Item: 1 JVC PC-X290 CD Portable Component System
I got this stereo last year, since my old CD player had been refusing to play CDs for awhile. I chose this one specifically because it was square, and most of the other ones seemed to be aerodynamically-designed, like minivans. I wanted a boombox because I like being able to pick the music up and carry it around. This one, however, ended up being a little bigger than I anticipated, with the result that it doesn't quite fit anywhere I want it to fit. Currently it's just sitting in a corner.
The corner is on the one wall that's common to me and the apartment next door, and I haven't gotten a sense of how much sound carries here, so I'm cautious about how high I turn up the volume. Last night, I could hear somebody playing the Pink Panther theme and some other similar-sounding music, but I didn't mind that compared to the detonating-of-explosives sound effects that always came from next door in my old place.
At first I thought these sounds came from a war movie that the guy was watching over and over and over, but I finally determined that it must be a video game - hence the constant shooting. Anyway, having a person in the next apartment is something one gets accustomed to as an urban dweller. This can be more or less intrusive depending on what the sounds are, but the presence of a person close by can also have reassuring effects at times, even if the person is somebody you don't know, or want to.
I wrote a story once about a character who lived in an apartment building where there were always war-movie sounds coming from next door, which was a key part of the atmosphere of the story. It's happened more than once, actually, that something that I wrote about in a story ends up later happening to me. It can be gratifying, and somewhat surprising, to find out that the way I had described the experience did correspond to how it actually felt. It's also, though, what you might call trippy, as if I somehow knew, or as if I triggered something by writing about it. If I thought this was something I could cause at will, think of the fun I could have.
The corner is on the one wall that's common to me and the apartment next door, and I haven't gotten a sense of how much sound carries here, so I'm cautious about how high I turn up the volume. Last night, I could hear somebody playing the Pink Panther theme and some other similar-sounding music, but I didn't mind that compared to the detonating-of-explosives sound effects that always came from next door in my old place.
At first I thought these sounds came from a war movie that the guy was watching over and over and over, but I finally determined that it must be a video game - hence the constant shooting. Anyway, having a person in the next apartment is something one gets accustomed to as an urban dweller. This can be more or less intrusive depending on what the sounds are, but the presence of a person close by can also have reassuring effects at times, even if the person is somebody you don't know, or want to.
I wrote a story once about a character who lived in an apartment building where there were always war-movie sounds coming from next door, which was a key part of the atmosphere of the story. It's happened more than once, actually, that something that I wrote about in a story ends up later happening to me. It can be gratifying, and somewhat surprising, to find out that the way I had described the experience did correspond to how it actually felt. It's also, though, what you might call trippy, as if I somehow knew, or as if I triggered something by writing about it. If I thought this was something I could cause at will, think of the fun I could have.
posted by Karen at 6:16 PM
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