Choyang

“Anger, surprisingly, often follows social hierarchies. Many people easily express anger toward those who are less powerful—a waiter, a child, a junior employee—but suppress it when mistreated by someone more powerful, such as a boss, police officer, or a government body.”
― Mason Carter, Critical Thinking Unchained: From Formal Logic to Dialectics of Emancipation

“Puede ser que al final de tu viaje encuentres que todo tu optimismo estaba, en última instancia, injustificado; pero aun así, habrás vivido una vida feliz.”
― Sirius Imnot

“Radio wasn’t just a job — it was a front-row seat to culture, music, and a generation finding its voice. I was lucky enough to be behind the mic when it all mattered."

"Walking into KFRC meant stepping into radio history. That microphone carried more than music — it carried expectations, legacy, and the sound of San Francisco.”

“At KFRC, you didn’t just play records — you joined a radio institution. The building, the staff, the energy… you could feel the Bay Area listening.”
― Don Sainte-Johnn

“Chrissy, m’boy. I would like to tell you that oars are pilchard stew.” “Pilchard stew?” He shook his head, his eyes never quite settling on me for a moment. “No, no, boy. I wanted to tell you that I saw a picture of you… in the newspaper. You looked most apple light and runcible.” He had a metal tankard in his hand – his own personal one which he took to the pub each day – and he waved it about in the air so that drops of beer splashed about the place. “Apple light and runcible?” I asked to check that it wasn’t my hearing that was the problem. “What do you mean, boy?” He examined me as if I were quite mad. “I said you looked upright and respectable. I haven’t used the word runcible in my life. I don’t even know what it means.” He stopped then and gazed about the room as though unsure what he was doing there. “Anyway, as I was saying, there was a phonograph…” I understood this slurred word without asking for clarification. “… of you with your grasshopper.” It went on like this for quite some time. I particularly enjoyed a story he told from when he was a child on his family’s grand estate. He was playing with his two best friends – a unicorn and a hacksaw – and they discovered a purple blancmange. By this point, I had given up asking what he really meant and tried to enjoy the bizarre story for what it was.”
― Benedict Brown, The Christmas Candle Murders