"You know what I want for Christmas, mom."
"I'm not asking you if you know; I'm telling you that you do know."
"What do you mean, 'What'?" You know, right?"
"How would I know?"
"Mom, you always know."
"Not this year, Stephen. This year I don't know. Tell me."
"I don't want to tell you. I want you to just know."
"Stephen, I'm telling you: I. Don't. Know."
"Yes, you do."
"Just tell me, boy."
"You're getting socks."
It's not that I'm suffering from writer's block or anything queer like that, it's just that there's a lot going on in the office and in life. The difficult thing for me, when it comes to writing, is making sense of all these little red and white ideas hanging down from the ceiling like origami birdies. I'd prefer to spend my entire day writing.
I don't know how this works I'm guessing it's just some sort of the usual, run-of-the-mill collective (un)conscious pinging internet magic but if you take a look at the bottom of any one of the pages on the Stereophile website, you'll find a list of "Sponsored Links," seemingly appropriate to the page itself.