really planned on going out, but the weather's nice and I don't really have anything else on my plate until the afternoon.
After not finding the third estate sale, I started winding my way back into an area of town I hadn't really explored. I have a good inner compass and so don't mind meandering around winding roads keeping an eye out for garage sale signs -- and a few I spied, however there was absolutely nothing of interest.
I am a bit frustrated by this, but I am reminded of hunters of yore -- following trails that fade off into the wilderness.
I find myself in a completely unknown area of town and am getting tired of tracking specters of sales. I am considering this jaunt to be a wash. Well, I can't find motherlodes at every stop.
...or can I? Not a sale, but I look up and see a bright yellow sign glaring at me: SABADO: BARBACOA. Why not? Nothing brightens one day like a homemade salsa topping juicy, fatty Mexican barbecue. Well, perhaps finding a decent sale... no, no need to be bitter. Besides... no thinking now... barbacoa breakfast tacos. Nom nom nom.
My rusty Spanish is good enough to score me a small plate of steaming fresh tortilla happiness and orange soda.
At least the mystery of what to have for breakfast has been successfully solved.
Now, the next mystery is if this morning's buyers will pay within the next half hour so I can ship 'em out.
Saturday, November 16, 2013
Friday, November 15, 2013
It's Always The One You Least Expect
It's been a while since I've updated this blog. There are many reasons, but mostly it boils down to "real life" interrupting during the months of August and September. For those two long, hot and dry months, I batted goose eggs in this arena because I didn't even have the time to do a single listing.
But that's okay -- life is not all adventure and thrills and pills and bellyaches. Temperatures and stress levels have dropped so I've been able to finally get back into the game. I've become a bit more picky with my time, sticking to estate sales and what I know. In comparison, last month I made an impulse buy of a huge bin of comic books. I haven't even begun to list them. I got as far as making a spreadsheet cataloging them and being rather disappointed by seeing that maybe a handful of them might bring more than a buck. I personally don't care for comic books and so... there they sit until I'm ready to deal with them as lots just to free up the space.
Instead, music is my passion and my hobby -- so I'm limiting myself primarily to records since I know a bit more about them and they bring a better feeling of satisfaction when I stumble across something interesting.
I also realize that I have quite a different taste in music than others.
In my small hometown back in the early 80's, it seemed that there were two paths of musical interest. I liked the Beatles, Pink Floyd -- these lead me down the path to psychedelic rock, space rock, progressive rock -- and then to the strangeness that I appreciate today. My peers decided to go with Led Zeppelin which in turn led to Van Halen and eventually sporting Metallica's "Metal Up Your Ass" T-shirts to get that feeling of teenage rebellion. By that time, I was well into punk and industrial and read those shirts as signs that I wouldn't have much in common as far as music is concerned. I left 80's hair metal behind. Jello Biafra nailed it for me: "like a bad laxative - it just doesn't move me, you know?"
O, the way we (used to) communicate.
I see now that on eBay, Pink Floyd is a hot subject for collectors. Rather than buy lottery tickets, I now go to estate sales hoping that some day I'll hit on the holy grail: a quadraphonic 8-track of Dark Side of the Moon or something similar. Heck, even that compilation of "Collection of Great Dance Songs" which in my mind is nothing more than a cheap "best of 70's hits" of Floyd goes for a ridiculous amount. Now that I'm settled, I will admit that I've done my fair share of bargain hunting for these items... after all, nothing gives one the feeling of a well-funded mid-life crisis of identity like an alligator skin 8-track box chock full of Floyd, Funkadelic, Bowie and a true conversation piece: Kraftwerk's "Autobahn".
"Wir fahr'n fahr'n fahr'n auf der Autobahn", indeed. Die Autobahn des Lebens.
Recent estate sales have been doing well for me -- I've come across a few gems. I discovered a local heavy psyche rock band called "Space Opera" on a whim -- the collection at the sale had some very nice progressive rock records and I liked the cover. That one, I'm keeping. In the mix was a white label German pressing promotional of Frank Zappa's Mothers of Inventions' Live at the Fillmore 1971. Again, that one I'm keeping. As I know from earlier this year, for whatever reason, people love their Fleetwood Mac and this particular collection had quite a few in very good condition. I'm waiting on one more record to sell to push me into the black on that particular find.
