The Pearl River
The view outside my window. "What river is that?" I asked Ping Gong.
The view outside my window. "What river is that?" I asked Ping Gong.
Somehow the gods of travel, who usually enjoy watching me suffer, had one of their rare bouts of whimsey and decided to ruin <I>future</I> journeys by upgrading me to first class.
Mistress Bagheera don't want no human cooties, oh no.
Nothing to look at here, says Huckleberry.
Lots of goodies here worth investigating.
If you were to do a Google image search on my work at <i>Stereophile</i>, you'd see that, basically, my days are simply filled with reading, writing, coordinating, and planning. No two consecutive days, however, are the same.
I'm leaving for China in about 10 minutes, so blogging will be even more erratic than usual—I foolishly almost said "normal," but it has never been <I>that</I>.
Actually, it's a fascinating article about Chinese sports fandom. Interesting country—I really should go there sometime.
This product would be creepy enough with just one vibro-pod, but with <I>two</I>, it just makes my skin crawl. No, I do not want to share you iPod sex toy.
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