Adam Andrews

I found this tape recording transcript from 1958. It’s a lot to unpack. My apologies for any brutality. Read at your own discretion. Here is the latest update: Data Entry 2 - The House He answers the phone. His voice is distant and reverberated.  “Yeah… Ok. Why did you call me? You know I’m busy.” Heavy breathing. “Of course he cried. What do you mean, ‘did it feel good?’ What kind of question is that? I can’t believe you asked me that… Of course it felt good. I enjoyed every second of it.” More breathing. “Yeah… Uh-huh. Yep. She’s here. She can’t talk right now or move, but she’s here.” Momentary silence. “Look, man, I’ll tell ya all about it later. I’m kinda in the middle of something right now.” Clears his throat. “Ok… Yeah… Out at the farm. Sounds good. I’ll meet you out there later. Me?… Yeah… never been better. No worries. I’m fine… Look, man, I have to go. I’ll talk to you about it later. Ok. Bye.” Walks back to the table. Lights another cigarette. “Damn! What the shit? Last...

  SCREWDRIVER A series of excerpts. by Adam Andrews. Copyright©2025Andrews. All Rights Reserved  I found this transcript. Looks like it’s from a tape recording from 1958. It’s a lot to unpack. It gets brutal at times, so I apologize in advance. Read at your own discretion. Here is the first entry: Data Entry 1 - Introduction  A tape player slowly starts; it lags a bit. Low hissing eases into a softer, quieter, white noise, a little bit scratchy, and then it thins out into clean air. There’s the flip of a light switch and the clink of a lone, bare bulb turning on. It’s hanging on a wire in the center of the room. A man clears his throat. Breathes deeply. Lets out a long, slow exhale. Taps on the recording device. “Good… it’s on.” Scratching noises; the flick of a lighter lighting up.  Puffs. He takes several short, quick drags on a cigarette. Long, slow exhale.  Footsteps walk away from the microphone. Another drag. Wooden chair legs scuff across a plank wooden f...