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?"
Robert has asked me to review the new Sonic Youth album, Rather Ripped. You'd think I'd be thrilled about this. I would be, normally. But, so far, I find the new Sonic Youth album to be disappointing, an underachievement. Having to review the new Sonic Youth album is beginning to stress me out. Thus: this, therapy.
Remember when we first met standing at the bar, admiring the jukebox's warm glow? How I somehow got around to telling you about that $90,000 turntable? It almost seems silly now. The small talk of first meetings often does, I suppose, seem silly. But not ours. Nothing "silly" about it. And nothing small. I don't know what made me think I should mention it this silly turntable but, a day later, you'd call and leave a message saying you'd like to hear more. "Fascinating," was the word you used.