Arkansan Speaks Episode 2

Arkansan Speaks Episode 2.

Interview with Megan. She read over a hundred books in 2016.

Link is here:  http://bit.ly/2pHU0gj

Instructions for Downloading:

Click on the link: http://bit.ly/2pHU0gj   It will take you to the website Dropbox. When you get to Dropbox, look for the download drop down icon in the top right corner (it may say Download or be a picture of an arrow pointing down). Click that and choose Direct Download, or it will just start the download automatically. It’s an MP3 file perfect for listening to on your phone. Or you can just listen to it directly from the Dropbox website. Comment below if you have any problems listening/downloading so I can fix it. I can send it to you directly if need be. Thanks!

 

 

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Arkansan Speaks Episode 1: Grandma Interview

Arkansan Speaks Episode 1

I interviewed my grandmother over Thanksgiving in 2015.

She tells a funny story about me as a child. Link is here:  http://bit.ly/2skBWOz

Instructions for downloading:

Click on the link: http://bit.ly/2skBWOz    It will take you to the website Dropbox. When you get to Dropbox, look for the download drop down icon in the top right corner (it may say Download or be a picture of an arrow pointing down). Click that and choose Direct Download, or it will just start the download automatically. It’s an MP3 file perfect for listening to on your phone. Or you can just listen to it directly from the Dropbox website. Comment below if you have any problems listening/downloading so I can fix it. I can send it to you directly if need be. Thanks!

Nanaw Carolyn

Dreams

Excerpt by Michael Chabon:

I hate dreams. Dreams are the Sea Monkeys of consciousness: in the back pages of sleep they promise us teeming submarine palaces but leave us, on waking, with a hermetic residue of freeze-dried dust. The wisdom of dreams is a fortune on paper that you can’t cash out, an oasis of shimmering water that turns, when you wake up, to a mouthful of sand. I hate them for their absurdities and deferrals, their endlessly broken promise to amount to something, by and by. I hate them for the way they ransack memory, jumbling treasure and trash. I hate them for their tedium, how they drag on, peter out, wander off.

Pretty much the only thing I hate more than my own dreams are yours. “I was flying over Lake Michigan in a pink Cessna,” you begin, “only it wasn’t really Lake Michigan…,” and I sink, cobwebbed, beneath a drifting dust of boredom.

Michael Chabon