Pure. Primal (?). Podcast.
I’m now addicted to podcasts. Got a slew of them I'm subscribed to, many from NPR or auxiliary sources, and they play constantly in my ears. Sometime they even get in the way to my listening to the latest album I’m supposed to review. At work, at the gym, in the car, wherever. I've learned, though, the best place to listen to them is Michigan, at our farmhouse, late at night. Then, Jodi Foster whispers secrets in my ear, "Summary Judgment" sounds even wittier, and Radio Lab achieves a clarity that Chicago – with its sounds and competing stimuli – refuses to divulge.
A front porch bordered by a foreboding blanket of black, along with complete silence (save an owl’s hoot from time to time, but other than that so silent the stars seem too loud) affords the sort of focus college freshmen, cramming for that first big biology exam, endlessly dream of.
It's bliss.
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