I am a music junkie. I often listen to rock and roll at eight o’clock in the morning, I turn on the stereo before I go to the bathroom when I arrive home, and despite vows to the contrary, I am forever falling asleep with the amplifier on. My apartment is dominated by phonograph albums, and every week I strain my triceps carrying 40 or 50 or more home from the post office. It would not be an overstatement to say that records are my life.