Franklyn Monk's Dronecast
Franklyn Monk's Dronecast
Franklyn Monk
Stress Response
1 minutes Posted Mar 26, 2017 at 8:42 pm.
0:00
1:20
Download MP3
Show notes

Yeah, ok, if I keep putting out these small, non-drone-y, items, I may have to create a new feed for them. But, I don’t produce a lot of content, and it may be fun to have random small things appear, little rocks in the stream.

And…I did it before, these little stepping stones between realities, I called them microcasts…but I had some weird rule that they had to be under, I don’t know, some absurdly small number of seconds, a handful. And one of them, an enhanced podcast, went nuts.

Oh, that was the other thing, microcasts were all going to be enhanced, but there’s a couple weird edge cases where a very short enhanced podcast with a bunch of hires graphics and chapters goes nuts with some podcast directories and aggregators.

Then Apple effectively doomed the format by removing the functionality from GarageBand. Probably for the better, if you’re going to do an enhanced podcast you might as well do a video. Which is what I’ve started doing…I’m getting better.

Anyway, here’s me losing my shit at this guy that started following me, across a vacant lot, middle of the night.

Walking back from the store when I hear drunk clapping and hollering a ways down. Goes on for a while before I decide to record—it’s always good to capture a rowdy voice.

And it goes quiet almost instantly, I’m almost disappointed, but that’s just the nature of field recording, you’re never quick enough.

The rowdy clapping is back,

And closer
And following me
When it reaches the other side of the street I turn and confront
the potbellied man
I yell. He stumbles back, and keeps coming.
I shout NO! And he ambles away.
I watch for a few minutes, make sure he’s gone before I move on.
He looks back a couple times, mumbling about how he was going to invite me to his camp by the dumpster, and oh my, and fuck you, before vanishing in the shadows.

On the way there, a bicycle comes weaving up the street at me and asks if I wanavotel. Takes me a few, but, no, I don’t need a bottle, I wave him off, I’m good.