I had no idea at all. The first one, recommended to me by my primary care physician, wouldn't accept my insurance, but would be happy to give me a discounted rate of $40 for the first two sessions. Afterwards, we'd have to discuss and determine an amount that would be fair. Besides this small inconvenience, she would be away for the entire month of April. While she'd be willing to see me for at least one session before flying off to South America — "How does that sound to you?" — I'd be left alone immediately after.
JA, the industrious, is home today, working on his review of the Slim Devices Squeezebox, which will appear in our next eNewsletter. This makes me happy. Happy, not because JA, the boss, is home, but happy because he's working on his review of the Squeezebox. And, the Squeezebox, as we know, with all of its delicious features and its oh-so-sleek-and-simple lines that fit snugly in the tiniest of corners to broadcast your Editors and Jimmy Edgars and Pink Martinis and Sonic Youth-slash-Fugazis from your office to your kitchen to your bedside window ledge to your broom closet and back into your sweetly pitter-pattering music-loving heart,
Alan is very laid-back. I almost typed "laid-baked," which would be an equally appropriate description. It seems to me that this laid-backness, not to mention laid-bakedness, is a fine quality in a bass player.
1. My system, with the Moscode in it, seems to achieve greater soundstage width. In Ryan Adams' "Mockingbird," a tambourine rattles away far in the righthand corner of my room. It startles and impresses me every time.
On the streets today, people seem so smart and full of Spring. Though the temperature has dropped ten degrees from its high, the sun is still shining. It's 32 degrees and sunny in New York City.
Happy Friday, lovely. I'm sorry for missing you yesterday. I started on several different entries, actually, but none went where I wanted. Which isn't necessarily bad — entries often take unexpected turns — but these entries, in particular, simply seemed not right enough for this space.
While riding the F train this morning, I, for some reason, found myself face down on the Hawkins Street School asphalt. All over again, on this hot, summer, 5th grade afternoon: Jose Quiros pushed his weight down against my lower spine, clenched his angry hands around my 10-year old throat, and announced, clearly and confidently: "I'm going to kill you, I'm going to kill you, I'm going to kill you..."
While Buddha keeps asking me about hands, and Wonko wanted to know more about the glove, Christian had some more practical questions. First, he asked, "What are you running through the Moscode now? Are you still using the Arcam as your source, and are you running it through the Arros or the DeVores?"
Stephen Mejias
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