It would have been a very sad story. Having diligently packed the Ayre units and sent them off to lofty Boulder, I was left with empty space. I considered bringing the old Magnavox down from the closet. Luckily, I'd done a bad job of returning the Musical Fidelity A3.5 integrated amp and CD player. Reuniting them with the DeVore gibbon 3 loudspeakers was enlightening.
I was done with shopping. Inside my red cart: lamp and shade, extension cord and powerstrip, four soft white 60W light bulbs, two ice trays. I'd held strong against my urges to purchase a blender, whole wheat pasta, an oak filing cabinet, cotton underwear, a ceramic Japanese dragon, and a Pirates of the Caribbean DVD. However, on my way to the register, my attention was taken by an aisle of stereo components.
The PATH train arrives at its 33rd Street stop. The doors slide open. People slither out. Treading up the crowded platform, we are made to pass through stainless-steel turnstiles. I hate touching skin to steel, preferring to push the mechanism over with the forward motion of my legs. Almost as though the turnstiles aren't there.
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.