Ok, Fleetwood Mac. I've started to listen to YouTube videos of some of these albums just to get my head into my buyers' mindset. (This is also how I realized that the Space Opera album had found it's "forever home" in with my keepers.) I still don't get it. Like Steely Dan or early Genesis, it just doesn't do much for me. However, I can see why someone else might like them and I'll continue to pick them up when I find them.
This brings me to yesterday -- CraigsList advertises an estate sale in one of the outlying towns. What grabs my attention is that this was a collection of items from a family that had been "transplanted from the UK sometime in the early 70's" and I note in one of the corners of the pictures what looks like records.
My mind does the symbolic math: UK + 70's = Beatles, etc. Probably worth the trip. I might even find something I like!
The record collection isn't as big as I hoped. However, sure enough -- two Beatles albums, solo albums by McCartney & Lennon... normally not that big of a deal however they are the UK releases and therefore are worth a wee bit more. A few kids' albums... I found that DisneyLand records do eventually sell -- nothing sexy, but hey... it all adds up over time and ... well, see above about Kraftwerk on 8-track. :/
Another interesting find is The Who's "Live at Leeds" album. The jacket is a bit beat up, but the inserts at a quick glance look interesting and I decide to take the gamble. At home, I see that one of the inserts has to do with Woodstock. Thanks to Wikipedia, I've successfully ID'ed this album as the German first pressing -- one of 500 copies. I get that warm fuzzy feeling.
So I spend some time last night listing happily away. There are a few other small items of note, nothing serious (so I think). All in all, if everything goes, it was worth my time and I even got a strange 67-68 era print featuring a Yellow Submarine-style drawing of a turtle along with the poem "The Little Turtle" by Vachel Lindsay. Silly, I know... but hey. It's the little surprises that make this fun...
Around 1 AM, my phone chimes -- *kaching!* ... an item sold. Well, ok... probably one of the Beatles records or maybe even that Who album... I turn over.
My phone chirps again - buyer has paid. Ok, fine... I'm curious... what is it?
"Your eBay item sold! STRYPER - The Yellow And Black Attack LP"
...
whut.
I look at it again to be sure. Yup, the Stryper album that I picked up for a laugh. Stryper, one of those hair metal bands from the 80's from which I would run screaming, covering my ears in horror. Stryper... with bad guitar riffs, poor production and of course, the overtly Christian themes.
Out of all the records that I have up for auction, it's Stryper that sells within 6 hours of listing. I haz teh lulz.
Methinks someone else is funding their mid-life crisis of identity. Well, good for them.
But that's okay -- life is not all adventure and thrills and pills and bellyaches. Temperatures and stress levels have dropped so I've been able to finally get back into the game. I've become a bit more picky with my time, sticking to estate sales and what I know. In comparison, last month I made an impulse buy of a huge bin of comic books. I haven't even begun to list them. I got as far as making a spreadsheet cataloging them and being rather disappointed by seeing that maybe a handful of them might bring more than a buck. I personally don't care for comic books and so... there they sit until I'm ready to deal with them as lots just to free up the space.
Instead, music is my passion and my hobby -- so I'm limiting myself primarily to records since I know a bit more about them and they bring a better feeling of satisfaction when I stumble across something interesting.
I also realize that I have quite a different taste in music than others.
In my small hometown back in the early 80's, it seemed that there were two paths of musical interest. I liked the Beatles, Pink Floyd -- these lead me down the path to psychedelic rock, space rock, progressive rock -- and then to the strangeness that I appreciate today. My peers decided to go with Led Zeppelin which in turn led to Van Halen and eventually sporting Metallica's "Metal Up Your Ass" T-shirts to get that feeling of teenage rebellion. By that time, I was well into punk and industrial and read those shirts as signs that I wouldn't have much in common as far as music is concerned. I left 80's hair metal behind. Jello Biafra nailed it for me: "like a bad laxative - it just doesn't move me, you know?"
