a little instrument that you blow into to make a tune. it’s used a lot in primary schools. made of wood. wood from trees. cutting down trees. saws and axes.
Tess switched on the answering machine. God only knew how long it had been flashing; her hand shook so that she was afraid her hand would hit the ‘delete’ button by accident, and perversely eradicate her mother’s voice forever. She knew, without knowing why, that it would be her mother’s voice.
The one who takes a visual record of activities with a camera or other multimedia device. A very important role. Reference to the record is as important as the actual event.
i love recording what I say on a recorder. I think that it is probbly the best way to document memories. I love it. Its better tahn a video camera. To hear a voice saying whatever it wants. Classic. Totally epic. I wish i had a recorder right now. Its awesome I love it. How many times can I say I love it.
I used to play the recorder once – in the 3rd grade. Mr. Nelson taught us how to play. Since it was my first ever musical instrument (or was it the piano??) I got really excited. I was so psyched that I even went to Coquitlam Music and bought my own recorder!
I saw it there… I could not believe my own friend would betray me like that! She was recording my entire conversation! What was I to think? So I got revenge.
Johnny played the recorder like a soft melody through the trees. The sound was a marvel and lured anyone around close to hear the mysterious and soothing sound of Johnny the Recorder player.
There was a little girl who had a recorder and she loved playing on her recorder. She played the high notes, the low notes, and the middle notes. Her little brother tried to play the recorder too, but he wasn’t nearly as good at it as she was. One day her brother tried playing on her pink recorder and he accidentally broke it when she walked into the room, surprising him. The little girl was very sad and did not know what to do.
In fourth grade we had to play RECORDERS those lame ass instruments that sounds like annoying loud whistling…anywho my prof was like lets play Titanic- you know that one song…hhaha it sounded so awful during that “concert” night thing they made us do.
i press the button and it begins to record. I am suddenly out of ideas. my mind is frozen. its like as soon as i know i am being recorded my creativity goes down the drain.
I held the recorder next to my mouth, breathing hard as I thought of the words. “Sixty people… dead. It was horrible. Whoever finds this, remember that Relan City is totally gone. Don’t go there!” I collapsed against the wall and put my head into my hands. Oh Evan. Images of his body filled my mind, blood everywhere and no arms.
Wind and wood. Holes and fingers. What colorful sounds one can make with such a combination. So I ask you, what picture will you paint? So I ask you, what picture will you portray? Art should be painted from the blood of our heart. What part of your heart will you use?
she sat by the recorder. it reminded her of elementary school when all of the instruments were out of tune and the children tried to see who could blow through their recorder the loudest. fond memories that were barely glimpses of her childhood, if only she could have remembered. because that was the beginning of corruption, the beginning of the end.
She learned to play the recorder in the fifth grade. She knew it wasn’t a dignified instrument like the violin or the piano, but she always kept playing, and at the age of twenty-five, it was how she finally won the heart of her first lover.
I had a recorder in a music class once. Pot is good. Mine was blue and sparkled. Crunchy munchy salsa chips. I hated it because I was the only one recording it. You crunchy munchy bunchy. Krunchy kimo 6 o’clock 0okay dokay. First time ever tunded you on. Record it do it do it get it down.
the recorder, for one reason or another, kept on going. it kept track of my every word, my every though. i could have stopped it much sooner. but i didn’t. i wanted someone to hear it. i needed someone to hear it. maybe i’m lying. i’m lying to myself.
I love my voice recorder because it lets me go back in time. It lets me hear the past in many ways. I’d like to be able to put what I record online. I’d like to seize the emotion, the rage, the suspicion, the lies, the truth and make it mine.
The child squeeked through the final notes as her parents listened with tense smiles, bracing for the final blow. Pride was dampened by the grating noise of the recorder played by their 7 year old.
recorders are those instruments that you have to play in elementary school music. I was never very good at it, so when the rest of the class was actually playing, I would fake it and just move my finger on the thing but never really make a noise. I hated the recorder.
the recorder is an instrument used in a band you can play tunes like mary had a little lamb. i would like to be a recorder. the producer type or maybe a star of some sort i always
Oh, recorder recorder..please record her –
Her voice so entrancing and her tome so soothing..
