Keep at it! Or, maybe not? Our 1st time podcast host is hesitant to record conversation beyond a couple pony bottles (pony bottles are best drank by the case.) So as a suggestion, drink 3 or 4 of these short bottles before firing up the smart studio? In addition, try pulling in from the street a dozen or so with the promise of a half pint per quarter hour of "listening." If it worked for Americanism then than why not for a little techno social rally now. And it constructs a Socratic sounding board on the cheap. Yes that internet can be so, so, so entangled. Michael Davies always came by plane with duty free bags emptied of their content in hand before he approached a recorded lecture. Though he recognized his seated audience the fact his lectures were recorded gave him... pause? I am of the belief that talks needed to sort things out should be off the record. But in an age where when you "walk" in state woodlands inappropriately you receive conviction by trail cam footage... there is no more "private conversation" or working things through between friends. Perhaps I am wrong. But I wouldn't bet on it. You have a right to remain silent (in prayer)¿ See London case.
To visit, I traveled by bus, Greyhound and Trailways, until the mid eighties when airfare became affordable. Bus depots were almost always associated with the wrong side of the tracks. These ill kept shelters offered filthy wash rooms and stale vendor machine "food." During bus transfers, rather than sit in the crowd and be propositioned (the deal was always the same), I studied the surrounding brown fields for a taproom. Taprooms offered a couple draft beers, stale shelled peanuts, and conversation with the resident- usually a widower waiting for the call home. In Cleveland one Christmas I had the great fortune of sharing a 7 oz (half pint) beer or two with a recently "fired" newspaper man. Not all newspaper men wrote stories, some just jotted down Ads, obits, sport results, etc. This man without family and career was lonely. Wearing his worn jacket and tie this writer had nothing to say. I suppose being young and optimistic about my chances, I took away from the dimness. Come 50 years the taproom is gone, but the beer is the same, 1 dollar Pabst. And what of the resident? He remains too. More lonely than ever.
PS. Social media reminds me of the anticipation of receiving that letter that never did arrive but then settling for the preoccupation opening junk mail and flipping through flyers.
Thank You for allowing me to sit at the end of your comment- room. Come the next round I will "talk" about the writer who typed then paid to have his manuscripts "typed" into digital, and sent off.
Good conversation!
Keep at it! Or, maybe not? Our 1st time podcast host is hesitant to record conversation beyond a couple pony bottles (pony bottles are best drank by the case.) So as a suggestion, drink 3 or 4 of these short bottles before firing up the smart studio? In addition, try pulling in from the street a dozen or so with the promise of a half pint per quarter hour of "listening." If it worked for Americanism then than why not for a little techno social rally now. And it constructs a Socratic sounding board on the cheap. Yes that internet can be so, so, so entangled. Michael Davies always came by plane with duty free bags emptied of their content in hand before he approached a recorded lecture. Though he recognized his seated audience the fact his lectures were recorded gave him... pause? I am of the belief that talks needed to sort things out should be off the record. But in an age where when you "walk" in state woodlands inappropriately you receive conviction by trail cam footage... there is no more "private conversation" or working things through between friends. Perhaps I am wrong. But I wouldn't bet on it. You have a right to remain silent (in prayer)¿ See London case.
Cryptic much?
To visit, I traveled by bus, Greyhound and Trailways, until the mid eighties when airfare became affordable. Bus depots were almost always associated with the wrong side of the tracks. These ill kept shelters offered filthy wash rooms and stale vendor machine "food." During bus transfers, rather than sit in the crowd and be propositioned (the deal was always the same), I studied the surrounding brown fields for a taproom. Taprooms offered a couple draft beers, stale shelled peanuts, and conversation with the resident- usually a widower waiting for the call home. In Cleveland one Christmas I had the great fortune of sharing a 7 oz (half pint) beer or two with a recently "fired" newspaper man. Not all newspaper men wrote stories, some just jotted down Ads, obits, sport results, etc. This man without family and career was lonely. Wearing his worn jacket and tie this writer had nothing to say. I suppose being young and optimistic about my chances, I took away from the dimness. Come 50 years the taproom is gone, but the beer is the same, 1 dollar Pabst. And what of the resident? He remains too. More lonely than ever.
PS. Social media reminds me of the anticipation of receiving that letter that never did arrive but then settling for the preoccupation opening junk mail and flipping through flyers.
Thank You for allowing me to sit at the end of your comment- room. Come the next round I will "talk" about the writer who typed then paid to have his manuscripts "typed" into digital, and sent off.
Roads (experiences) not shared. So much for words.