Pedestals. I mean: Speaker Stands.

"John says you need to stop putting women on pedestals."
"Oh yeah?"

I nod. I'm not sure I like where this conversation's going.

"And I think he's got a point."

I'm trying not to pay attention.

Elizabeth grabs her Sharpie and slashes invisible blue marks in the air, highlighting the words as they leave her mouth:

I (slash) think (slash) he's (slash slash) got (slash) a (slash) POINT (slash slash slash!).

"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah. Because you know what happens when you put a woman on a pedestal?"
"She becomes afraid of falling off."
"Women are just people, too."

Suddenly, without warning: a rush of synthesized warmth — warbling, cascading, blanketing over our white desk. It's rushing all across our mess of bluelines and maps and boards as we work on shipping the January issue. It's coming from my small, awful computer speakers, and it catches us completely off-guard. Music doesn't usually sound this good coming from these speakers.

Elizabeth and I raise our heads simultaneously and exchange a look.

"Like a message from god," she says.
"Always strange when music actually sounds good coming from these speakers. Makes you wonder what's up."
"What is this?"
"dios (malos)," I say. "Ward recommended it to me."
"dios (malos)," she repeats. "Is that the band or the song?"
"The band. The song is called 'You Make Me Feel Uncomfortable.'"
"Whoa, right up your alley."

Elizabeth and I raise our heads simultaneously and exchange a look.

"Ha. Yeah, I like it."
"It's catchy, and poppy, but it's got some interesting..."

Elizabeth pauses, searches for the right word. And finds it: "Depth."

The song comes to an end just as Elizabeth gets up from our desk to retrieve a revised page from the printer. As she inserts the page into its proper place among the large stack of others — a growing bundle of loose black and white printouts destined to become our January issue — she hums a bit of the song.

Those six strings on my guitar
Are like the ones attached to me
You're just pulling way too hard
You're slowly breaking me

"See: it's catchy," she says. "It's already in my head."

She grabs her blue Sharpie and slashes a check mark on the map, indicating the page is finalized and ready to go.

Wes Phillips's picture

Maybe it's because I'm from the South, but I always thouhjt we guys put women up on pedastals so we could peek up their skirts.

Ward's picture

Glad you like it. Pitchfork gave it a not so kind review today, but hey, it happens. Check out their debut sometime (released under the name Dios) to comapre and contrast. Reminds me of the difference between the first and second Shins albums (if that means anything to you). As for putting women up on pedestals? I just don't know. Thanks for the shout out.