qulams nto calsm

I don't suppose there's any great issue here to be laid out or etched in stone, but I do have my qualms working with digital files. In truth, I have qualms with any sort of remix. It makes my palms itch. My hands want, and I mean this literally, to stick a fork into the files, somehow. Fork 'em, or jab them with a piece of conductive metal while playing with zip-zap electrified sound currents, vibrations, magnetic pickups, what have you. Digital schmigital. There's no life pulse in these waveforms, no crackle or cackling voice to be echoed or boorishly hollered through cardboard tubes, strung with wires like old tuna can communication devices, or sounded across telephone lines. I find no wobble, nothing to pluck, just a mouse to scroll and manipulate peaks and lows, chop-and-chop, blah-and-blah, on this MacBook.  I do my best to channel these via analog warming devices and faulty tape machines (my favorite recording tools), but then it's like, shit, now I have to poop these new editions back into a usb device to get 'em back onto the computer, to put them up into cohesive channels that I can play mathematics with. I really just want to yell at these files instead. But there they are, acting all qualm-y, pointlessly awaiting their moment in the sun: to be played on some otherwise soon-to-be-obselete social media-oriented online format that one can easily give just a casual half-listen to. You know, do what I do while listening to someone's sound cloud or band camp account -- even if they're really good recordings, they're always easy to walk away from and cook some ramen to. It'd be easier, I suppose, were if I not in horny-performance-mode. I really just want to play sounds these days and not do poop-shooting via the countenance of what I'd suspect to be some laptop goober, getting backaches and sniffing his Nikes, and occasionally checking in on his blog to see if anyone commented about his last fifty cent word of wisdom about so-and-so or whatever it is that laptopian sound-dudes do. Meh. I'd seek the praises of vitamin D and not even issue my disdain for this recording process if it weren't a) raining and b) cold outside. A bike ride would save this rant. So wouldn't putting a fork into that would-be ramen I'll surely not cook in tribute to wasting my time writing this.