I don't usually write on this blog on the weekend, but you don't usually read it at all, so we're both being unusual. What else can we do? Gasoline costs too much to drink all day long! Might as well read blogs!
Know what else you can do? You can listen to this week's Self Help Radio podcast, which is all about hypnosis. Not only are there fancy dan songs about hypnosis but also the host & founder of Self Help Radio, Carlos Mencia, gets hypnotized on the air! Oh wait, Mr Mencia is not hosting this week. Someone named Gary is.
In any event, the show is available like it always is at selfhelpradio.net. Listen to it all weekend long. It may help you quit smoking. Or even start smoking.
I also wanted to write today because this is my 399th post to the blog, & I have a special memorial to write about for my 400th post. It turns out that I have to memorialize a loved one on Memorial Day. Weird sadnesses have conspired with mild triumphs to make it really a Memorial Day. See you then.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
Friday, May 23, 2008
Lonesomer Friday
A famous hypnotist walks into a bar. A not-so-famous hypnotist walks into a bar. A dude with those weird x-ray glasses with the hypno wheel on them which don't really work walks into a bar. A bar is open, a bar is closed.
More & more, life seems to contain more & more of stuff which I apparently said, felt & did, but to which I have increasingly less access. More than hypnotism, I think I'd like to have someone pump energy into my hypothalamus like they did on a recent episode of House. Whether it works on not, who know, but now I will be expecting to have lucid dreams/memories in high definition color.
Tomorrow I will have a new podcast for you - & this one will be very good I hope you know - & also rather silly - so please look around to find it & enjoy it on your Memorial Day weekend. Days off are good for listening to weirdoes & their radio shows. I would do it if I knew some weirdoes on the radio. Where have they gone I wonder? All the weirdoes?
You know where one of them is, at least! Have a good weekend!
More & more, life seems to contain more & more of stuff which I apparently said, felt & did, but to which I have increasingly less access. More than hypnotism, I think I'd like to have someone pump energy into my hypothalamus like they did on a recent episode of House. Whether it works on not, who know, but now I will be expecting to have lucid dreams/memories in high definition color.
Tomorrow I will have a new podcast for you - & this one will be very good I hope you know - & also rather silly - so please look around to find it & enjoy it on your Memorial Day weekend. Days off are good for listening to weirdoes & their radio shows. I would do it if I knew some weirdoes on the radio. Where have they gone I wonder? All the weirdoes?
You know where one of them is, at least! Have a good weekend!
Thursday, May 22, 2008
Game Is The Name Of The Lame
I really enjoy making the Self Help Radio Extra mixes. If I didn't enjoy hunting down music for the Self Help Radio themes, I might just make weekly mixes. As it stands, I try to make time to make the best mixes, but even leaving the radio station that seemed to take up half my life hasn't really freed up my time - I find other things to do.
I wanted to have a new Extra mix up today, but instead I've been listening to records on how to hypnotize yourself for the next podcast. So I'll try to have the mix up this time next week. I'm lame. I'm really lame.
Speaking of, no one's very excited about my upcoming four hundredth post on this blog. One person sent me a link to a blog that was started around the same time as this one that has over a thousand posts. Imagine! Granted, the posts tend to be more links & they're smaller. Imagine! Also, they have nothing to do with a radio show/podcast the blogger does. Imagine! It also has pitchers of nekkid wimmen. Imagine! Should I find some wimmen for post four hundred & take pitchers of them nekkid? I might get more hits. I might lose the missus. Wow that's a lame pun. Especially since I'm not married. Also, I have no pitchers of wimmen anywhere, & none of those (I'll presume) have any nekkidness involved. Imagine!
Then I'm not going to make a big deal about the four hundredth post. What, am I crazy? 400 posts! That's amazing!
Wow, I'm lame. But this week's show will rock!
I wanted to have a new Extra mix up today, but instead I've been listening to records on how to hypnotize yourself for the next podcast. So I'll try to have the mix up this time next week. I'm lame. I'm really lame.
Speaking of, no one's very excited about my upcoming four hundredth post on this blog. One person sent me a link to a blog that was started around the same time as this one that has over a thousand posts. Imagine! Granted, the posts tend to be more links & they're smaller. Imagine! Also, they have nothing to do with a radio show/podcast the blogger does. Imagine! It also has pitchers of nekkid wimmen. Imagine! Should I find some wimmen for post four hundred & take pitchers of them nekkid? I might get more hits. I might lose the missus. Wow that's a lame pun. Especially since I'm not married. Also, I have no pitchers of wimmen anywhere, & none of those (I'll presume) have any nekkidness involved. Imagine!
Then I'm not going to make a big deal about the four hundredth post. What, am I crazy? 400 posts! That's amazing!
