Stephen Mejias

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Stephen Mejias  |  Nov 07, 2005  |  3 comments
A few days ago, I removed my Nintendo Entertainment System — the one I've owned since I was a young boy — from my Walmart television stand — the one I've owned for five years — and placed it on my Target bookcase. I then unplugged the Sony DVD player, wrapped up its wires, and placed it in my bedroom closet.
Stephen Mejias  |  Nov 07, 2005  |  2 comments
Waiting for our food to arrive, the four of us sat at the wooden table, two to a side: Boy, girl, boy, boy.
Stephen Mejias  |  Nov 07, 2005  |  0 comments
As I was leaving Maxwell's last night, I ran into Melissa.
Stephen Mejias  |  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."
Stephen Mejias  |  Nov 04, 2005  |  11 comments
I heard music, and I liked it.
Stephen Mejias  |  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.
Stephen Mejias  |  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.
Stephen Mejias  |  Oct 31, 2005  |  5 comments
I was unusually happy, and now I’m sad.
Stephen Mejias  |  Oct 28, 2005  |  2 comments
If it’s not the Avian flu, it’s the maple syrup.
—Nina Myers, Esquire magazine
***
Stephen Mejias  |  Oct 27, 2005  |  4 comments
But it’s not the cats that are killing me. It’s the commute.
Stephen Mejias  |  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?"
Stephen Mejias  |  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.
Stephen Mejias  |  Oct 24, 2005  |  0 comments
Wes sends his "Hola!" from Barcelona:
Stephen Mejias  |  Oct 22, 2005  |  5 comments
So, I arrived at home (I mean, at Wes') one night, and decided to take John DeVore's advice about popping a CD into the hi-fi as simple background noise. My plan was to listen to Smog's A River Ain't Too Much to Love while feeding the cats in the kitchen.
Stephen Mejias  |  Oct 21, 2005  |  6 comments
I was in bed for what felt like five minutes (it was actually five hours) when the little alarm clock let loose its hybrid buzz-chirp: 7am, time to wake up. I stumbled into the bathroom, my mind filled with thoughts of the previous night at Maxwell’s. The fluorescent white light above the cracked mirror blinked on and off for a couple of moments before steadying itself, reminding me of the camera bulbs that flashed while we were on stage. I heard myself think: “We’ll never play a bad show again. That’s all behind us now.”

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