As Your Attorney, I Advise You To Read This

Yes, it’s a ‘Fear and Loathing’ reference. So’s this. Captain Zeep returns from obscurity and offers this gem:

Ya know what the coolest thing is about playing vinyl records again? It’s the ‘ritual’. Yes, the ‘ritual’ that I’ve missed. There’s no ‘ritual’ with a CD…you shove it in and hit ‘play’. The record, on the other hand, has a distinct ‘ritual’. It’s the eye-squinting search through the thin, narrow jacket-sleeve edges with their sideways, faded titles to select a record….then the careful handling of the record as it’s removed from it’s sleeve…and then the Side One or Side Two? dilemma, before placing the disc on the platter and beginning the cleaning phase of the ritual…discwasher in hand, a few drops of fluid, rubbing the fluid into the brush with the butt of the bottle, carefully rotating the brush from toe to heel while the disc rotates…then the careful lowering of the tonearm til the satisfying, gentle, ‘ka-Thump’ of the stylus entering that long, continuous groove is heard.

No one records collections of songs in 20 minute blocks as an artful expression anymore. It’s more like 70 minutes of unthoughtful drivel. Gone is the beauty and artful expression of selecting two blocks of songs with a purposeful flow from outer to inner groove.

I love my records. I’m so glad I found them again.
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How often do you read email and say, “Ahhhhhh, beautiful”? Today, it was twice for me, since Audrey couldn’t bear to watch snow fall though window screens:

I went out with the poets and some real live fiction writers last night…lots of laughter and whiskey and good music. the snow was relentless. Just relentless. I couldn’t bear not to be out there, appreciating its sheer effort. I waited I don’t even know how long for a subway, but I had my new iPod and copies of my poems with nice things written on them. I emerged at 2 am. it was still going. when I woke up this morning, I wanted nothing more than to get outside immediately. and an egg & cheese on an everything bagel. my first thought as I hit the sidewalk was “I’d like to bean someone with a snowball right now.” it would be wonderful if random, benevolent acts of snow violence broke out as people make their way to work. I am going to spend the rest of the morning trying to describe what the trees look like, crossing their tops over the road, piled with white.
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It’s March, right? When I get little gifts like these I say, “Merry Christmas to *me*!”