Anyway, what I wanted to say is this — Part-Time Audiophile isn’t going anywhere just yet. No one has offered me piles and piles of cash and incentives to yank all my content under their umbrella, so here it sits, loud and proud, a vortex of spinning sound-bytes greedily sucking at the … hmm. I think that might be a good place to edit in a break. Ahem.
SO — as I was saying — this site will continue on, even as I contribute to The Absolute Sound and whatever/wherever. I like working on this site, and as long as it’s fun, I’ll keep doing it. I mean, if someone did want to buy it, I’d have to consider it … I’m not getting any younger (I should never have wasted that money on that damn painting), the twins will eventually need to go to college … and mama needs a new pair of shoes … come on, seven! Seriously though, I just don’t see it happening.
What I do see happening is expansion. A couple of kind, clever gents that have offered to start supplementing my feeble efforts here — should that pan out, Part-Time Audiophile will get busy. And that’ll be really cool. Stay tuned.
But circling back around to AXPONA and what I learned … having the words “The Absolute Sound” printed on your show badge is really interesting. I got a lot of “congrats” from some old friends, which was nice, but much more so was the number of “regular” show goers who stopped me in my tracks and told me where I “had to go to” (and surprisingly, it wasn’t to Helen Waite). In fact, I spent about 4 hours during the show just chatting with other audiophiles about what they heard and liked, and what they wanted to know more about. For me, it was the best part of the show. To all of you — it was great to meet you all.
You might be surprised to learn that it didn’t mean that much to the exhibitors. I’ve heard some hallway chitter about how exhibitors are rude to “regular attendees” and obsequious to reviewers. Guess what? I’ve found that most exhibitors are routinely helpful — to everyone — assuming that they can actually help everyone, which they usually can’t. Badge, no badge, it didn’t matter — what mattered far more was simply being polite, enthusiastic, smiling, and waiting my damn turn. No one cleared a room for me, and no, I didn’t get ushered right to the front — except by a couple of wiseasses performing experiments on exactly how bright a shade of red I could turn, and how fast. No, I still had to wait for, or fight for, the sweet spot — or even a seat! It wasn’t exactly a Kathy Griffin moment, but lettering on my badge or not, in most of those rooms, I was just another joe.
So much for me and my big britches, eh? Ah, well.