Shower at 4pm. Sleep past noon. Walk 5 miles. Coffee at 6pm. A normal day. Was out walking last night around 1:30am, waiting for an LP record to finish digitizing. Misjudged the length of the side, thinking it 25 minutes when it was actually 12. Stupid.
Had really good luck today with dictating into the phone and cleaning up the narrative and its voice recognition errors afterward. When I am out and alone and talking into thin air I say things that can’t cut through the combat that conversation often becomes. I can’t really share what I know about a place like calvary without sounding like a lecturer, or a tour guide, and you could not pay me enough to be one of those wanky know-it-all tour guides who scrape their knowledge from Wikipedia and the satellite unreliable sources which also scraped their research from that source.
But the rewrite of the dictation went quickly, it’s not quite done, but when it is I think I’ll send it straight to the .NYC and skip the .MOBI, though I thought of dumping the raw transcript here just for comedic joy of how freakin’ wrong the speech recognition can be.
Every time I come to this place (ghetto coffee shop) this song “Let’s Marvin Gaye And Get It On” plays on WPLJ. I cannot believe this song exists. Do couples in this world actually have moments where one taps the other’s shoulder and whispers “Let’s Marvin Gaye”? I could imagine that happening as a joke, in reference to this song, but was that deceased singer’s name synonymous with fornication before this song was released? Is there a genre of songs based on singers’ signature tunes waiting to blossom?
Let’s Chubby Checker and Do The Twist.
Let’s Otis Redding and Drift Away.
Let’s Kiss and Rock and Roll All Night.
Let’s Billy Craddock and Knock Three Times
Let’s Amy Winehouse and Rehab.
