Stephen Mejias

Blood Work

Signs of sickness, with a scent like ennui, all over the apartment: dirtied tissues tossed to the floor, the many jilted cups of tea, unfinished this, unwashed that, empty cans of soup, the pale and quiet Moscode.

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Sick

I'm sick. About as sick as I've ever been. Come to think of it, I haven't really been well since I came down with the flu at CES. I've been fighting something ever since. And today, it knocked me out. Fever, chills, pain all throughout my body, an excruciating headache.

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Imposter

Today I received an e-mail from one of my favorite hi-fi sales managers. These are the guys who help me collect pricing and dealer data, images to accompany our reviews, and other behind-the-scenes stuff.

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How to Do Things

I had no idea at all. The first one, recommended to me by my primary care physician, wouldn't accept my insurance, but would be happy to give me a discounted rate of $40 for the first two sessions. Afterwards, we'd have to discuss and determine an amount that would be fair. Besides this small inconvenience, she would be away for the entire month of April. While she'd be willing to see me for at least one session before flying off to South America — "How does that sound to you?" — I'd be left alone immediately after.

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Built for Audiophiles

JA, the industrious, is home today, working on his review of the <a href="http://www.slimdevices.com/index.html">Slim Devices Squeezebox</a>, which will appear in our next <a href="http://www.stereophile.com/enewsletters/">eNewsletter</a&gt;. This makes me happy. Happy, not because JA, the boss, is home, but happy because he's working on his review of the Squeezebox. And, the Squeezebox, <a href="http://forums.slimdevices.com/showthread.php?t=21628">as we know</a>, with all of its delicious features and its oh-so-sleek-and-simple lines that fit snugly in the tiniest of corners to broadcast your Editors and Jimmy Edgars and Pink Martinis and Sonic Youth-slash-Fugazis from your office to your kitchen to your bedside window ledge to your broom closet and back into your sweetly pitter-pattering music-loving heart,

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