Stephen Mejias

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Stephen Mejias Posted: Nov 07, 2005 0 comments
As I was leaving Maxwell's last night, I ran into Melissa.
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Stephen Mejias Posted: Nov 07, 2005 3 comments
"I was at Maxwell's last night for no more than three hours, and it made me terribly sick."
"What’s Maxwell's?" JA asks.
"Oh," I say, "It's a rock and roll club in Jersey."
"Thank you for assuming that I'm hip."
I laugh. "I’ve become so allergic to cigarette smoke. I woke up this morning coughing blood, and I've got a horrible headache now."
"You must have some insect genes."
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Stephen Mejias Posted: Nov 04, 2005 11 comments
I heard music, and I liked it.
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Stephen Mejias Posted: Nov 03, 2005 2 comments
I met John DeVore at last year's Consumer Electronics Show. Wes Phillips directed me: "Have you been to the DeVore Fidelity room yet?"
"Nuh-uh," I shook my head.
"You should check it out. I think John'll have some stuff that'll interest you."
"Alright," I nodded.
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Stephen Mejias Posted: Nov 02, 2005 2 comments
This was going to be an Andy Warholish entry about how boring we can be at Stereophile. Elizabeth's idea, actually; not mine.
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Stephen Mejias Posted: Oct 31, 2005 5 comments
I was unusually happy, and now I’m sad.
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Stephen Mejias Posted: Oct 28, 2005 2 comments
If it’s not the Avian flu, it’s the maple syrup.
—Nina Myers, Esquire magazine
***
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Stephen Mejias Posted: Oct 27, 2005 4 comments
But it’s not the cats that are killing me. It’s the commute.
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Stephen Mejias Posted: Oct 26, 2005 5 comments
Music editor, Robert Baird, comes over and asks: "How’s it going, chief?"
The "chief" part I take as a compliment. This is a magazine publishing company we’re working for, after all.
"Not bad," I say, while handing him the new Silver Jews album I purchased last night: "Have you heard this yet? It’s pretty good."
"Oh yeah," he responds, "It’s great. Did you buy this?"
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Stephen Mejias Posted: Oct 25, 2005 3 comments
On our way home last night, at your request, we found shelter from the relentless rain near a bit of dancing fire. White candles melted into soft wings and waves and fingertips, beckoning us closer. We sat at the fun table beneath so many beaded chandeliers, and ordered the best drinks in all of Manhattan—pineapple coconut mojitos and razzle dazzles—which were far too strong, but perfect, nontheless. The older woman in the strange hat offered us one of her piggyback dates—stuffed with almonds and wrapped in bacon, sprinkled with Cabrales bleu cheese—but we, of course, declined, and decided instead to order some of our own.

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