It turns on the wind. no way to steal the sound. it is light and old fashioned. wooden shoe. analogue and tru to the real resonance. I like it. big and small. old and older. recorder.
bang
love is just one word. This word can describe a million feelings, thoughts, emotions.
Darione
Those willing to sponge-squeare your illusions after you cast them in their hallow bloodstream. Nice persons, you know…
Kaizar
You are my recoder, taking everything I say and twisting it. you think you are all that when you can’t get anything right, I just wish I had the same gift for twisting shit like you
Rachel
Well if you’re talking about the musical instrument then it’s simple. Back in high school it was one of the first instruments we took up. I used to have a few of them lying around at home too. You know, I’d like to take up plaing again, since I know they were used in Beatles songs!
Zoe Campbell
recorder
sam
It always perplexes me as to why fathers bring cameras and recorders on vacations. Wouldn’t you rather make your own memories than simply film others?
AnnA
we can always go back and listen to the happy days and the happy times and the times when you used to smile. you would take out your recorder and laugh. i miss you now that your gone, at least i still have your recorder.
stephanie
Recorders are used for various purposes. THey can be used to record sound as well as video, which is why we have things such as YouTube. Recording allows us to relive things that have already happened, so they are very important to many people who dwell in the past.
Sarah
The squawk nearly made her ears bleed. Teaching grade five music required the patience of a saint. The squirmy little ten year olds with no ear and no desire to learn made her want to cry some days.
bonmotgirl
magnetic tape
was remnant of
my father’s generation
spinning through
dorm rooms and government
offices
strung out on desert roads
Fred
with the recorder on i find myself searching for words to make my ego look strong and powerful. this fact of observation makes me want to hide under a blanket and see what arises when the ego is at rest. egorestlessness.
sprouts
He rewound the type and played it again. The recorder had done its job perfectly, catching the whole confession on the small cassette held inside. Now the only problem was making sure it reached the right people to put that bastard behind bars where he belonged.
“I killed her. An’ I’d kill her again, ya hear me?!”
He rewound it another time.
Klepto
I found this old recorder in my night stand. I heard myself talking into it from when before I was married. I was so scared. And I had so many doctors apointments. It wasn’t a good time for me. I wish that I wouldn’t record negative things because when I look back, I’m embarassed about it.
S
I was reminded of that instrument that I we were all forced to learn in fifth grade… what was it called again? Oh yea… the recorder. And we were supposed to be inspired to go on to play bigger and better things like the cello or flute or some crap like that…
Anonymous
my recordr is not woriking. I don’t know what’s wrong with it. I had it working a few weeks ago but now it just won’t go. If I had a battery , may e I could hook it upp and get it goin again.
Tom
squeal went th recorder. “jackie don’t blow it that hard”
“sory miss, my recorder is jammed”
“very well”
“miss”? a boy asked
“yes samuel”?
“are we gonna be able to compete”?
“i think we will make it”
“YAY” they said in unison.
rachel
A way of recording one’s life. I use a recorder to play the Bsharp of my life. I like to play B sharp because it reminds me of lights in class.
Max
She loved being in the recording booth. Just her and the mic singing her songs. She liked being on stage too but it was just so peaceful to be here in the booth. She couldn’t think of anything she wanted to be doing more then making music.
Kristen
I think the best human recorders–those whose memories weigh the heaviest–are the most depressed of people. Forgetfulness is a subconscious defense.
Myona
The recorder was the only thing left in the empty room. The only part of my life, our life, left to me. Every thing else had disappeared. But that’s what you get when you trust someone to love you and be there for you. That’s what you get when you love them back, and trust them to do the right thing. HA, right thing?
Kaytee Amattea
It’s ugly to day. My mind reordered this occurrence in life. It was beautiful but the clouds rolled in an dark memories followed not far behind. Soon a thing must die. And again, I’ll be one the road.
twitter.com/WillCreates
I played one when I was in fourth grade. It helped get me into music. Playing it reminds me of my childhood, and my elementary school friends. I still take it out and play with it once in while. It is simple, but it is fun. I can only now play “Mary Had A Little Lamb.”
Dan
a recorder is a dumb ass instrument that you learn in first grade. it is the first introduction for many people in american to the world of musical instruments. on an unrelated note a recorder is used to record something. you can have a recorder to record something musical or a video like on tv.
