Do you still have a cassette player somewhere? Every time I come into your fluorescent office after dark, you’re playing music on your iPhone. The last time I saw you, it was Lana del Rey, from her Born to Die era. Subtextually, it was a perfect choice. Were you aware? Or would Freud have a field day with our moment?
There’s a couple. They sit in silence. A cassette is put into the player, and music erupts. The couple, having previously fought, solemnly look at each other. Neither knows when the last touch will be. All they know is the music. And so they dance.
One day soon, I hope, you’ll be invited to the town where I spend my days working, and you’ll come to work with me. Afterwards, we’ll go eat somewhere not-so-great away from anyone else who might want to join us, and you’ll bring me back to your hotel room for a nightcap, to listen to a cassette of Bowie you made in your youth on a tape player you always carry with you. Written across the cassette in black Sharpie: “Mad Love.”
i see you watching me
eyes blue, glazed over
a cough
a sigh
high as fuck
bouncing your head
not sure if to sleep
or to imaginary music
it must sound good
whatever it is
you pop your cassette in
press play
it goes away
nothing comes to stay
the change remains the same
the needle spikes the vein
don’t tell me your answers
when you’re still looking for questions
The cassette tape played as they drove down the highway, the wind blowing through the windows as they sang a long to the old songs. They weren’t even particularly good songs, just songs that brought back the feelings of their youth — of their childhood. When days seemed to go on forever and things were so much simpler. Back when their family was whole. Their dad’s old tapes in their mom’s old car… There was a feeling that made them want this moment forever.
The sellotape spins its revolutions in front of me; inside of the plastic container of my family’s old cassette. The Japanese synth from the 1980s’ resounds through the air yet dulls when it reaches my modern sense of taste. The beats lose their veracity. The rhythm loses its velocity. The hook loses its viscosity. The history of my family is being killed by the digital record of the present. This old medium has lost its value to me. In my opinion, this cassette no longer preserves “sound.” How could this cassette ever hope to preserve music.
An object used in the past to play music. They were bought at the store. You had to rewind it to hear your favorite song again. I don’t remember how much I paid for them. You could play it in a Walkman or on a boombox. They tape could get tangled. I really loved looking at the covers of them, and seeing if the lyrics were enclosed.
A cassette is what you think of when you think of childhood – in the driveway, listening to usher on your rollerblades. It’s what we used to record songs to be able to listen to whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted. It’s how we made sure we’d be able to sing along to songs with our friends by memor
She rewound and pressed play. The familiar static and then her mother’s voice, “Leave a message!”
Rewind again.
“Leave a message!”
Rewind.
“Leave a message.”
She felt the hot tears rolling down her cheeks, waiting for the tape to play out to the end.
sophia loved the castle it was so big and fun her and ryder would play hide n seek so took privaite classes and had her own horse but sometimes she wish that she had other kids around.
Once upon a time there was a girl her name was sophia she was a well educated young lady she has light brown eyes and skin golden as the sand she had a little brother named ryder who was 2 and a baby sister name rayne who was 3 months. she was born into royalty her father was the king of england and mother the queen.
Cassette – reminds me of driving in Alicia’s car to gymnastics when her iPod was connected via some cords to the cassette tape in Papa’s old truck. We would listen to tim mcgraw, blake shelton, marie brokup
i used to have a cassette player. I loved my music and the ability to take a tiny (seemly) music player anywhere I went even in my car. My music was an extension of my dreams aso having them so close by was perfect.
My mother in law had an old cassette player on the top shelf of a closet. When cleaning everything out, she refused to get rid of it. Someday it will be worth a lot of money she said. IT is someday and she is gone and buried and the cassette tape is still there and it isn’t worth anything.
“Back in my day,” groaned the old man, “we listened to vinyls, not these newfangled apps and Spotifies!”
“And back in my day,” replied the millennial, “we listened to cassettes and CDs. But you don’t hear me bitching 24/7 about iPhones and online music apps.”
“Speak for yourself!” sniped the hipster, whose jeans were so tight that they were cutting off blood circulation in his thighs.
In Asia,
they crave,
the good luck haven,
sending out products priced tagged at random numbers,
a business haven,
we set 99 cents,
and call it the only,
In Asia,
they set 88 cents,
and feel like
that products solid in solidarity,
it’s lonely.
