The last time anyone was at an airport, there was already disease in the air.
Were you at the airport then? the man who looked like a waiter asked the woman who looked like an actress from the nineteen-forties.
Oh no she replied We had already stopped going to the airport.
Because of disease in the air?
She laughed. No, because we had found alternative methods of flight.
Some of the alternative methods of flight included time-tested practices such as drugs, imagination, & imaginative drugs. Other methods seemed novel, like giant machines & home-made wings. Some methods could be dangerous or downright frightening, like magic or futuristic science, which may have been the same thing.
You know said the man who looked like a waiter I have heard about these alternative methods of flight but I confess I love aeroplanes.
Looking slightly cross, the woman who looked like an actress from the nineteen-forties asked in response Are you going to take my order now?
If you feel at this moment somewhat embarrassed for the man who looked like a waiter, & perhaps even feel a bit of pity for him, please don't. He looked so much like a waiter that he would often just go into restaurants, act as though he worked there, & steal the tip money from the actual staff.
He took her order. She received it in a colorful to-go bag. & then stepping outside, she looked up at the full moon, said a slight incantation, & flew away.
The man who looked like a waiter pocketed the tip money, told no one in particular that he was going to take a break, & he walked quickly away, into the night.
Saturday, August 01, 2020
Friday, July 31, 2020
Thursday, July 30, 2020
We Found An Unfortunate Echo
Because it was, after all, a long song, we rested easy, we knew we had time, like waiting in a line, or falling in a dream, or scanning the sky for faint stars, or looking down the street hoping to see the bus.
Hopping to see the bus, the child was pretending to be a rabbit pretending to be interested in buses. The hopping got tiring; the child however did not have to pretend too hard to want to see the bus. The kid adored the bus.
The kid adorned the bust with flowers & tiny figurines she found on a shelf in the attic. She wanted to know, perhaps, exactly who the bust was supposed to represent, but she loved her anyway. & she pretended it wasn't always white, that once it had some color.
Once its handsome color was enhanced by the sun, we stood in that slightly pretentious pensive manner & admired it, heaping considered praise on the artist who, it must be said, took our admiration with excessive modesty. Perhaps she also blushed.
Perhaps she also brushed her hair with the old brush her mother left her. Everyone knew that she kept a box of her mother's things to go through in her darker moments. So many regrets, so many things left unsaid. How could that tiny box hold them all?
The tiny box told them all that they had come in vain. They were not going to be buzzed up; the host was not feeling well; the party was cancelled. Standing around the crumbling doorstep, a slight mist descending on them, they decided then & there to have the party in the street.
Partly in the street, partly on the sidewalk, most of my belongings were strewn. They hardly seemed like mine, to be honest, so hastily & haphazardly were they thrown from the second floor during the fire. Here's what I was thinking: you should've let it all burn.
You should've let it all turn to gold, you should've wished for more precious metals, you've should've taken as many baubles as possible, filling your pockets & cupping your hands. Instead, you were literally empty-handed. You escaped with less than you had when you arrived.
She took your hand when you arrived, a perhaps too-familiar gesture, but one which gave you comfort at the right moment. No one expects death, even the death of the very old. It was a strange song to bring you together, though, not because it was sad or painful, but because it was, after all, the wrong song.
Hopping to see the bus, the child was pretending to be a rabbit pretending to be interested in buses. The hopping got tiring; the child however did not have to pretend too hard to want to see the bus. The kid adored the bus.
The kid adorned the bust with flowers & tiny figurines she found on a shelf in the attic. She wanted to know, perhaps, exactly who the bust was supposed to represent, but she loved her anyway. & she pretended it wasn't always white, that once it had some color.
Once its handsome color was enhanced by the sun, we stood in that slightly pretentious pensive manner & admired it, heaping considered praise on the artist who, it must be said, took our admiration with excessive modesty. Perhaps she also blushed.
Perhaps she also brushed her hair with the old brush her mother left her. Everyone knew that she kept a box of her mother's things to go through in her darker moments. So many regrets, so many things left unsaid. How could that tiny box hold them all?
The tiny box told them all that they had come in vain. They were not going to be buzzed up; the host was not feeling well; the party was cancelled. Standing around the crumbling doorstep, a slight mist descending on them, they decided then & there to have the party in the street.
