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.
2 Comments:
I feel sad for this post that it has no comments. It's like, that first post has so many comments and no one loves this one. Follow ups are never as good as the original? Anyway. CONSIDER THIS POST COMMENTED ON BY YOUR DOZENS OF READERS.
Minirecorders are the Bono of recorders
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