O, the way we (used to) communicate.
I see now that on eBay, Pink Floyd is a hot subject for collectors. Rather than buy lottery tickets, I now go to estate sales hoping that some day I'll hit on the holy grail: a quadraphonic 8-track of Dark Side of the Moon or something similar. Heck, even that compilation of "Collection of Great Dance Songs" which in my mind is nothing more than a cheap "best of 70's hits" of Floyd goes for a ridiculous amount. Now that I'm settled, I will admit that I've done my fair share of bargain hunting for these items... after all, nothing gives one the feeling of a well-funded mid-life crisis of identity like an alligator skin 8-track box chock full of Floyd, Funkadelic, Bowie and a true conversation piece: Kraftwerk's "Autobahn".
"Wir fahr'n fahr'n fahr'n auf der Autobahn", indeed. Die Autobahn des Lebens.
Recent estate sales have been doing well for me -- I've come across a few gems. I discovered a local heavy psyche rock band called "Space Opera" on a whim -- the collection at the sale had some very nice progressive rock records and I liked the cover. That one, I'm keeping. In the mix was a white label German pressing promotional of Frank Zappa's Mothers of Inventions' Live at the Fillmore 1971. Again, that one I'm keeping. As I know from earlier this year, for whatever reason, people love their Fleetwood Mac and this particular collection had quite a few in very good condition. I'm waiting on one more record to sell to push me into the black on that particular find.
Ok, Fleetwood Mac. I've started to listen to YouTube videos of some of these albums just to get my head into my buyers' mindset. (This is also how I realized that the Space Opera album had found it's "forever home" in with my keepers.) I still don't get it. Like Steely Dan or early Genesis, it just doesn't do much for me. However, I can see why someone else might like them and I'll continue to pick them up when I find them.
This brings me to yesterday -- CraigsList advertises an estate sale in one of the outlying towns. What grabs my attention is that this was a collection of items from a family that had been "transplanted from the UK sometime in the early 70's" and I note in one of the corners of the pictures what looks like records.
My mind does the symbolic math: UK + 70's = Beatles, etc. Probably worth the trip. I might even find something I like!
The record collection isn't as big as I hoped. However, sure enough -- two Beatles albums, solo albums by McCartney & Lennon... normally not that big of a deal however they are the UK releases and therefore are worth a wee bit more. A few kids' albums... I found that DisneyLand records do eventually sell -- nothing sexy, but hey... it all adds up over time and ... well, see above about Kraftwerk on 8-track. :/
Another interesting find is The Who's "Live at Leeds" album. The jacket is a bit beat up, but the inserts at a quick glance look interesting and I decide to take the gamble. At home, I see that one of the inserts has to do with Woodstock. Thanks to Wikipedia, I've successfully ID'ed this album as the German first pressing -- one of 500 copies. I get that warm fuzzy feeling.
So I spend some time last night listing happily away. There are a few other small items of note, nothing serious (so I think). All in all, if everything goes, it was worth my time and I even got a strange 67-68 era print featuring a Yellow Submarine-style drawing of a turtle along with the poem "The Little Turtle" by Vachel Lindsay. Silly, I know... but hey. It's the little surprises that make this fun...
Around 1 AM, my phone chimes -- *kaching!* ... an item sold. Well, ok... probably one of the Beatles records or maybe even that Who album... I turn over.
My phone chirps again - buyer has paid. Ok, fine... I'm curious... what is it?
"Your eBay item sold! STRYPER - The Yellow And Black Attack LP"
...
whut.
I look at it again to be sure. Yup, the Stryper album that I picked up for a laugh. Stryper, one of those hair metal bands from the 80's from which I would run screaming, covering my ears in horror. Stryper... with bad guitar riffs, poor production and of course, the overtly Christian themes.
Out of all the records that I have up for auction, it's Stryper that sells within 6 hours of listing. I haz teh lulz.
Methinks someone else is funding their mid-life crisis of identity. Well, good for them.
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