After my grandma passed, I inherited (read: took) her favorite boombox radio that had both a CD player and a cassette player installed. It's a Sony Xplod Boombox that she's had for, presumably, decades. Her favorite CD and cassette was still inside but I remember she used the boombox a lot to listen to the radio.

And by a lot, I mean that it was always on, 24/7. Tuned to the same Spanish channel that played Christian music. Even at night, I would wake up to use the bathroom and still hear it buzz away in the background.

Still, I didn't have any special attachment to this old thing before she passed. The main reason I took it was so my extended family couldn't take it and give it away. It was my grandmother's favorite, after all. It might not have been an heirloom passed down for generations but it was something she took care of since the moment she got it. That made it pretty special to me.

Though I didn't care to listen to the radio, I was very interested in the CD and cassette player component. I'd already been thinking about having a physical media collection. Specifically DVDs, but I didn't see why I couldn't also consider music. I'd long grown irritated by greedy streaming companies that increased subscription prices year by year, paying peanuts to the artists that make the service possible, and undercutting the value of human-made art by slipping in AI slop that no one asked for.

Is it more convenient to simply log into an app and have your pick from a seemingly limitless supply of music, movies and TV shows? Sure. But when companies continue to exploit the very people who make all of those things while spitting on the customers who pay for the service, it gets harder to equate the worth of convenience with that of the cruelty.

And besides, I want to always have access to my favorite media—not just when I have internet. I want to experience I Saw The TV Glow whenever I want, hold physical albums and and feel a sense of connection and ownership of something that is not merely digital and can be taken away the moment a license lapses. And problematic consumerism aside, collections are a reflection of who we are and what we value the most.

If I gave you my phone and let you scroll through a playlist of over 1,200 songs, you might have a general idea of the genres I like, but ultimately your eyes will glaze over and you'll hand my phone back.

But if I invited you into my room and showed you a collection of just 10-20 CDs and cassette tapes, that's a commitment. That's me showing you that I went through the trouble of tracking these "retro" items down and gave it it's own dedicated space within my apartment. A click of a button on an app is quick, easy and stress-free. Choosing to have something a little inconvenient means you value it enough to endure the trouble.

And that's really what it comes down to, right? That to truly love something is to be willing to be inconvenienced by it. And if you're like me and you rent an apartment and have to move frequently due to the difficult housing market, then having more stuff to move is certainly inconvenient.

To be honest, I didn't come to this conclusion all on my own. I hate the endless subscription services but I didn't see the true beauty of physical media until I stumbled upon The Guy She Was Interested In Wasn't A Guy At All (also known as the Green Yuri manga) and the webcomic Flying Saucer Video by Cam Marshall. While I ironically had came across both of these stories online, I could truly feel the love and passion that the characters had for music stores and video rental stores in the age of digital streaming.

These characters connected in a physical space and over a physical item. (Okay, technically the characters in the Green Yuri manga bonded over western rock music but it was still in a music store, so I'm counting it!) The characters created a community. What's more heartening than that?

So I went to a nearby music store that sells vinyls, CDs and cassette tapes. I asked the clerk if I could buy an empty CD case and cassette case. They said they didn't normally sell those but they were happy to slide me two used empty cases from their inventory. My grandma's favorite CD and cassette tape could now be placed in proper cases.

And then I perused their cassette section and bought my first tape.

Mitski's Be the Cowboy.

Oh hey, by the way, can I interest you in pre-ordering my next book? It's called YOU SHOULD'VE BEEN NICER TO MY MOM and it's a modern gothic about a young Dominican woman trying to get rid of a demon that's infiltrated her family!

Pre-orders show publishers that people want more stories like these (and that people want more stories BY me), so they'll be incentivized to keep publishing me! And I would ideally like to have enough money to live.

Ok thanks bye!