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Location: Midwest, United States

"Power lines, my travlin' partner on this ride. Dripping, pulling - up and down, in this sing song, their lullaby blends with the swaying train. I curl myself into this journey; folding myself up into this pocket of time. Old familiars greet me - that swing set in the back yard, the ruins of an old church covered in new birth and old - mixed with unremembered newness." Journal Entry, October 13, 2005~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~All words are copyrighted by GoGo on a Page/gogoroku.

Sunday, February 05, 2006


It’s the middle of the night again. I’m working my overnight, procrastinating with these words. My tasky goals are to do my job so I have time to do some homework. Don’t pity me though, I spent too much time last night chatting.

Its snowing here! I’m very excited and will need to go hiking as soon as possible. Also, sledding.

That’s about it. No insights, deep thoughts, or funny moments. What’s going on in my life is mine to keep for now. Oh wait, I do have one thought...

I miss the turn table record player. Where the touch of needle to record was a delicate dance of the fingers and hand. Sure technology is great. Its so much easier to download your favorite 1000 songs into the Podded player, or your favorite 50 CDs into the stereo (do we still call them stereos)? The inconvenience is not what I am missing. Just that moment when the hand directed meets the vinyl and static pops greet you right before you here the music play. There is no place for it now. It is not needed. There is no relevance. What does the act give me anyway? However, I miss the dance all the same.

Please note, I do not miss scratched records, having to get out of bed to restart the music, or the inability to hide the oversized square from my Dad when I was stealing his Beatle records to listen to in my room.


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