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.
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.
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: better. And I'm not confusing the two. So, what's up with this?
I tried, so many times, to write a little something about the Stereophile pepper and golf-coins, but could never get the ideas to grow, could never get them to drop in the hole. See here how Kristina handles it, while kindly declining our CD case (and CDs, in general).
Kelli's never been too happy with my orange Ikea couch. After all, she has her opinions on what a couch should be. First and foremost, obviously, a couch should be comfortable. Aiding in the comfort of a couch, Kelli tells me, are things like arms and backrests and cushions made of soft fabric. All of these things work together to provide a soothing place for resting one's head and supporting one's legs after a long, tiring day in the office. My couch, however, lacks these things. To a certain degree, I'm proud of my couch for maintaining its individuality its unwillingness to conform to society's standards of what a couch should offer and be. My couch is a rebel.
Initially, I thought it'd be a good idea for Kristina to create a weekly blog entry, to be posted each Friday. Kristina, however, has already written two entries, too good to be held onto. And, I think to myself: "Why hold her back?"