I Hate Technology
I’m typing this blog post right now because, if I don’t, I will murder something. Every so often my studio software decides that little sound files I’ve been using for years are suddenly… imaginary. Gone. As though the stuff I’ve been using on a daily basis was all in my head and I’m now waking up from some really effed up dream.
The conversation I’m having with my computer (out loud, mind you) involves so much obscenity I won’t print an accurate transcript, but here’s something close to it (with only one obscenity):
- Computer: That guitar sample you used as a bedrock part of Surf Chickens? Yeah, that doesn’t exist.
- Me: Wait, what?
- Computer: Never heard of it before. See? I’m searching the hard drive right now and it’s just not there.
- Me: How is that possible? We not only recorded that song but we released it already. I can play back the MP3 in iTunes and you can hear that guitar loud and clear. I know it exists.
- Computer: Nope, you’re wrong. If it existed, I’d be loading those files right now. You must be hallucinating.
- Me: Fine, I’ll look in the Library folders and you’ll see it’s right… HEY! What happened to the entire instrument sample folder set? This was, like, twenty gigs worth of stuff!
- Computer: You are some kind of crazy person and I really don’t want to work with you any more. Also, I’m emailing those photos from last weekend to your mother.
- Me: WHAT?!?
- Computer: Don’t fuck with the robots, little man.
I’ll let you know when I’m having a better day. In the mean time, I’m getting some pho.