Anonymous
in grade 6 my teacher taught the entire class to play jesus christ super on the recorder. it was epic.
san
i am not a musical person, well not an instrumentally musical person. I can try but only succeed so far, so things like a recorder, in my youth was … challenging but enjoyable… enough to keep me interested in music, but not to write or compose anything. It’s just a simple clarinet.
Abby
cd
disc
joana
something you record your voice in
it can be used to remember to sing to make sounds
for fun
to play with your voice
also an instrument
easier than most
fun to play
less complicated than a flute
has few key holes
cheap
easy to learn
hhh
a tape recorder. Though haven’t used one till date.
K
Looking through reviews online. What’s the best one? User “Tom” says…
“able to record conversations at work from over ten feet away. They didn’t even know I was recording them.”
Scary.
Charles
“What if..” her creative coach had asked, “What if you turned it into a fantasy story?” “What if you wrote a new ending beyond imaginings?” So, she turned on the recorder…
Janet
I am the recorder of my own life. All that passes in front of my eyes, into my ears, across my other senses becomes the sum of all I am. But it’s foolish to leave it at that, for the brain is the sum of much more than just the collected recordings of my life; my brain synthesizes, processes, organizes, looks for meaning in, and categorizes those experiences. The cheapest devices in the world can record the sights and sounds, and even to some rudimentary extent, the other sensations that formed a part of my life. But only the brain can make meaning from it.
bobo
good stuff.
ariel
the recorder sat in its place. someone had just used it so it was still warm. there was a message. “find her in 10 days or she is dead.”
Carmela Rourke
there’s a pitch to the gaze of your eyes,
a tune to the stares we break and mend-
and here it is,
forever engraved in my brain
synne.r
unbridled and fresh it sings tunes blown from kids. exaltations to the futility of grown ups. i look down as they look up and i can see their joy.
becca Loo
I read letters and words as I wear clothes and shoes. I read persons and i wear my own personality i can fake attitudes but it doesnt make people read my own way of being.
Diana
The shy little girl crept up onto the stage. She knew what everyone expected her to do. The racous applause rang around the hall, hitting her full in the face. hands shaking, she put the tattered music sheet on the stand, and took out her recorder. She began to play, short, stuttering notes.
Equality
It turns on the wind. no way to steal the sound. it is light and old fashioned. wooden shoe. analogue and tru to the real resonance. I like it. big and small. old and older. recorder.
love is just one word. This word can describe a million feelings, thoughts, emotions.
Those willing to sponge-squeare your illusions after you cast them in their hallow bloodstream. Nice persons, you know…
You are my recoder, taking everything I say and twisting it. you think you are all that when you can’t get anything right, I just wish I had the same gift for twisting shit like you
Well if you’re talking about the musical instrument then it’s simple. Back in high school it was one of the first instruments we took up. I used to have a few of them lying around at home too. You know, I’d like to take up plaing again, since I know they were used in Beatles songs!
recorder
It always perplexes me as to why fathers bring cameras and recorders on vacations. Wouldn’t you rather make your own memories than simply film others?
we can always go back and listen to the happy days and the happy times and the times when you used to smile. you would take out your recorder and laugh. i miss you now that your gone, at least i still have your recorder.
Recorders are used for various purposes. THey can be used to record sound as well as video, which is why we have things such as YouTube. Recording allows us to relive things that have already happened, so they are very important to many people who dwell in the past.
The squawk nearly made her ears bleed. Teaching grade five music required the patience of a saint. The squirmy little ten year olds with no ear and no desire to learn made her want to cry some days.
magnetic tape
was remnant of
my father’s generation
spinning through
dorm rooms and government
offices
strung out on desert roads
with the recorder on i find myself searching for words to make my ego look strong and powerful. this fact of observation makes me want to hide under a blanket and see what arises when the ego is at rest. egorestlessness.
He rewound the type and played it again. The recorder had done its job perfectly, catching the whole confession on the small cassette held inside. Now the only problem was making sure it reached the right people to put that bastard behind bars where he belonged.
“I killed her. An’ I’d kill her again, ya hear me?!”
He rewound it another time.