Cassettes are old school, but bring back many great memories of my teenage years. Friends and Friday nights cruising around blasting music and making new friends. What a great time.
En un viejo cassette guardaba las canciones que me gustaban. Hoy hago listas interminables para tratar de hacer sentir a quien quiero, para entrar en el mood que busco y para sentirme mejor con todo.
He thumbed the cassette into its slot on the dashboard and the sweetest sound came twisting out of the speakers. “Baby, we were born to run,” we sang along as his beat-up Chevy carried us down the freeway and left it all in the rearview.
A square piece of plastic with two holes side by side. Holding it in his right hand observing it with his left. He thought to himself what could it be? It appeared to have plastic tape wrapped inside but nowhere for it to come in or out. More like a perpetual wheel, the plastic tape just wound around and around. Sitting in the attic, rifling through his mother’s belongings from the past, he wished she was alive to share with him what this unusual piece of plastic was. He had just blown out all 12 candles on his birthday cake the day before. When he closed his eyes to make a wish, one he had made for the past five years, he knew when he opened his eyes she wouldn’t be there. It still did not stop him from wishing the same wish year after year. Yet, this year he decided if he couldn’t have her back, he would find a way to connect with her. So, his gift to himself was waiting until his father left for his Saturday morning tennis match. He went to a place his father had forbid him to go. He was told it was best to let the past rest. “Rest”, he would think over and over, what does that mean. He longed to know who she was, what she was like and how different life would have been if she hadn’t ended her life early. It was cold and damp in the attic, placing his body through what looks like a trap door in the ceiling, he pulled himself up and through the hole. His eyes grew big, looking around he could tell that all of her belongings had been placed in this place. Above his head all these years. He had been in arms reach and did not even realize it. There was a part of him who wished he could have let the past rest but another part that had become restless over the past two years. A part of him that could not imagine his future without the knowledge of the woman that brought him into this world. He had vague memories. Every year they would slowly slip away and his memories become memories of memories. He use to remember what she smelled like. He knew when she would come and go by her sent but even that had faded with the years.
A cassette is an old form of audio recording. I haven’t used one since I was a kid. I think they’re outdated, but apparently they’re making a comeback because analog music quality is superior to digital. So maybe the old way of doing things isn’t always so bad after all.
The fact that cassettes are outdated is kind of surreal. I grew up with them. They contained music that are the soundtrack to some of my happiest memories. And now, even if I found them again, I doubt I’d be able to listen to them.
old time music instrument
plastic case
ribbon that flew everywhere
when broken there was no fixing
C before ass
reminds me of 1970’s
miss my mom and dad
driving down the road with the wind blowing in my hair
roads in california along the beach
winding roads
dogs in my car, freedom to see the world
A delivery system of entertainment from the 70s and 80s. Housed audio and video files. Can plug it into car or stereo system. for videos, plug into video player attached to TV. People collected them and traded them.
tape for a radio; can store your favorite things; a little old school and historical; black; reminds me of my sister; dating memento to show love; broke it when Angela was little
contains music, plugs into a player in your car or stereo system. Also used for videos and inserted into video player. Contains video and audio. Can be forwarded, paused or reversed. A delivery system of entertainment. Used in the 70s and 80s.
Pencil. We used pencils back in the day to fix or rewind or fast forward our cassettes. Hoping to get them to continue to work or to get them to just the right area to start the song we wanted to hear.
The dust was thick in the attic, making her eyes water. She sneezed, accidentally spraying an old gray turn-table stereo. It had a double cassette player. Nostalgia hit her like lightning. She smiled and began to search for the box of mix-tapes she used to collect.
hey let’s play that song again
it’s full of life and love and hatred and stench
it reeks of all of your bullshit
it smells like hypocrites
it’s nothing more than a micro memory
taped over dozens of times
to make the perfect mixtape for
every time
cassette
play me
again and again
As a child,
All i had was music.
From the stereo boomed melodious tunes,
all from
My cassette.
Do you still have a cassette player somewhere? Every time I come into your fluorescent office after dark, you’re playing music on your iPhone. The last time I saw you, it was Lana del Rey, from her Born to Die era. Subtextually, it was a perfect choice. Were you aware? Or would Freud have a field day with our moment?
There’s a couple. They sit in silence. A cassette is put into the player, and music erupts. The couple, having previously fought, solemnly look at each other. Neither knows when the last touch will be. All they know is the music. And so they dance.
