Static on the table

My grandmother gave me this gigantic stack of records. Most of them
are scratched dinasours of Elvis or The Monkies or John Denver on
thick wax. I found a cool looking JFK memorial album that I shall spin
soon.

But in the stack of dusty records with worn yellow paper sleeves, I
found the Let It Be album. A good find considering it is probably
older than me and the entire thing plays without missing a beat.

I listened to it in college but on CD. Now I am hearing stuff I have
never heard. More words. More static. More laughter with a warm
feeling. A warmer feeling than today's records. And all the music
feels intimately connected.

Everything now a days is cold, shrilling, obtrusive... It's digitized
to death. Even my friends are digital. They are part of the
omnipresent social network of me. And it too often feels cold,
sometimes to the point of being offensive.

But this album makes me wonder how often I miss out on the intimate
and warm drink at the bar with a friend because I tweet 140
characters... Or writing in a journal instead of a blog using a smart
phone.

I think you get my point...

Also, please note the sentence below:
Sent from my iPhone