June 16, 2003

My assiduity somehow dropped during the last weeks. I actually got the missing bit of my home theater : a Marantz SR-4300 AV-Receiver.

First of all, I had to say it : this has an actually killer sound. But hey, I wasn't expecting less from Marantz.

Of course, Marantz is neither Albary, nor NAD, nor even ROTEL but it's still very musical.

For the first time of my life, I have connected a music amp to a subwoofer ; this is then not hifi anymore : hifi is high fidelity. Using a subwoofer indeed alter the original sound of the playing medium. This then takes the listener far from where the music sound engineer expected him to go.

For this reason, I have to admit this setup, however really astounding is not suited for the hardcore acoustic listener (a.k.a. the "audiophile").

Now, if you take some modern sounding music, some highly bass boosted electronic pop, you'll feel a slightly enhanced experience : the kick doesn't only give a pulse, it actually digs inside of you, it has the telluric effect of re-shaping your mind. You are not inside the music, your resonates along with the music... You become part of the music.

But well, by giving such pareosophical considerations, I just omit the reason why this device was built : enhancing the video experience.

So, take whichever movie you enjoy.

Consider a specific scene, for exemple, you may think about the moment the helicopter explodes, in "The Matrix".

This vehicle no more emits some tiny flaps in your TV, it... well... it is here.

You may ask my neighbours about the helicopter which he believes was flying through my living room.

It's like anything innovative : I just wonder how I could live without that appliance.

Hi everybody! I hope you are all doing good! .I haven't written anything lately because I have been really busy at school. It's over now and next year I'll be in the third grade. I hope it will be as much fun as second grade was!

I had a really good weekend with my dad and my friends. Did you ever have one of those days that you wish you could live over and over again? Not because you did something wrong but because it made you so happy? That's how yesterday was.

I played a lot with my friend Gracie and her pet rabbit. We also started a dog walking business and got to walk most of the neighborhood dogs. We are donating any money that we make from doing that to the animal shelter. Then me made homemade lemonade from fresh lemons and sold it to some of our other neighbors and people just walking by. It was fun! My dad had some of his friends over and we had a barbecue. His friends are nice but all they wanted to do was watch golf. Boring!

Gracie and me went up to my room to write poems. Here is one I wrote while I was looking at my window. I hope you like it!

Untitled

The moon flys by
With the birds soaring high
I don't want to waste this moment

In the day I shape the clouds
And paint the sky of pure
But I'm here to face the truth

To turn my face around
And to put my feet on the ground
But I close my eyes
And start my imagination

That's because my imagination is with
The moon flying by
And the birds soaring high
And I don't want to waste this moment

Now it's time to go

I have some more that poems that I'm working on and I hope I can finish them soon. I really hope you like them. Bye!

There is nothing freakier than showing up at work 30 minutes late and discovering that there's no one here.

I work with three other people in a large room. It looks like two of them haven't surfaced and the third was here - her copy of the Times is still (metaphorically) warm but she's nowhere to be found. Even my supervisor, the queen of the closed-door policy, has disappeared - there's no light coming from under her door.

So I'm sitting here, thinking: they had to pick today to change buildings, didn't they? For god's sake, why doesn't anybody tell me anything? OK, I was late; I am deeply, tragically sorry, but at least you could've left me a friggin' note without going all twilight zone on me.

I feel like a little kid forgotten at a theme park, except in this case the park is the world's lonliest, coldest, and emptiest. It has also metamorphosed into a warehouse.

Whimper.

When I was younger, maybe in like, 8th, 9th, 10th grade, somewhere around there, my dad and I would play basketball in our driveway. We would play some one-on-one, and I would never win, then we would play HORSE, he was a great shot. After each made shot, we would wipe our shoe across the gravel and mark where the other person had to shoot from. Invariably, for the last shot to finish me off, my dad would step out much farther than I could even hurl the ball towards the basket and I would say to him, "IMPOSSIBLE!" and he would scrape his foot across the gravel in front of his toes, square up, and look at me and proclaim, "Never say 'impossible'" ... ... *swoosh*

A writing-through of the eighth chapter of Ulysses.

                                     Bad for their tummies. 
                              If you leave a bit of codfish 
         Brewery barge with export stout 
                       Snug little room that was with the red wallpaper 
                      Wait. The full moon was the night we were 
                         at the tables calling for more bread no charge 
    Nice quiet bar. Nice piece of wood in that counter. 
             like a tanner lunch we have, boiled mutton, carrots and turnips 
                    Where did I? Ah, yes. Trousers. Potato. Purse. Where?