just next to the blues

'Have you got any soul?’ a woman asks the next afternoon. That depends, I feel like saying; some days yes, some days no. A few days ago I was right out; now I’ve got loads, too much, more than I can handle. I wish I could spread it a bit more evenly, I want to tell her, get a little balance, but I can’t seem to get it sorted. I can see she wouldn’t be interested in my internal stock control problems though, so I simply point to where I keep the soul I have, right by the exit, just next to the blues.

this excerpt is from nick hornby's high fidelity. it is greatly amusing, poignant, and genius all at once. The narrator here owns a record shop and is in the middle of woman initiated emotional turmoil, the kind men choose to shrug off and accept nonchalantly, or at least pretend too. Hence the remarkable ambiguity and duality of reference to soul. But I’m overstating. The thing about a paragraph like this is it speaks to you in your own mother tongue, it takes its own significance according to your baggage, your internal set-up, your history,or simply your fascination with words …