My Quasi-Sexual Fascination with Minirecorders
Giordana left Chicago for Maryland about a week and a half ago (she's moving to Italy in early September), and for once in my life, I do not feel compelled to make jokes about my personal life to my audience of dozens (two or three of them). Let's all hope that she has a wonderful time in Italy. When she is lonely, let's email her. Deal? Deal.
In other news, I am going on a vacation. I'm going to spend a couple days in Alabama, walking the hallowed halls of my high school alma mater.
To that end, I asked for (and received) a mini-recorder for my birthday. One of those chrome gadgets where you press the red button and say, "Note to Self: Alabama contains trees." I tried it out this morning, "Note to self," I said upon waking up, "Remember to put on pants before you go to work." It is an excellent machine, and I think we can safely say that we are all grateful to my roommates for buying it for me.
After my two days in Birmingham, I am going to visit an Undisclosed Location for a few days. This Location is so thoroughly Undisclosed that even I do not yet know where it is. I am going to drive north on I-65 for a while until I find a sufficiently sketchy motel, and then I'm going to stay there for a few days and try to decode my audio notes to self (I'm picturing sitting in the hotel, trying to remember what I meant when I said, "Note to self: Goats and alarm clocks as symbols for utilitarianism").
I will report back on the results of my vacation shortly. And when I say shortly, I mean in a month or so.