Wow, I'm lame. But this week's show will rock!
Wednesday, May 21, 2008
Whither Hypnosis?
I know what you're thinking. I'm going to hypnotize you & make you act like a chicken. Or worse, I'm going to make you act like a naked chicken. Or worst, I'm going to act like a naked chicken while you're hypnotized. Nothing could be farther from the truth! I want to hypnotize you to help you quit smoking. Eating too much. Wetting your bed. Biting your nails. Masturbating. Believing in God. Popping pills. Short-changing the customers. Wrestling with your demons. Mistaking sex for love. Running for office. Randomizing. Stuff like that.
You don't have to be afraid! Here, go visit this vaguely mystical-looking website to read some common myths of hypnosis. There! Doesn't that make you feel better? Hey, if a place called "deeptrancenow.com" says hypnosis is all right, it must be all right!
Listen, tootsie pop, it's just a radio show featuring songs & information about hypnosis. It's not scary! It's an adventure! I have spent the last seventy-two hours implanting auto-suggestions in-between the more comforting notes of all the peppiest songs I'll play on this week's Self Help Radio. But that's nothing compared to the subliminal messages in your average episode of "60 Minutes." & that doesn't include the truly terrifying pharmaceutical ads. I stress again: these messages are for your self-improvement, not for your embarrassment. They may make me laugh, but they're not a laughing matter. I know that. You know I know that.
You are feeling very sleepy. It must be the light of the computer monitor. It makes me tired, too. Please don't read any websites right now about politics. Read instead some calming stories about zombies. Zombies rule! But they're not hypnotized, & neither are you.
When I snap my fingers, you'll wake up & feel refreshed. Your head will be lighter & so will your wallet. Follow the lights on the floor to the door & exit onto the street going left.
You don't have to be afraid! Here, go visit this vaguely mystical-looking website to read some common myths of hypnosis. There! Doesn't that make you feel better? Hey, if a place called "deeptrancenow.com" says hypnosis is all right, it must be all right!
Listen, tootsie pop, it's just a radio show featuring songs & information about hypnosis. It's not scary! It's an adventure! I have spent the last seventy-two hours implanting auto-suggestions in-between the more comforting notes of all the peppiest songs I'll play on this week's Self Help Radio. But that's nothing compared to the subliminal messages in your average episode of "60 Minutes." & that doesn't include the truly terrifying pharmaceutical ads. I stress again: these messages are for your self-improvement, not for your embarrassment. They may make me laugh, but they're not a laughing matter. I know that. You know I know that.
You are feeling very sleepy. It must be the light of the computer monitor. It makes me tired, too. Please don't read any websites right now about politics. Read instead some calming stories about zombies. Zombies rule! But they're not hypnotized, & neither are you.
When I snap my fingers, you'll wake up & feel refreshed. Your head will be lighter & so will your wallet. Follow the lights on the floor to the door & exit onto the street going left.
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
Preface To Hypnosis: I Can't Hypnotize But I Can Mesmerize
Messages left in tiny boxes in front of houses in my neighborhood (which are not, by the way, for me) speak of cynicism & gloom: they warn of dissolving marriages, shockingly lowered values on recently-appraised homes, noisier dogs sneaked in during the night, a party which may cause inconvenience come Thursday. Was there ever a time when these notices spoke of happy things, like births, or career advancement, or just general good news? Who knows - &, again, I'm not supposed to be reading them.
If one walks a straight line from the edge of the driveway to the edge of the curb where one stands to wait for the bus, one naturally must walk through houses, back yards, flower beds, storage sheds, over cars & fences, past angry home owners with guns & sharp tongues, into & out of a few businesses, across one busy street & at least two or three not-so-busy ones. This is true about all the nearby bus stops, not just the one I take to get to work every day. Even the bus stops that lead away from my work. There is no straight line away from my house to any bus stop.
That makes me very, very nervous. Anxiety is an old friend, but as I get older, I can imagine the nerves fraying, like sleeves or tassels, until they're just dangling, fraught, always in motion. It's no wonder I sneak glances into the little boxes which hold the messages for others in the neighborhood - for the uptight effeminate fellow & his perfumed dog; for the happy couple with the motorized, air-conditioned stroller for their new sprog; for the grumpy old conservative & his solid gold walker, slowly making his day-long trip up the block & back; for even the visitors, solicitors or stalkers, who pretend they're part of this neighborhood & who everyone else pretends are a part of this neighborhood.
I couldn't tell you why I am disconnected in this way. I smile, sometimes I wave, but the people who live around me often turn off their lights & close up their trees when I pass. I cannot say if it's just that they dislike me or if I committed some kind of offense. I want to say to them, "But I bought the house! I do not rent! I do not lease! I mow my own lawn & put up my own Christmas lights! Look! Look! It's my name on the mail! It's my name on the magazines!" But what good would that do? Surely those who reject me have closed their ears like their minds & they can't hear a word I say. Just the sound of my footsteps trailing into the loneliness of my home.