One day soon, I hope, you’ll be invited to the town where I spend my days working, and you’ll come to work with me. Afterwards, we’ll go eat somewhere not-so-great away from anyone else who might want to join us, and you’ll bring me back to your hotel room for a nightcap, to listen to a cassette of Bowie you made in your youth on a tape player you always carry with you. Written across the cassette in black Sharpie: “Mad Love.”
i see you watching me
eyes blue, glazed over
a cough
a sigh
high as fuck
bouncing your head
not sure if to sleep
or to imaginary music
it must sound good
whatever it is
you pop your cassette in
press play
it goes away
nothing comes to stay
the change remains the same
the needle spikes the vein
don’t tell me your answers
when you’re still looking for questions
a caset teip is somefin u put in de caset playar and u play da muzik an if it sounds good u do a litle dance, make a lil luv, get down 2nite
The cassette tape played as they drove down the highway, the wind blowing through the windows as they sang a long to the old songs. They weren’t even particularly good songs, just songs that brought back the feelings of their youth — of their childhood. When days seemed to go on forever and things were so much simpler. Back when their family was whole. Their dad’s old tapes in their mom’s old car… There was a feeling that made them want this moment forever.
The sellotape spins its revolutions in front of me; inside of the plastic container of my family’s old cassette. The Japanese synth from the 1980s’ resounds through the air yet dulls when it reaches my modern sense of taste. The beats lose their veracity. The rhythm loses its velocity. The hook loses its viscosity. The history of my family is being killed by the digital record of the present. This old medium has lost its value to me. In my opinion, this cassette no longer preserves “sound.” How could this cassette ever hope to preserve music.
An object used in the past to play music. They were bought at the store. You had to rewind it to hear your favorite song again. I don’t remember how much I paid for them. You could play it in a Walkman or on a boombox. They tape could get tangled. I really loved looking at the covers of them, and seeing if the lyrics were enclosed.
cassette
A cassette is what you think of when you think of childhood – in the driveway, listening to usher on your rollerblades. It’s what we used to record songs to be able to listen to whatever we wanted, whenever we wanted. It’s how we made sure we’d be able to sing along to songs with our friends by memor
She rewound and pressed play. The familiar static and then her mother’s voice, “Leave a message!”
Rewind again.
“Leave a message!”
Rewind.
“Leave a message.”
She felt the hot tears rolling down her cheeks, waiting for the tape to play out to the end.
sophia loved the castle it was so big and fun her and ryder would play hide n seek so took privaite classes and had her own horse but sometimes she wish that she had other kids around.
Once upon a time there was a girl her name was sophia she was a well educated young lady she has light brown eyes and skin golden as the sand she had a little brother named ryder who was 2 and a baby sister name rayne who was 3 months. she was born into royalty her father was the king of england and mother the queen.
Cassette – reminds me of driving in Alicia’s car to gymnastics when her iPod was connected via some cords to the cassette tape in Papa’s old truck. We would listen to tim mcgraw, blake shelton, marie brokup
i used to have a cassette player. I loved my music and the ability to take a tiny (seemly) music player anywhere I went even in my car. My music was an extension of my dreams aso having them so close by was perfect.
My mother in law had an old cassette player on the top shelf of a closet. When cleaning everything out, she refused to get rid of it. Someday it will be worth a lot of money she said. IT is someday and she is gone and buried and the cassette tape is still there and it isn’t worth anything.
Old. Out-dated. messy. broken. bad technology. music. sound. car. too many of them. expensive. tired.
“Back in my day,” groaned the old man, “we listened to vinyls, not these newfangled apps and Spotifies!”
“And back in my day,” replied the millennial, “we listened to cassettes and CDs. But you don’t hear me bitching 24/7 about iPhones and online music apps.”
“Speak for yourself!” sniped the hipster, whose jeans were so tight that they were cutting off blood circulation in his thighs.
In Asia,
they crave,
the good luck haven,
sending out products priced tagged at random numbers,
a business haven,
we set 99 cents,
and call it the only,
In Asia,
they set 88 cents,
and feel like
that products solid in solidarity,
it’s lonely.
