Saturday, June 05, 2010

Phone home.

Every time I receive a phone call while at home, the callers inevitably say the same things.
First, a question — "Where are you?" — followed by a statement — "It sounds like you're at a concert!" It's true, too. When you don't own a television set (I don't) and you rely on the kindness of neighbors to sometimes share the Internet, you're drawn towards, what's that? Playing music to fill up that empty space. And, yes, it does sound like there's some sort of performance going down in here a lot of the time, something I tend to enjoy. It's not even all that loud, I promise. Everything just tends to bounce off that concrete ceiling and semi-wooden flooring in just the right way and it all goes down real nice.

Right now, the bossa nova is on. In the absence of a jacuzzi in this place (that'd make it completely and impossibly perfect), this is what will calm and buoy up and turn this Saturday night into a quietly tropical soiree.

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