I'm going to insult the beauty of childbirth and family by crassly comparing today's arrival of five copies of Fister's
Violence test pressings on my doorstep to that of a new baby. But that's the closest metaphor I have. I have been anxiously awaiting and preparing for this moment and, as soon as I knew they had shipped, thinking about little else for the last two days. Perhaps, as a test pressing, a sonogram is a better comparison. Excitement turned to nerves as the needle hit, hoping every sound would be as in place and unmarred as any infant's fingers and toes.
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| it's all good. |
I'll keep one for myself and ship the other four off to the band tonight for their assessment and approval and, very soon (I hope), these first five babies will be multiplied by 100 and unleashed upon the world.
one of those other kids of mine crashing the listening party.
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