lo-fi

Yesterday I bought a little silver transistor radio. It's small and cute and utilitarian. I figured I could listen to it at work while I perform my monkey-type skills on a project for the children's library. (Of note to you Vancouver readers: I perform on the mezzanine level from 9-1 today only. Best views on Levels 4 to 6.) Believe me, there's nothing to see.

Originally I was thinking of finally breaking down and buying an MP3 player of some sort, but then realised I haven't really invested any time into iTunes and so would have to load my computer up with CDs and that would take effort and I wasn't willing to do that. Then I thought a personal CD player would be a good idea, but then I have to choose CDs and put them in a case and transport all of it from home to work and back, and that seemed dangerous for the integrity of the CDs, all vulnerable outside their jewel cases. So I have a radio.

The reason I like the radio is because it has an enormous antenna that may or may not tip the radio over when it's standing upright. Makes me confident in the radio's potential clarity. I should also get fantastic reception because I'm, literally, less than 100 metres from the CBC building. Radio 2, here I come.

And I may never have to get an MP3 player because it's small enough to fit into my coat. So, when I start school in the fall, I can bust a move to the radio. I mean, it even has a jack for headphones. How dope would it be to ride the bus while listening to the radio? All conversations with me would resemble the following:
them - "Cool, a radio. Hey, what're you listening to?"
me - "Radio 1."
them - "Awesome. We should totally make-out right now."

Radio is hot.

Daily Confession No.1:
I was seriously considering going to Rick Springfield at the casino until my friend informed me he's heavy on the new material, lite on the good (thanks for the tip, MP). Go back and listen to "Working Class Dog" and try to convince me it wasn't rad. I called my sister and said that he was playing and she started laughing because her husband mentioned it just before I called. The alternative to paying $60 to see Rick Springfield is paying $60 to see Hall and Oates at the Centre. It is taking everything in me to not break into my savings account to buy a ticket to that one. Seriously. Why, just last night I squealed at my friend during controller.controller, "That's a line from 'Out of Touch'! You know, Hall and Oates?! C'mon! You know it. 'I'm out of my head when you're not around.' That's a total ripoff! COME ON!!!" Even though they're not looking so great (and Rick Springfield is still looking sooo goood), they are almost guaranteed to be all about their hits. They've been doing solo projects the last, what, 15 years or so, and are both into jazz and/or blues. I'm going to avoid Ticketmaster like the infested craphole it is. Maybe I'll look for an all-Hall-and-Oates all-the-time station on my radio. There must be one...

Currently listening :
Working Class Dog
By Rick Springfield
Release date: 25 October, 1990