Wakeup 8: “The day of recording”

Tuesday has none of the drama of Monday (what pop songs were ever written about Tuesday?)* So we’ve selected something for your Tuesday alarm clock which reflects the ‘neither-here-nor-there’-ness of this day. It’s by Andrea Washington, and in the absence of a title, I’ve decided to call her piece The day of recording.

Download or listen to Andrea’s piece here.

Andrea writes:

The day of recording took me back to my childhood – I walked around with my trusty recorder in hand making as many obscure noises as possible. I believe my soundtrack is somewhat of an ‘eerie beauty’.

I was able to bend and twist one noise into a creepy breathing, which when combined with the soft drone of the fan, contrasts with the resplendent tings, rings and whistles. The final few seconds is that sudden jolt out of sleepy dreamland and a shove into the reality that is the day ahead…

Well. I very much like Andrea’s use of a phrase like “resplendent tings”… but I’m not entirely convinced about the idea that “the day ahead” offers more “reality” than the glory of sleep. I could be wrong. Perhaps if we have any Jungians tuning in to WHAT LIES BENEATH they can set us straight…

Here’s a resplendant polaroid snapshot of Andrea, plunging into the unknown:

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*actually, there are quite a few Tuesday songs it seems…

3 Responses

  1. dammit. i didn’t properly sleep this afternoon. must have something to do with the coffee i had about an hour beforehand. which is a shame, because i quite liked the tick-tock-tocking of the alarm to wake up to.

  2. I’m listening to this one just before sleep on Tuesday night – I like it a lot – it’s pensive I’m almost lulled to sleep (a lullaby) then render at the end that’s not possible because tomorrow is HUMP day – the middle of the five day week – somewhat hard to get over. Thanks !! I’m keeping this one
    Love T
    Ps I have to admit that finessing the alarms and iPhone has not been my forte – I liked listening to ALL of this one

  3. Dusty came to the property to demonstrate to all the staff how to deal with snakes. Somebody filmed the event and had the sick presence of mind to zoom in as the python dug its fangs into a petrified Tracy. Henry was Cool Hand Luke and went off to get disinfectant. Noticing the flame trees in bloom (those weeds) he reflected: “As tiresome as it is my friends, you mustn’t get too fatigued by the institution. Chalk it up as an artifice that more or less offers you some time to move around space.” Comparative logic is not our first love, but measured against the enormous cracks in the dam wall this seems an easy enough place to fully inhabit our boredom. It’s certainly been my friend up until now and the benefits of having a mountain on campus are obvious. Pause the Playstation, pass the bucket bong: isn’t it usually around this time that the Tawny Frog Mouths go hunting? I hope you’re okay with reliving faded intimacy because at the Museum of Mobile Phones there’s no space for new messages until old ones get deleted. The oldest text I found was from a high-school friend who’s now an eco-terrorist, it said: If everyone pays their debts then there is no economy, which is all the more reason to learn to play the fat man’s tune to your own time signature. Depending on which side of the bed you ream from, our fat man can be a racist redneck or a lucky charm, but either way, never undervalue the work of the admin angels who buffer us aesthetes. Within strict OH&S guidelines I permit you to do something you like, like go to a meadow or just not do the things you don’t like to do. I accept the negatives are dizzying, but still, this atmosphere of cosmic fatigue makes it feel like the whole species is exhausted.

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