Recording of Heapers' Voices

Corvina · 2013-12-22 12:34:58

Here are some recordings of my voice:

The first stanza of Coleridge's 'Kubla Khan': http://vocaroo.com/i/s1rHrGULSqYk
Keats' 'To Autumn': http://vocaroo.com/i/s1HWBxIOSYa5
Eliot's 'Prufrock': http://vocaroo.com/i/s1OTRYSR8WsE

Miss Miko Mayonegg · 2013-12-22 13:24:33

Record audio or upload mp3 >>

Corvina · 2013-12-22 16:38:01

Um, Miko, you just linked to vocaroo, not to the link it provided you

Miss Miko Mayonegg · 2013-12-22 16:52:59

oh... I see the player that I embedded. :o

Imipolex G · 2013-12-22 23:19:38

did you say "meow"

Miss Miko Mayonegg · 2013-12-22 23:20:30

:)

Imipolex G · 2013-12-22 23:21:17

:o

glennmagusharvey · 2013-12-23 02:16:58

http://vocaroo.com/i/s1twMiZNeYdl

http://vocaroo.com/i/s14N9rv0U3xh

http://vocaroo.com/i/s03aSqMTM2jY

http://vocaroo.com/i/s0ap8CRAGdA0

http://vocaroo.com/i/s0Jql1ryCHpk

What? You never said my normal speaking voice.

Miss Miko Mayonegg · 2013-12-23 02:26:55

A+

Hexartes · 2013-12-23 14:51:19

I can't see Miko's either.

Aliroz · 2013-12-23 15:30:15

As soon as I get a sound recorder for christmas that isn't a pen (That's only for school), I'll post a recording of myself talking.

Haven · 2013-12-23 16:29:41

Miko said:
Record audio or upload mp3 >>

Aww.

Tre · 2013-12-23 19:20:16

Ever had to rely on a ceiling fan for entertainment purposes?
Not the most fun way to pass the time, I'd say.
But it's half past midnight on some weekday in November, I forget which one, and I find myself doing so, mostly out of a lack of desire to knock myself out.
It might sound irresponsible, not sleeping at a late hour like that, but in my defense, I had a long power nap not too long before. High school tends to make one lose control of their REM schedules.
Anyway, I'm steady watching the fan, while also thinking stupid thoughts about the infinite possibilities this hour has in store-- that is, for those who aren't imprisoned in their rooms by traditional social norms. Meanwhile, the "sane ones" like myself are trapped, doomed to live out their nights with one of two options: either A) sleep, or B) ennui, and since I wasn't tired I was forced to deal with the latter.
The stupid fan's mocking me, all the while. There it stands, the centerpiece of my room's flat upper surface, as content with itself as any non-sentient object could be, and the more I watch the blasted thing make its conceited rotations, the more I feel the need to get away from it.
And that's when I hear a sound not unlike that of glass being tapped.