Radio, Radio….

I’ve decided to try some audio – nothing fancy (granted, I just spent an hour+ goofing around with Garage Band). Just a recording of A Winged Dream. Thought it was fitting, since my father loved when I read to him, and this is about him.

Bear in mind: like you do yours, I cannot really abide the sound of my own voice. It’s one of the weirdest of the human conditions. Hoping you don’t feel the same way about how I sound.

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About Martin

I'm just... filling time.
This entry was posted in Father, Poem, poetry, Spoken Word and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

One Response to Radio, Radio….

  1. Pingback: Etruscan Angst | Writer Moe

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