Cassettes are old school, but bring back many great memories of my teenage years. Friends and Friday nights cruising around blasting music and making new friends. What a great time.
tape, music, old school, nostalgic, careful, history, documentation
En un viejo cassette guardaba las canciones que me gustaban. Hoy hago listas interminables para tratar de hacer sentir a quien quiero, para entrar en el mood que busco y para sentirme mejor con todo.
music tape 1980s songs mixes outdated tangled plastic nostalgia madonna boom box
He thumbed the cassette into its slot on the dashboard and the sweetest sound came twisting out of the speakers. “Baby, we were born to run,” we sang along as his beat-up Chevy carried us down the freeway and left it all in the rearview.
A cassette is the small collection of gears attached to the rear axel of a bicycle. This helps determine cycling efficiency.
A square piece of plastic with two holes side by side. Holding it in his right hand observing it with his left. He thought to himself what could it be? It appeared to have plastic tape wrapped inside but nowhere for it to come in or out. More like a perpetual wheel, the plastic tape just wound around and around. Sitting in the attic, rifling through his mother’s belongings from the past, he wished she was alive to share with him what this unusual piece of plastic was. He had just blown out all 12 candles on his birthday cake the day before. When he closed his eyes to make a wish, one he had made for the past five years, he knew when he opened his eyes she wouldn’t be there. It still did not stop him from wishing the same wish year after year. Yet, this year he decided if he couldn’t have her back, he would find a way to connect with her. So, his gift to himself was waiting until his father left for his Saturday morning tennis match. He went to a place his father had forbid him to go. He was told it was best to let the past rest. “Rest”, he would think over and over, what does that mean. He longed to know who she was, what she was like and how different life would have been if she hadn’t ended her life early. It was cold and damp in the attic, placing his body through what looks like a trap door in the ceiling, he pulled himself up and through the hole. His eyes grew big, looking around he could tell that all of her belongings had been placed in this place. Above his head all these years. He had been in arms reach and did not even realize it. There was a part of him who wished he could have let the past rest but another part that had become restless over the past two years. A part of him that could not imagine his future without the knowledge of the woman that brought him into this world. He had vague memories. Every year they would slowly slip away and his memories become memories of memories. He use to remember what she smelled like. He knew when she would come and go by her sent but even that had faded with the years.
The cassette is from my youth.
that should be a hint at the generation i am from.
Maybe its all about the music
A cassette is an old form of audio recording. I haven’t used one since I was a kid. I think they’re outdated, but apparently they’re making a comeback because analog music quality is superior to digital. So maybe the old way of doing things isn’t always so bad after all.
Old, outdated, obsolete, memories, 80’s, music, friends.
The fact that cassettes are outdated is kind of surreal. I grew up with them. They contained music that are the soundtrack to some of my happiest memories. And now, even if I found them again, I doubt I’d be able to listen to them.
old time music instrument
plastic case
ribbon that flew everywhere
when broken there was no fixing
C before ass
reminds me of 1970’s
miss my mom and dad
driving down the road with the wind blowing in my hair
roads in california along the beach
winding roads
dogs in my car, freedom to see the world
A delivery system of entertainment from the 70s and 80s. Housed audio and video files. Can plug it into car or stereo system. for videos, plug into video player attached to TV. People collected them and traded them.
tape for a radio; can store your favorite things; a little old school and historical; black; reminds me of my sister; dating memento to show love; broke it when Angela was little
contains music, plugs into a player in your car or stereo system. Also used for videos and inserted into video player. Contains video and audio. Can be forwarded, paused or reversed. A delivery system of entertainment. Used in the 70s and 80s.
Pencil. We used pencils back in the day to fix or rewind or fast forward our cassettes. Hoping to get them to continue to work or to get them to just the right area to start the song we wanted to hear.
Around and around the little strip spins as a new idea comes into play. A cassette full of memories, who knew.
I just typed a whole paragraph on cassettes and now it got deleted so this is what you get. Cassette will be a word of minor annoyance today.
The dust was thick in the attic, making her eyes water. She sneezed, accidentally spraying an old gray turn-table stereo. It had a double cassette player. Nostalgia hit her like lightning. She smiled and began to search for the box of mix-tapes she used to collect.
hey let’s play that song again
it’s full of life and love and hatred and stench
it reeks of all of your bullshit
it smells like hypocrites
it’s nothing more than a micro memory
taped over dozens of times
to make the perfect mixtape for
every time
cassette
play me
again and again