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While he was at the music store, he also checked out some MIDI-keyboards.  He wasn't too concerned about the quality of the voices for the keyboard, since they all had better voices than the keyboard he had and since he would be using it as an input device mainly.  He was holding off on the purchase still, because he did want to get a decent keyboard, even though he really didn't know how to play more than a few phrases without messing up.  It would suit his purposes during recording though, especially for loop creation and sampling.  Besides, he'd get much more practice and probably get better at playing the keyboard he'd get because he'd enjoy the sounds that it made much more.  Eventually, he might be able to compose complex songs on the keyboard that he might be able to play live.  That wouldn't be soon though.  Again, he was strapped for cash.

Philip walked home. He lived in a small, cheap apartment but it was a two-bedroom.  He used the second room for his music and computer room.  It wasn't a very nice complex but it was adequate and affordable.  It was insulated poorly and in the middle of the city, so night was the only time when Philip could record without a lot of noise.  There was a short window between about eight and ten that he figured was safe to get reasonably loud, when he could record without distraction as well.  Frankly, his neighbors wouldn't have ever cared if he got loud anyway.  There weren't any other renters in the apartments on any side.  He still didn't get loud very often, though.

When he got home, he walked in and set down his new strings, glass slide and picks and put the new CD in the computer, to auto-play.  He went to the kitchen to get a drink. 

Philip looked at the pizza box in the fridge as he was putting the soda bottle back.  He'd brought home some pizza the day before.  It was pepperoni, Italian sausage and jalepeño on a hand tossed crust with extra cheese.  He could hear the first track of Sally's CD, which was the single he'd heard that morning.   He decided that he wasn't hungry yet but that he'd eat it in a while.  He walked into the bedroom and changed out of his work clothes, which he threw in the dirty clothes hamper.  There was a laundry facility on the first floor and he thought that tonight might be a good night to do some laundry.

He put on some jeans and grabbed a T-shirt that said, "Florida" on it.  It was worn and faded.  He'd gotten it from his brother, who'd  bought it at the Millennium New Years show that Phish played in Florida at the Big Cypress Seminole Indian Reservation. 

Philip went into the bathroom and cleaned his hands and face, taking out his contacts, and turned on the faucet in the tub.  He bent over the side of the tub to wash his hair.  When he was done, he dried his hair so that it was barely damp and put on his glasses after putting on the T-shirt.

Somewhat refreshed, he walked into the living room and grabbed his guitar and sat on the couch.  He had his apartment wired so he could hear his music playing from his old computer.  He could turn it off too, with a remote control, when he was in the computer room and didn't want music playing in the rest of the apartment.

After picking out some melodies from Sally's CD, Philip set the guitar down, strings against the cushions of the couch, resting the bottom against the coffee table for stability, so it wouldn't fall over.  He turned on the television and changed the station to his favorite channel.  It was a commercial.  He put it on mute and started digging through the most recent papers of interest, which sat in a box next to his coffee table.  He hadn't started coding a single thing yet besides a couple of test programs which used some of the program assemblies that he'd gathered for use with the new computer.  It occurred to him that teaching the bot programming languages should be no different than teaching it natural languages.  In fact it would probably be easier. By providing information on the commands available in a given language, with tutorials, examples, compiled programs, resources and a compiler program, the computer should have enough for it to figure out how to compile source code into executables and dynamically linked library (DLL) assemblies.  The phrase, "Data Mining" came to mind.