Recorder, record her..
For me to listen
To times when I want to get lost –
In a land of memories and dreams..
waiting to be fulfilled.
I once took a recorder to a show and taped my friends band. The sound was really loud and the singer’s voice was raspy. I have to say though that was one of the most fun things I’ve ever done. That band became the band that opens up for Widespread Panic for one tour. Ha, I have their very first show on tape and noone else on the planet has a copy. Just me.
A breath is the recorder of your thoughts. It catches them before they have time to escape and explode into sound, then carries them to the ground where they shatter into a million little shards of heat and cold.
The ugliest sounds I have ever heard in my life came from a seemingly harmless group of third graders. But make no mistake, each armed with a long, plastic recorder, they were a force to be reckoned with.
the recorder was on. he was silent, hesitant to say the wrong thing. expectant brown eyes were waiting as patiently as possibe, although she had added more than one extra suga cub to the tea she was still stirring. “are you going to tell me?”
I think I already did this one. I thought I would get a new word but, I guess they only do one word a day which is cool. So, I’m not sure what to say so, to quote Christopher Walken “I’ve got a fever and the only cure is more cow bell!”
ONe time in third grade i had a recorder becuaes we were all permitted to have them for music class in elementary school. over the summer I left the recorder on my dewk with the window open. When i came back into my room the recorder had melted into my desk.
a little instrument that you blow into to make a tune. it’s used a lot in primary schools. made of wood. wood from trees. cutting down trees. saws and axes.
the rorder in my hand is having two three uses.. yes one is to record, 2 its its to re record and three is to hear ehat i have recorded
asffffffffffffffffffffffff
Tess switched on the answering machine. God only knew how long it had been flashing; her hand shook so that she was afraid her hand would hit the ‘delete’ button by accident, and perversely eradicate her mother’s voice forever. She knew, without knowing why, that it would be her mother’s voice.
The one who takes a visual record of activities with a camera or other multimedia device. A very important role. Reference to the record is as important as the actual event.
adsfafafa
i love recording what I say on a recorder. I think that it is probbly the best way to document memories. I love it. Its better tahn a video camera. To hear a voice saying whatever it wants. Classic. Totally epic. I wish i had a recorder right now. Its awesome I love it. How many times can I say I love it.
I used to play the recorder once – in the 3rd grade. Mr. Nelson taught us how to play. Since it was my first ever musical instrument (or was it the piano??) I got really excited. I was so psyched that I even went to Coquitlam Music and bought my own recorder!
Yes, I am a music geek.
I saw it there… I could not believe my own friend would betray me like that! She was recording my entire conversation! What was I to think? So I got revenge.
thin reedy sound like wind in trees woodwind children’s band whistles on an orange parade angel bad deeds good dees? inescapable nemesis fate karma
Johnny played the recorder like a soft melody through the trees. The sound was a marvel and lured anyone around close to hear the mysterious and soothing sound of Johnny the Recorder player.
The voice crackled through the speaker from the recorder, and it was difficult to understand what was said.
“Several dead…bomb exploded…cities all over the world destroyed.”
Who could have done this?
There was a little girl who had a recorder and she loved playing on her recorder. She played the high notes, the low notes, and the middle notes. Her little brother tried to play the recorder too, but he wasn’t nearly as good at it as she was. One day her brother tried playing on her pink recorder and he accidentally broke it when she walked into the room, surprising him. The little girl was very sad and did not know what to do.
In fourth grade we had to play RECORDERS those lame ass instruments that sounds like annoying loud whistling…anywho my prof was like lets play Titanic- you know that one song…hhaha it sounded so awful during that “concert” night thing they made us do.
5 years at school and one book records all that is meant to sum up those presious years the recorder
I got spanked hard. Worse than a three year old throwing a temper tantrum.
“You’re a complete bitch. Why don’t you go fu-“
She pressed stop, a small sign of mercy on her part.
“Believe me now?”
“Yeah. Whatever. I gotta go.”
