Related Recs

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Voice memos

I record when I start to forget and listen back to remember, “be here now.” An act of documenting… when I'm crying out in laughter or suffering, tired right before bed, and a passage I just read, but most of all when I hear unique sounds.

@tabitha

Feb 16, 2025

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CAPTURING WHAT YOU LOVE IN SOUND

Using the voice memos app way more now !

@Jai

May 4, 2025

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voice message journaling

lately I have been talking and talking and talking into my voice memos app, thinking about getting some empty tapes and a tape recorder and transferring my form of journaling into this form. my mind moves so fast, it is nice to clear my thoughts in that way :-)

@itsmandy

Aug 29, 2024

Top Recs from @a2a

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DAVID BOWIE’S “MODERN LOVE”

all day long i’ve had David Bowie’s “Modern Love” stuck in my head. all day long since I woke up late and sweating and the song blasted in my ears on the way to work. or what i call work. the place i show up late each day and drink drip coffee and think too hard and don’t really get paid. today i got lost looking for the lunch room. when i left work the streets were crowded and thoughts of a swinging car door smacking my bicycle into the next lane sending my neck underneath a wheel were impossible to shake as i called my mother on the telephone. thoughts can seep into your head and you might not catch where they came from. i left my notebook open last night in a common frenzy and when i returned from work sweating my roommate was home to likely read it. i wonder if he did. he’s a private man. perhaps the song is stuck because i’ve not listened to much else. i watched a film tonight with many songs and maybe a few too many but none of them were David Bowie’s “Modern Love” and none of them stuck in my head.

@a2a

3d ago

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MUSEUM SCULPTURE

Is that a flute? She asks, and we stare, together, for too long, at the sculpture. A slender wooden form stands, tight face carved into the top, and the long grey protrusion, the one in question, juts out from its middle, not quite a perfect cylinder. Strings fall from the metal, cutting negative space in a sharp diagonal. Suddenly, the room is crowded, loud. Footsteps creak on the floor and echo and they come from every angle and my ears can’t take it. It doesn’t look like a flute to me. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about, I think. And she doesn’t get it, I think. And why are you here. You don’t belong here, I think. You are an idiot. How uncreative, I think. What’s that one supposed to be? She asks.

@a2a

2d ago