Confusion Becomes a Philosophy
<a href="http://www.lisawhiteman.com/">Lisa Whiteman</a> keeps a blog. I discovered it on May 12, 2003, and I have enjoyed it everyday since. How many days is that?
Stephen Mejias
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That Brennan Guy
I received a voicemail from Eileen on Friday night, which said something like: "You missed my phone call again, and I’m here with Sean and Omar and Allison and Justin and Lauren and Scott and Cheryn, and we’re all waiting for you, and you’re lame."
Missing My Friends, The Black Hollies, Playing Live at Maxwell’s Because I’d Rather Stay Home on a Friday Night and Listen to Smog and Listen to Diane Cluck and Listen to
I just want to sit here and be alone and think of her and drink Brooklyn Lager and listen to music and feel the cool new autumn wind blow through my open window—as soft and as right as her hand pressing mine—and forgive me, please friends, forgive me, but I’m tired and I’m happy and is there anything so wrong with that really?
Lacking Profundity
We’ve reached the end of the week.
Not Even a Vague Idea
I was 22 years old, and had no idea that high-end audio existed. No idea at all.
The Marriage of Process and Product
I was 22 years old, and had just made it back to New Jersey from a four-month trip traveling around the States aboard Amtrak trains.
Knowing
On this occasion, however, John had not come over to tell me to run. Rather, he had come to tell me where to go: “Good work, but I think you’ll have to steer more towards audio,” he suggested.
Running
Seriously: Will you show me around?
I'm New Here
The AZ9345 is on right now. And it sounds pretty damn good to me. I’m listening to Smog’s latest album, <i>A River Ain’t Too Much to Love</i>, and god, I love it. I love it. I don’t even know exactly what it is. I keep wondering, “What is it? What’s so great about this album?”
Some Might Call It a Den
Not how. I mean to say: I should tell you something about the circumstances surrounding my personal act of listening.