Loading ...Vinyl And Hospitals
By Evan ~ January 10th, 2008. Filed under: daily life, world news.
On this date in 1949, the 45-rpm record was introduced by RCA. This followed the introduction of the 33-rpm disc in 1948 by Columbia. Ever since then, collector scum the world over have dreamed of owning classic 45s from the earliest days of rock music. One might even argue that this event signaled the death of the music industry, as 45s were perfect for two-song “singles” that were easily affordable for young music fans. I would never dare make this argument, because that would be so…blase. And I’m not the least bit jaded when it comes to the music industry. Nope, not me! But to ardent supporters of the full-length LP, the ensuing decades saw an exponential rise in the popularity of singles, perhaps serving to devalue the notion of an album. By the time singles (as well as LPs) had transformed from vinyl to cassette tapes to compact discs, the music being released had begun to stale. Then the single died. Experts believe this occurred somewhere around 1998, or whenever Limp Bizkit started putting out records. Nowadays, singles are about as popular as…oh, i don’t know…syphilis. Oh! And to make matters worse, full-length albums these days suck, too! In conclusion, the introduction of the 45-rpm record fifty-nine years ago today effectively ruined music. Thanks a lot, David Sarnoff!
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I hate hospitals. The first time I ever visited a patient in a hospital (that I remember), I was eight years old. Dolores, my family’s housekeeper/child-watcher was very sick. As my mother led me through the bowels of the building, my AIWA walkman was blasting “In Bloom.” We got to the room were Dolores was staying, and I remember immediately feeling like I shouldn’t have been there. It’s the same feeling I get whenever I’m at a hospital. I never visited a sick or dying relative growing up. I couldn’t bring myself to see them in such a sorry state, in such an uncomfortable setting.
I’ve made two trips to the hospital in the past eight months to visit ailing friends, and I still feel completely awkward and gross as I navigate the path from entrance to elevator, elevator to room, room to elevator, and elevator to exit. I try to walk with my head down, because whenever my eyes catch a bed-stricken body, my muscles seize and I feel like I’m going to collapse. Unfortunately, it seems like every time this happens, I end up looking at what I imagine to be the absolute worst patient in the entire hospital. It’s just my bad luck.
The first hospital visit was for Sari, and I accidentally walked into her room while they were performing a surgical procedure on her. I was holding two pizzas, and I instantly felt the urge to vomit. It passed, thankfully. Today I was visiting another friends, and the only thing that made this particular trip to the hospital entertaining occurred in the elevator as Phoebe and I were preparing to make our exit. Without hesitation, Phoebe asked the two other passengers if they were doctors. A young Indian man who couldn’t have been older than twenty-five answered yes. She then proceeded to ask if it was normal for a girl to become constipated during her period. I can’t even begin to describe the look on his face when she finished speaking. He got out of the elevator on the third floor and laughed while saying “Uh…” As the door closed, the middle-aged woman in the corner spoke up, telling Phoebe that she thought it was perfectly normal. It was the most random, hilarious conversation I’ve ever witnessed. It almost made being in the hospital a fun experience. Of course, thirty seconds before we got into the elevator I spied an old man laying on his side in bed, writhing in agony. That wasn’t too much fun.
