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I mean, I know where I am. Now, I’m at my other home: the offices of Primedia’s Home Technology Group at 261 Madison Avenue, sitting on the other other side of a low wall separating the desk that I share with Elizabeth, Stereophile’s managing editor, my friend and colleague.

You can see by the comment she left me that she began reading this blog backwards, from the top down. You’ll notice, if you haven’t already, that the earliest entries appear at the bottom of the page. I’m aware of the fact that this might prove confusing for some, as…

“I know,” I answered.

I feel very lucky to be working with and for John Atkinson. He has a special, quiet, and simple way of motivating, a special, quiet, and simple way of making you want to run.

And I hate running. Running, to me, has always meant trouble: I was late for school, or being chased, or running away from my father’s drunken screams and heavy hands.

“Did…

Actually, the train-riding part of the trip only lasted a month. It was during the middle of November. If it hadn’t been for that hostel-slash-homeless shelter-slash-psychiatric ward I stayed at in Chicago, things might’ve been different. I might’ve gone all the way out to California. But that cold hostel broke my spirit, and I could go no further west. Instead, I traveled straight down the mighty Mississippi to New Orleans&#151poor, sweet…

As a child, I knew&#151or I should say: I had the vague idea&#151that, as you got older, your speakers got bigger. A stereo was something you paid a good amount of money for and showed off to your house guests.

I remember my father’s brother bragging about the new Aiwa stereo system he had recently purchased. It was bigger than my father’s.

Soon, my father went out and bought a Kenwood. It was bigger than the Emerson we had before, and even a little bit bigger than my…

Presently, I’m feeling overwhelmed by the possibilities. And I’m going to try to get around to them all. I have to remind myself that we have time for this thing to grow. It’s kind of like a marriage. We’ve got a lifetime. Maybe. I think some readers are already screaming for a divorce. You can keep the McMansion in Boca, DBailey; I’m taking the kids and the hi-fi.

I just received an e-mail from Todd. In it, he said: "If I had to do one of these everyday, I’d die."

Yes, I’m sure that I will die someday, brother, but not…

It’s not that I don’t like all my married friends. These days, it’s hard to get me out on a Friday night; I’m so, so tired from the week and there’s usually nothing I want more than to just sit down. Not only that, but I’ve discovered that I have very little interest in going to the types of rock shows that I found so necessary all…

Lisa is certainly one of my favorite writers of all time&#151perhaps my very favorite&#151right up there with Walt Whitman, Ernest Hemingway, and Art Dudley.

In a recent e-mail, Lisa asked if I’d heard the band Clap Your Hands Say Yeah.
"I’ve been trying not to," I responded, "but it’s getting kind of hard."

I have something against bands with long, action verb names. There’s a thing going around, it seems, these days.…

She is listening to music&#151Magnolia Electric Company, maybe&#151and trying to teach her kitten not to scratch her while she sleeps.

We again met randomly. We do this at least five or so times a month. We make no appointments, but I see her more often than I see many of my closest friends. This time, it was as we were crossing Sixth Avenue at 14th Street. I was on my way into the PATH station, Melissa was on her way into Urban Outfitters.

When you run into a beautiful girl, follow her.
That…

I am almost always conscious of my hands. They are finding comfort by gripping something or they are holding on to themselves or they are simply hiding. At times throughout the day, I’ll firmly squeeze each of my fingertips, slowly, one by one, starting from the thumb and ending with the pinky. Is this odd? But I like the way it feels. It quiets me.

…