Stephen Mejias

Jon Iverson remembers when Moscode amps came equipped with a diaper. "The instructions," he reminisces, "suggested the listener put it on before firing up the amp for the first time."

I'm not even sure what holiday it was that kept us out of the office yesterday, but I am thankful for it. We can call it Tweak Day.

For the last couple of days, I've been listening to one special CD from start to finish, and over and over again. I don't want it to ever end. Elizabeth must be sick of it. I'm sorry, Elizabeth. But, no: she's not sick of it because she understands. She knows what this is all about. And when I'm not listening to it, I'm holding onto it tightly, smiling over the lovely cover of sweethearts and peaches, reading the song titles from top to bottom and then from bottom to top. Memorizing the shade of red, imagining her hands putting it all together.

It must have been at Herald Square, where I was transferring onto the B, that I realized JA had left a message on my cell. I couldn't listen to the message below the ground — no service down there — but the display let me know that the call arrived at 7:58am. Why in the world would John be calling me at 7:58 in the morning? It was now almost 8:30. Shit: