it was purchased in 1997. it was ovular and charcoal-grey, with a single CD player and single tape player and nothing in the way of features beyond Repeat. it was the size of a fat baby and featherlight.
i was in college then, and it replaced a large three-disc-changer separated-speakers system which one day locked shut and refused to spit out the ska discs ossified inside its drawer. maybe it was protecting me, but for its troubles it was discarded. the little ovular boombox performed admirably, soundtracking many a night of decadence in my room and frequently moving to our outdoor porch or kitchen to soundtrack larger-scale decadence. i protected it from harm, refusing to allow my roommates to play alanis morrisette on it, and fed it on a fine diet of mostly they might be giants.
i moved to philly in 1999 and it came with me. although little, it was the best any of us had, and so its quotidian journey up and downstairs put many miles on it. many times it was angrily shut off because of the "horrible" metal or punk it filled the kitchen with on my night to cook, and as a compromise, the little boombox had to deal with indigo girls from time to time. but it survived.
back in boston, the little boombox sat on a black wire table and suffered a bruise when it was kicked over during what would turn out to be the final fight my girlfriend and i would ever have. to date she is my longest relationship on record, yet she is all but forgotten now. while the little boombox is not.
years passed and the ovular stereoette found itself a competitor. a friend moving to california sold me the contents of his living room for $50, which included an extremely nice multi-disc big-speaker setup. the little boombox still functioned cheerily, though, providing the tunes downstairs while we played pingpong, outside while we barbecued, and in the bathroom while we showered. when we went camping, as a reward, i mandated the little boombox be left home, and another one was brought. it was struck by lightning and destroyed, burning my leg, and i was glad it was a less personal boombox.
camping again, and the reserve boombox destroyed, the little ovular one was enlisted. gamely it played johnny cash, the notwist, the flaming lips, a mix toby made called "mellow pretty shit"...finally it tackled goatschool's grind mix.
like a pro. it played loudly enough that the skynyrd-listening non-ironic-mesh-hatters across the way glared. it went strong through all 30+ tracks. the last notes of the last track were sounding when it shut off.
i toyed with it. tried a new CD. the batteries were fresh. it could not play. the little boombox had played its last, slain by a mixture of Abscess and Gore Beyond Necropsy.
it received no honorable burial, no twenty-one gun salute. its final resting place was a dumpster behind a winnebago. nobody looked back as we recessed.
R.I.P., little boombox.
i was in college then, and it replaced a large three-disc-changer separated-speakers system which one day locked shut and refused to spit out the ska discs ossified inside its drawer. maybe it was protecting me, but for its troubles it was discarded. the little ovular boombox performed admirably, soundtracking many a night of decadence in my room and frequently moving to our outdoor porch or kitchen to soundtrack larger-scale decadence. i protected it from harm, refusing to allow my roommates to play alanis morrisette on it, and fed it on a fine diet of mostly they might be giants.
i moved to philly in 1999 and it came with me. although little, it was the best any of us had, and so its quotidian journey up and downstairs put many miles on it. many times it was angrily shut off because of the "horrible" metal or punk it filled the kitchen with on my night to cook, and as a compromise, the little boombox had to deal with indigo girls from time to time. but it survived.
back in boston, the little boombox sat on a black wire table and suffered a bruise when it was kicked over during what would turn out to be the final fight my girlfriend and i would ever have. to date she is my longest relationship on record, yet she is all but forgotten now. while the little boombox is not.
years passed and the ovular stereoette found itself a competitor. a friend moving to california sold me the contents of his living room for $50, which included an extremely nice multi-disc big-speaker setup. the little boombox still functioned cheerily, though, providing the tunes downstairs while we played pingpong, outside while we barbecued, and in the bathroom while we showered. when we went camping, as a reward, i mandated the little boombox be left home, and another one was brought. it was struck by lightning and destroyed, burning my leg, and i was glad it was a less personal boombox.
camping again, and the reserve boombox destroyed, the little ovular one was enlisted. gamely it played johnny cash, the notwist, the flaming lips, a mix toby made called "mellow pretty shit"...finally it tackled goatschool's grind mix.
like a pro. it played loudly enough that the skynyrd-listening non-ironic-mesh-hatters across the way glared. it went strong through all 30+ tracks. the last notes of the last track were sounding when it shut off.
i toyed with it. tried a new CD. the batteries were fresh. it could not play. the little boombox had played its last, slain by a mixture of Abscess and Gore Beyond Necropsy.
it received no honorable burial, no twenty-one gun salute. its final resting place was a dumpster behind a winnebago. nobody looked back as we recessed.
R.I.P., little boombox.