I found this old recorder in my night stand. I heard myself talking into it from when before I was married. I was so scared. And I had so many doctors apointments. It wasn’t a good time for me. I wish that I wouldn’t record negative things because when I look back, I’m embarassed about it.
I was reminded of that instrument that I we were all forced to learn in fifth grade… what was it called again? Oh yea… the recorder. And we were supposed to be inspired to go on to play bigger and better things like the cello or flute or some crap like that…
my recordr is not woriking. I don’t know what’s wrong with it. I had it working a few weeks ago but now it just won’t go. If I had a battery , may e I could hook it upp and get it goin again.
squeal went th recorder. “jackie don’t blow it that hard”
“sory miss, my recorder is jammed”
“very well”
“miss”? a boy asked
“yes samuel”?
“are we gonna be able to compete”?
“i think we will make it”
“YAY” they said in unison.
A way of recording one’s life. I use a recorder to play the Bsharp of my life. I like to play B sharp because it reminds me of lights in class.
She loved being in the recording booth. Just her and the mic singing her songs. She liked being on stage too but it was just so peaceful to be here in the booth. She couldn’t think of anything she wanted to be doing more then making music.
I think the best human recorders–those whose memories weigh the heaviest–are the most depressed of people. Forgetfulness is a subconscious defense.
The recorder was the only thing left in the empty room. The only part of my life, our life, left to me. Every thing else had disappeared. But that’s what you get when you trust someone to love you and be there for you. That’s what you get when you love them back, and trust them to do the right thing. HA, right thing?
It’s ugly to day. My mind reordered this occurrence in life. It was beautiful but the clouds rolled in an dark memories followed not far behind. Soon a thing must die. And again, I’ll be one the road.
I played one when I was in fourth grade. It helped get me into music. Playing it reminds me of my childhood, and my elementary school friends. I still take it out and play with it once in while. It is simple, but it is fun. I can only now play “Mary Had A Little Lamb.”
a recorder is a dumb ass instrument that you learn in first grade. it is the first introduction for many people in american to the world of musical instruments. on an unrelated note a recorder is used to record something. you can have a recorder to record something musical or a video like on tv.
in grade 6 my teacher taught the entire class to play jesus christ super on the recorder. it was epic.
i am not a musical person, well not an instrumentally musical person. I can try but only succeed so far, so things like a recorder, in my youth was … challenging but enjoyable… enough to keep me interested in music, but not to write or compose anything. It’s just a simple clarinet.
cd
disc
something you record your voice in
it can be used to remember to sing to make sounds
for fun
to play with your voice
also an instrument
easier than most
fun to play
less complicated than a flute
has few key holes
cheap
easy to learn
a tape recorder. Though haven’t used one till date.
Looking through reviews online. What’s the best one? User “Tom” says…
“able to record conversations at work from over ten feet away. They didn’t even know I was recording them.”
Scary.
“What if..” her creative coach had asked, “What if you turned it into a fantasy story?” “What if you wrote a new ending beyond imaginings?” So, she turned on the recorder…
I am the recorder of my own life. All that passes in front of my eyes, into my ears, across my other senses becomes the sum of all I am. But it’s foolish to leave it at that, for the brain is the sum of much more than just the collected recordings of my life; my brain synthesizes, processes, organizes, looks for meaning in, and categorizes those experiences. The cheapest devices in the world can record the sights and sounds, and even to some rudimentary extent, the other sensations that formed a part of my life. But only the brain can make meaning from it.
good stuff.
the recorder sat in its place. someone had just used it so it was still warm. there was a message. “find her in 10 days or she is dead.”
there’s a pitch to the gaze of your eyes,
a tune to the stares we break and mend-
and here it is,
forever engraved in my brain
unbridled and fresh it sings tunes blown from kids. exaltations to the futility of grown ups. i look down as they look up and i can see their joy.
I read letters and words as I wear clothes and shoes. I read persons and i wear my own personality i can fake attitudes but it doesnt make people read my own way of being.
The shy little girl crept up onto the stage. She knew what everyone expected her to do. The racous applause rang around the hall, hitting her full in the face. hands shaking, she put the tattered music sheet on the stand, and took out her recorder. She began to play, short, stuttering notes.
Something that replicates something exacly