Analog time warp

Last night I was working on a mixtape. Is a sentence that I haven't said in at least 15 years.

Earlier that day, in therapy, I was talking about feeling fragmented, feeling like I've been so many different people over the course of my life who might not even recognize each other. I said it is hard to see a single thread running through my personal history.

Then, listening to tapes I had made in college with friends, I found one called "That's Probably the Cops," a recorded jam session that included improvised lyrics about our friend Jeffrey, Descartes, and feminist theory. I heard myself singing, talking in funny voices, playing my recorder, and laughing the way I do when I'm also falling over part way. I knew that person and recognized them as me. And I laughed til I fell part way over.

My fellow mixtapers and I were talking later in the evening about the cassette tape and how maddening it is because it's so linear. We're so used to skipping tracks with a click or a tap. But on a tape I had found a direct portal between college me and last night me, and I felt a little more whole.

Haiku for April 29, 1996

I like recorders
Plastic and tuneless and shrill
They're instruments, too

Update! Here is a picture of a young Bjork playing the recorder.