Stephen Mejias

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Stephen Mejias  |  Jun 26, 2008  |  2 comments
Ah! And it looks like I have another reason to revisit Florida: Rock 'n' Roll Heaven.
Stephen Mejias  |  Jun 24, 2010  |  5 comments
Since the transformation of my living room into a listening room, my record collection has been a woeful, helpless mess. Albums are grouped together more by my fleeting mood or by date of purchase than by anything usefully intelligible, or at all resembling order, such as genre or artist name. If, on some strange and rainy Saturday, I happened to have listened to albums by Mal Waldron, Crazy Horse, and Beach House, these albums will be found shelved together.
Stephen Mejias  |  Jun 11, 2010  |  7 comments
I’m on the N train heading to Manhattan from Bay Ridge and there’s a fat Mexican baby in a dull red stroller. She is screaming her heart out. I’m trying to read an article in New York magazine recommended to me by a co-worker, but I don’t think I’ll make it to the end. I’ve read enough about addiction to know how ugly it can be; I don’t want to live through it again.
Stephen Mejias  |  Nov 13, 2007  |  1 comments
I just got off the phone with Henry Fiol. Though his singing voice ranges from ethereal to ferocious, his speaking voice is that of the common man—a City accent, a casual flow, the blurring of sounds the dropping of syllables a friendly slang. He sounds like a relative, one of my father's cousins. He sounds like family.
Stephen Mejias  |  Apr 03, 2006  |  4 comments
Bottom of the 2nd, no score. Tom Glavine better gain some control. The walks are going to hurt.
Stephen Mejias  |  Oct 06, 2011  |  10 comments
Several weeks ago, a dear friend reminded me of the Commencement address delivered by Steve Jobs on June 12, 2005, at Stanford University. The entire speech heaves with wisdom, hope, and love, and I tend to come back to it every now and then, just as I do Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass—for comfort, compassion, direction, perspective. I meant to write something about it then, but things got in the way.

Here’s a pertinent excerpt:

Remembering that I’ll be dead soon is the most important tool I’ve ever encountered to help me make the big choices in life. Because almost everything—all external expectations, all pride, all fear of embarrassment or failure—these things just fall away in the face of death, leaving only what is truly important. Remembering that you are going to die is the best way I know to avoid the trap of thinking you have something to lose. You are already naked. There is no reason not to follow your heart.

And here’s an image of Jobs at home in 1982.

Photo: Diana Walker.

“This was a very typical time. I was single. All you needed was a cup of tea, a light, and your stereo, you know, and that’s what I had.”—Steve Jobs

I'm reminded to live simply, full of love.

Stephen Mejias  |  Jan 06, 2006  |  1 comments
I don't enjoy feeling like an ignoranus, but that's exactly how I feel after spending a day at the Convention Center during CES. The word "hate" keeps coming to mind. As in: "I hate it." But I don't think I really hate it. As I told JI, during one of my many pouts, I'm sure the experience is good for something. I just don't know what it's good for.
Stephen Mejias  |  Feb 12, 2014  |  5 comments
Instagram is the first app I check each day. What does that say about me? I certainly like pictures. I also enjoy keeping up with friends and family through images, seeing what they see each day, glimpsing a day in their lives. But, beyond that, I’m not sure.

Interestingly, more and more audio manufacturers are showing up on Instagram. I follow several, including:

Stephen Mejias  |  Oct 12, 2007  |  3 comments
It started as a joke. I told my uncle, also a huge Mets fan, that if the Mets didn't make it to the playoffs, I'd get rid of my television. What would I need a television for anyway? All I ever watch are Mets games, and I can get my news from the internet or the radio. The idea became more attractive as I thought of how much easier it would be to swap audio components without an enormous, old 27" Sharp television set getting in the way. I might even be able to hock the television for a sweet pair of bongos, or something similarly musical and pretty. They've got some nice rhythm sticks over there at Jemma Loan on Newark Avenue. A trumpet? A few harmonicas? Who knows? Plus, without the easy distraction of television, I'd inevitably read and write more, listen to more music, maybe even exercise a bit. All good things.