The noise you hear is the neighborhood sharpening its teeth. The noise you don't hear is my television turning off as I look out my picture window & fall asleep staring into the street. The night comes, the night goes. All manner of things happen, usually, & usually you don't need to pay attention. The power goes off & the houses empty as we all look to see if it's a community event, & not something ridiculous like someone forgetting to pay their bills. We ask the questions, we stand around, we stare at each other's lawns, cars, for sale signs, political candidate signs, dying trees, edged shrubs, boxes of recycling. Then the power comes on again. We go back inside.
Something starts all over again. Something never ended. Something never began.
If one walks a straight line from the edge of the driveway to the edge of the curb where one stands to wait for the bus, one naturally must walk through houses, back yards, flower beds, storage sheds, over cars & fences, past angry home owners with guns & sharp tongues, into & out of a few businesses, across one busy street & at least two or three not-so-busy ones. This is true about all the nearby bus stops, not just the one I take to get to work every day. Even the bus stops that lead away from my work. There is no straight line away from my house to any bus stop.
That makes me very, very nervous. Anxiety is an old friend, but as I get older, I can imagine the nerves fraying, like sleeves or tassels, until they're just dangling, fraught, always in motion. It's no wonder I sneak glances into the little boxes which hold the messages for others in the neighborhood - for the uptight effeminate fellow & his perfumed dog; for the happy couple with the motorized, air-conditioned stroller for their new sprog; for the grumpy old conservative & his solid gold walker, slowly making his day-long trip up the block & back; for even the visitors, solicitors or stalkers, who pretend they're part of this neighborhood & who everyone else pretends are a part of this neighborhood.
I couldn't tell you why I am disconnected in this way. I smile, sometimes I wave, but the people who live around me often turn off their lights & close up their trees when I pass. I cannot say if it's just that they dislike me or if I committed some kind of offense. I want to say to them, "But I bought the house! I do not rent! I do not lease! I mow my own lawn & put up my own Christmas lights! Look! Look! It's my name on the mail! It's my name on the magazines!" But what good would that do? Surely those who reject me have closed their ears like their minds & they can't hear a word I say. Just the sound of my footsteps trailing into the loneliness of my home.
The noise you hear is the neighborhood sharpening its teeth. The noise you don't hear is my television turning off as I look out my picture window & fall asleep staring into the street. The night comes, the night goes. All manner of things happen, usually, & usually you don't need to pay attention. The power goes off & the houses empty as we all look to see if it's a community event, & not something ridiculous like someone forgetting to pay their bills. We ask the questions, we stand around, we stare at each other's lawns, cars, for sale signs, political candidate signs, dying trees, edged shrubs, boxes of recycling. Then the power comes on again. We go back inside.
Something starts all over again. Something never ended. Something never began.
Monday, May 19, 2008
Another Non-Random Show Notification On Your Otherwise Spotless Corkboard
Posted this weekend: Self Help Radio show number - er - I mean Jesus I don't know what frickin' number show it is - it's the show about lemons. It's available where you normally find Self Help Radio podcasts & archived versions of the old radio show: both in my head & at selfhelpradio.net.
I want to add that you can certainly keep those suggestions coming about what I should do special for my 400th post on this blog. "Nude photos of my cats" is certainly a hilarious option, especially since they're perverts, but they have their own blog so you can already see them. "Free access to this blog for life" seemed a little smart-alecky until I realized someone could make the argument that "free access" means I have to pay their ISP bills. Fat chance!
But I do believe the four hundredth post should be exciting, special, awesome, tacky, windswept, consumptive, cricket & rad, so I am still taking suggestions. Number 400 (wow, like the hit film!) should break some time next week. I suggest you plan your parties now!
But don't forget the point of today's notice: a show about lemons at selfhelpradio.net! Have some with your afternoon tea!
I want to add that you can certainly keep those suggestions coming about what I should do special for my 400th post on this blog. "Nude photos of my cats" is certainly a hilarious option, especially since they're perverts, but they have their own blog so you can already see them. "Free access to this blog for life" seemed a little smart-alecky until I realized someone could make the argument that "free access" means I have to pay their ISP bills. Fat chance!
But I do believe the four hundredth post should be exciting, special, awesome, tacky, windswept, consumptive, cricket & rad, so I am still taking suggestions. Number 400 (wow, like the hit film!) should break some time next week. I suggest you plan your parties now!
But don't forget the point of today's notice: a show about lemons at selfhelpradio.net! Have some with your afternoon tea!