by Schadenfreude » Fri 11 Apr 2008, 03:09:31
all! I'm so impressed with Dragon NaturallySpeaking voice recognition software. I'm actually using it to write this post right now. I just snagged it today and I'm still getting used to it learning the commands etc..
I just noticed that I can actually write posts on Peak oil.com. So I'm utterly flabbergasted.
I pretty much read in my normal voice at normal speed may be speaking just a little bit more clearly than usual. The following piece of literature, Joseph Conrad's almayer's Folly.
Obviously, you get a few mistakes here and there and you have to go back and correct them, which the software makes possible. But it isn't too difficult.
In this post, I haven't gone back and changed anything except for the quote from almayer is where I had to go in show at how to spell out Almayer, Makassar, Hudig, etc. and in the quoted piece, I was more careful to say punctuation very specifically. Probably most of the mistakes are my just getting used to the software. The software is probably so much more capable, and I'm only using a really cheap Logitech USB headset as a microphone, but isn't this funk and cool, what?
$this->bbcode_second_pass_quote('Almayer's Folly', 'C')hapter 1.
"Kaspar! Makan!"
The well-known shrill voice startled Almayer from his dream of splendid future into the unpleasant realities of the present our an unpleasant voice to. He had heard it for many years, and when every year he liked it less. No matter: there would be an end to all this soon.
He shuffled uneasily, but took no further notice of the call. Leaning with both his elbows on the balustrade of the veranda, he went on looking fixedly at the great river that flowed -- in different and hurried -- before his eyes. He liked to look at it about the time of sunset; perhaps because at that time the sinking sun would spread a glowing gold tinge on the waters of the anti-, and I'll Almayer his thoughts were often busy with gold; gold he had failed to secure; gold, the others had secured -- dishonestly, of course -- or gold he meant to secure yet, through his own honest exertions, for himself and Nina. He absorbed himself and his dream of wealth and power away from this coast where you dwelt for so many years, forgetting the bitterness of toil and strife in the vision of a great and splendid reward. They would live in Europe, he and his daughter. They would be rich and respected. Nobody would think of her mixed blood in the presence of her great beauty in of his immense wealth. Witnessing her triumphs he would grow young again, he would forget the 25 years of heartbreaking struggle on this coast where he felt like a prisoner. All this was nearly within his reach. Let only Dane return! In return, soon, he must -- -- in his own interest, for his own share. He was now more than a week late! Perhaps he would return tonight. Such were almayer his thoughts as, standing on the veranda of his new but already decaying house -- -- that last failure of his life -- -- he looked on the broad River. There was no tinge of gold on it this evening, for it been swollen by the rains, and rolled and angry and muddy flood under his inattentive eyes, carrying small driftwood and big deadlocks, and whole uprooted trees with branches in foliage, amongst which the water swirled roared angrily. It's one of those drifting trees grounded on the shelving shore, just buy the house, and almayer, neglecting his dream, watched it with languid interest. The tree swung slowly round, amid the hiss and foam of the water, and soon getting free of the obstruction again to move downstream again, rolling slowly over, raising upwards along, denuded branch, like a hand lifted in mute appeal to heaven against the river's brutal and unnecessary violence. Almayer his interest in the fate of that tree increased rapidly. He leaned over to see if it would clear the low point below. It did; and he drew back, thinking that now its course was freed down to the sea, and he envied the lot of that inanimate thing. Now growing small and indistinct in the deepening darkness. As he lost sight of it altogether he began to wonder how far out at sea he would drift. When the current carry it north or south! South, probably, till it drifted in sight of the Celebes, as far as Macassar, perhaps!
Makassar! Almayer's is quickened fancy distance to the tree on its imaginary voyage, but his memory lagging behind some 20 years or more in point of time saw a young and Slim Almayer clad all in white and models looking landing from the Dutch mail boat on the dusty jetty of Makassar, coming to woo fortune in the gut bounds of Hudig. It was an important applet in his life, the beginning of a new existence for him. His father, a subordinate official employed in the Botanical Gardens Buitenzorg, was no doubt delighted to place his son in such a firm. The young man himself to was nothing loss to leave the poisonous shores of job, and the meager comforts of the parental bungalow, where the father grumbled all day at the stupidity of native gardeners, and the mother from the depths of her long easy chair bewailed the lost glories of Amsterdam, where she had been brought up, and other position as the daughter of a cigar dealer there.
Almayer had left his home with a light heart and a lighter pocket, speaking English well, and strong in arithmetic; ready to conquer the world, never doubting that he would.
After those 20 years, standing in the close and stifling heat of a born in the evening, he recalled with pleasurable regret the image of hudig's lofty and cool warehouses with their long and straight avenues of gin cases and bales of Manchester goods; the big door swinging noiselessly; the dim light of the place, so delightful after the glare of the streets; the little railed off spaces amongst piles of merchandise for the Chinese clerks, neat, cool, and sad eyed, wrote rapidly and in silence amidst the din of the working gangs rolling tasks were shifting cases to a muttered song, ending with a desperate yell.