Stephen Mejias

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Stephen Mejias  |  May 10, 2006  |  4 comments
On June 14, 2004, I made a silly, little mistake.
Stephen Mejias  |  May 09, 2006  |  6 comments
Damn. Today it's 5:45pm and I'm just getting started. At least I'm not alone; Elizabeth is still here, worrying about page numbers and layouts so that JA can worry about other things.
Stephen Mejias  |  May 08, 2006  |  15 comments
It's a bit of a shame about the blog: I often don't get started on an entry until late in the day. For instance, I'm starting this entry at 5:23pm. At 5:23pm, most people are on their ways home, while I'm here, feeling like I'm just getting started. And I put a lot of effort into these words. It takes some time. Even the shitty entries take awhile. I hope this doesn't sound like a complaint. I'm not complaining. I actually enjoy these circumstances. I'm relaxing now. Tarkio's keeping me awake with banjos and bells, and, aside from the random e-mail, there are no more interruptions to keep me from writing, which is what I love most. I like this time. I like 5:23pm. I like my job. Which gets me to something else I wanted to mention, had I had the opportunity to simply mention it when it came to mind, rather than beating around the clock like this:
Stephen Mejias  |  May 05, 2006  |  3 comments
I've heard some of the guys — John Atkinson, Wes Phillips, Art Dudley — talk about a certain feeling. It's a strange kind of, mildly irrational, but altogether real, bit of sadness topped off with a touch of guilt and/or regret that sneaks up on the audio reviewer when the time comes to return a piece of gear to its manufacturer.
Stephen Mejias  |  May 04, 2006  |  0 comments
Almost like a real audio reviewer, tomorrow I'll be
Stephen Mejias  |  May 03, 2006  |  2 comments
Many of the commuters around me have the white plastic implants shoved into their innocent ears. All sorts of sounds come slithering out as we hold onto stainless steel. The F train sings a different song.
Stephen Mejias  |  May 02, 2006  |  2 comments
Over in the Music Room, I posted some additional thoughts on Neil Young's blaring and beautiful Living With War.
Stephen Mejias  |  May 01, 2006  |  4 comments
Here, in this entry, I'm looking for a way to casually and intelligently — and perhaps even humorously — mention sake–soaked wood cone speakers. Because sake–soaked wood cone speakers are weird. And interesting. And funny. And that kind of weird, interesting, funny stuff needs to be pointed at and teased, wondered upon and caressed. But I will fail at being clever about it, I will throw subtlety out the window, and I will just blurt it out at the start.
Stephen Mejias  |  Apr 28, 2006  |  0 comments
Here's a video for the Rye Coalition track "Young Yellers," off their new album Curses.
Stephen Mejias  |  Apr 28, 2006  |  0 comments
I just found this over at Donewaiting and want to share it with you. Let's listen together.
Stephen Mejias  |  Apr 28, 2006  |  3 comments
"You know, Mr. Stephen, I'll be coming to you for help with my new blog," Robert warns me.
Stephen Mejias  |  Apr 27, 2006  |  1 comments
Robert Baird's office is a record shop crowded by tall stacks of many–colored jewel cases and digipaks.
Stephen Mejias  |  Apr 27, 2006  |  1 comments
Smog's A River Ain't Too Much To Love rose again and again in the earliest days of this blog. It reminded me of Nebraska and it brought me back to San Francisco, and I am a rock bottom riser and I owe it all to you.
Stephen Mejias  |  Apr 26, 2006  |  0 comments
Some days just can't hold onto their hours. This day — Wednesday — has butterfingers. It feels as though only seconds ticked since I phoned Jon Iverson this morning. In fact, an entire day has gone by. People are walking out the door, saying "bye," without looking back. Meanwhile, I'd like to start from the beginning.
Stephen Mejias  |  Apr 25, 2006  |  2 comments
It's hard for me to believe that all of today's sunshine will soon be replaced by clouds and rain. Then again, there's no reason to trust in whimsical April. The forecast calls for the sky to fall at about 6pm EST. Right now, at 4:55pm EST, the tall, brick buildings outside my window are blanketed in golden warmth. I'm usually not so in touch with the weather's hourly report, but there's a special circumstance keeping me curious.