A Soft Friday Evening Whir
"Are your windows open?" sales manager Laura LoVecchio asked today.
"Are your windows open?" sales manager Laura LoVecchio asked today.
It's time to seal the brown boxes and send them back to the manufacturer. Tonight, I will be packing up the Ayre gear.
Today, the gentlest sunshine is replaced by relentless rain. The sound of great waves rising along rocky shores is replaced by jack hammers and angry street noise and other wasteful stupid, stupid shit.
Four Thursdays have powered up and cooled down since this year's Home Entertainment Show in Los Angeles, and I'm still reading the show reports. Beyond that, I'm enjoying them more and more. This is a good sign, I realize. I'm enjoying the reports more because they're making more sense to me. The language is becoming a part of me.
Sometimes, I feel as though I use a lot of words to say nothing at all.
<i><b>I'm Assuming You're All In Bands: Tris McCall in Brooklyn</i></b><br>
Jersey Beat Music
The fax machine is singing its song. Beep bloop beep bloop bleep beep beep. And bloop. It goes on and on. Kristina feeds the machine and the machine eats, requests for verification on pricing and availability of amps and speakers, tonearms and cartridges, accessories and racks and so much more. "Recommended Components" is singing its song. Swoosh and whir.
"Don't stay too late," JA says, on his way out of the office.
It's interesting: A small change can make such a big difference. I wake up, force myself out of bed, walk into my living room, and stop to admire the so-slightly-revised layout. So slight, the revision is, but I love it. It just seems right. It seems
As I mentioned yesterday, I had, for some time — long before acquiring a hi-fi, in fact — fought the idea of placing my couch against the rear wall of my living space. When I finally did, however, I found that things both looked and sounded different. And not only different, but: <i>better</i>. And I'm not confusing the two. So, what's up with this?