It was early 1981, and I was with a group of friends at a loft in New York City.

It was a dinner party with, I think, about six, maybe eight of us around the big table.

Doug Welch was there, too. Through the huge windows, we could see the lights of the Empire

State Building. Rosary candles flickered on a curved bookcase that separated the living room from the

bedroom. These gatherings always went late. We were all artists, so we talked about our work, politics,

and how we were surviving in the city. The host was a man named

Alan. Toward the end of the dinner as it was wrapping up, Alan just sort of casually said,

would anyone like to hear the latest that came in today from Apology? Apology was Alan's

newest project.

Doug's girlfriend Carrie vaguely remembered

it had something to do with people calling a phone line?

Alan held up a cassette tape.

Alan was standing and sort of gesticulating and, yeah, he was excited.

And we all kind of said, well, sure.

Alan walked over to his cassette player,

popped in the tape, and turned out the lights.

First, we listened to what every person

who called Alan's phone line would hear,

an outgoing message in Alan's deadpan voice.

This is apology.

Apology is not associated with the police or any other organization,

but rather is a way for you to tell people what you have done wrong and how you feel about it.

...