“You always do when you’re cornered.”
i press the button and it begins to record. I am suddenly out of ideas. my mind is frozen. its like as soon as i know i am being recorded my creativity goes down the drain.
I held the recorder next to my mouth, breathing hard as I thought of the words. “Sixty people… dead. It was horrible. Whoever finds this, remember that Relan City is totally gone. Don’t go there!” I collapsed against the wall and put my head into my hands. Oh Evan. Images of his body filled my mind, blood everywhere and no arms.
Wind and wood. Holes and fingers. What colorful sounds one can make with such a combination. So I ask you, what picture will you paint? So I ask you, what picture will you portray? Art should be painted from the blood of our heart. What part of your heart will you use?
she sat by the recorder. it reminded her of elementary school when all of the instruments were out of tune and the children tried to see who could blow through their recorder the loudest. fond memories that were barely glimpses of her childhood, if only she could have remembered. because that was the beginning of corruption, the beginning of the end.
an instrument with holes in it like a flute or wood wind instrument taught in third grade.
musical instrument device similar to that of a clarinet, learned from third grade.
the music never stops
close your eyes
you realise
it is the aria of life
She learned to play the recorder in the fifth grade. She knew it wasn’t a dignified instrument like the violin or the piano, but she always kept playing, and at the age of twenty-five, it was how she finally won the heart of her first lover.
I had a recorder in a music class once. Pot is good. Mine was blue and sparkled. Crunchy munchy salsa chips. I hated it because I was the only one recording it. You crunchy munchy bunchy. Krunchy kimo 6 o’clock 0okay dokay. First time ever tunded you on. Record it do it do it get it down.
when i was in fifth grade my teacher used a tape recorder in class. It was very interesting to hear our voices played back to us.
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the recorder, for one reason or another, kept on going. it kept track of my every word, my every though. i could have stopped it much sooner. but i didn’t. i wanted someone to hear it. i needed someone to hear it. maybe i’m lying. i’m lying to myself.
I love my voice recorder because it lets me go back in time. It lets me hear the past in many ways. I’d like to be able to put what I record online. I’d like to seize the emotion, the rage, the suspicion, the lies, the truth and make it mine.
The child squeeked through the final notes as her parents listened with tense smiles, bracing for the final blow. Pride was dampened by the grating noise of the recorder played by their 7 year old.
recorders are those instruments that you have to play in elementary school music. I was never very good at it, so when the rest of the class was actually playing, I would fake it and just move my finger on the thing but never really make a noise. I hated the recorder.
the recorder is an instrument used in a band you can play tunes like mary had a little lamb. i would like to be a recorder. the producer type or maybe a star of some sort i always
recorder
Oh, recorder recorder..please record her –
Her voice so entrancing and her tome so soothing..
Recorder, record her..
For me to listen
To times when I want to get lost –
In a land of memories and dreams..
waiting to be fulfilled.
I once took a recorder to a show and taped my friends band. The sound was really loud and the singer’s voice was raspy. I have to say though that was one of the most fun things I’ve ever done. That band became the band that opens up for Widespread Panic for one tour. Ha, I have their very first show on tape and noone else on the planet has a copy. Just me.
A breath is the recorder of your thoughts. It catches them before they have time to escape and explode into sound, then carries them to the ground where they shatter into a million little shards of heat and cold.
The ugliest sounds I have ever heard in my life came from a seemingly harmless group of third graders. But make no mistake, each armed with a long, plastic recorder, they were a force to be reckoned with.
the recorder was on. he was silent, hesitant to say the wrong thing. expectant brown eyes were waiting as patiently as possibe, although she had added more than one extra suga cub to the tea she was still stirring. “are you going to tell me?”
I think I already did this one. I thought I would get a new word but, I guess they only do one word a day which is cool. So, I’m not sure what to say so, to quote Christopher Walken “I’ve got a fever and the only cure is more cow bell!”
ONe time in third grade i had a recorder becuaes we were all permitted to have them for music class in elementary school. over the summer I left the recorder on my dewk with the window open. When i came back into my room the recorder had melted into my desk.