Anne bought me a dictaphone as a Valentine's Day present. I said to her a few weeks back that I often think of poetry and stuff when out walking the dog and have to say the words to myself over and over like a litany to remember them until I come home and can note them down. I actually said that I liked doing this – there was a rhythm to it. But no matter, pragmatism will out in the name of love.
I imagine I'm going to be like Alan Alda's ghastly character in Crimes and Misdemeanors who interrupts conversations by whipping out his dictaphone and saying something like “Idea for a screenplay....” and, to be honest, I've just spent an hour making like Buzz Lightyear.
Anyway, it works, for I used it on my walk today, but by the time I came home I hadn't just forgotten the message but also that I'd actually used it at all. When I finally remembered I ran for some paper, pressed play, pen poised to transcribe whatever poetry gold I was about to save from oblivion.
'Get Dentastix for the dog', I said.
I imagine I'm going to be like Alan Alda's ghastly character in Crimes and Misdemeanors who interrupts conversations by whipping out his dictaphone and saying something like “Idea for a screenplay....” and, to be honest, I've just spent an hour making like Buzz Lightyear.
Anyway, it works, for I used it on my walk today, but by the time I came home I hadn't just forgotten the message but also that I'd actually used it at all. When I finally remembered I ran for some paper, pressed play, pen poised to transcribe whatever poetry gold I was about to save from oblivion.
'Get Dentastix for the dog', I said.
RSS Feed