Partly in the street, partly on the sidewalk, most of my belongings were strewn. They hardly seemed like mine, to be honest, so hastily & haphazardly were they thrown from the second floor during the fire. Here's what I was thinking: you should've let it all burn.
You should've let it all turn to gold, you should've wished for more precious metals, you've should've taken as many baubles as possible, filling your pockets & cupping your hands. Instead, you were literally empty-handed. You escaped with less than you had when you arrived.
She took your hand when you arrived, a perhaps too-familiar gesture, but one which gave you comfort at the right moment. No one expects death, even the death of the very old. It was a strange song to bring you together, though, not because it was sad or painful, but because it was, after all, the wrong song.
Monday, July 27, 2020
Self Help Radio 072720: Heroes
(Original image here.)
Here it comes to save the day! Yay! Heroes! Because a radio program about cowards would seem too much like a radio show about the police or about politicians, Self Help Radio chose instead to spotlight those we choose to call heroes. & so we did.
Is there something heroic about listening to the radio in this day & age? Self Help Radio can't answer that - even though technically it was a questions the show just asked - but here's as noncommittal a statement as you're ever going to here: there are acts of ordinary heroism everywhere!
Sheesh. It might be better to just listen to the dumb show instead of trying to frame it in heroic terms, even if that's the theme. & you can do that while still in your secret identity! Please don't listen to the show while on patrol. It'll be distracting.
The Self Help Radio "hero" show is now at Self Help Radio's anti-heroic web page. Please remember, you'll need a username & a password to listen. Those are SHR & selfhelp. You can see below what was played.
& now, citizen - up, over, & away!
Self Help Radio Heroes Show
"Heroes" David Bowie _"Heroes"_
"Superhero Music" Fingathing _Superhero Music_
introduction &
"If I Could Be Your Hero" Dot Wiggin Band _Ready! Get! Go!_
"We R Super Heroes" Robbert Bobbert & The Bubble Machine _Robbert Bobbert & The Bubble Machine_
"This Place For Heroes" Bob & Ray _Classic Bob & Ray, Vol. 1 - Selections From A Career: 1946-1976_
"The Conquering Heroes" The Divine Comedy _Office Politics_
"Just Like The Hero" Ed Cooper _Allnighter II_
interview with my youngest friends Alyssa & Jason
"Working Class Hero" John Lennon _Plastic Ono Band_
"A Bunch Of Lonesome Heroes" Leonard Cohen _Songs From A Room_
"Hero Worship" The B-52's _The B-52's_
"Heroine" Jehnny Beth _To Love Is To Live_
"Superhero" Lifestyle _At The Risk Of Sounding Pretentious_
interview with the Rev Dr Howard Gently
"My Hero, Zero" Bob Dorough _Schoolhouse Rock: Multiplication Rock_
"Hero Of The War" Scott Walker _Scott 4_
"Heros" Guy Clark _My Favorite Picture Of You_
"Heroes Who Died For Their Country" George Carlin _When Will Jesus Bring The Pork Chops?_
"Heroes & Halos" The High Violets _Heroes & Halos_
interview with author Rod Nielsen
"Hogan's Heroes March" Robert Clary, Richard Dawson, Ivan Dixon, & Larry Hovis _Hogan's Heroes Sing The Best Of World War II_
"I'm A Cult Hero" The Cure _Seventeen Seconds_
"Cult Hero, Come Home" My Favorite _A Double Agent Compilation_
"Friends Of The Heroes" The Aislers Set _Terrible Things Happen_
"Hometown Hero" Free Cake For Every Creature _The Bluest Star_
conclusions & goodbye
"No More Heroes" The Royal Philharmonic Orchestra _The Anarchy Arias_
"Heroes" Period Pains _It's The Cheap Damaged Goods Sampler CD_
"Hero Takes A Fall" The Bangles _All Over The Place_
"Million Dollar Hero (In A Five & Ten Cents Store)" The Radiators _The Chiswick Story: Adventures Of An Independent Record Label 1975-1982_
Sunday, July 26, 2020
Whither Heroes?
(From a different show called "Heroes" from the Wikipedia page.)
In the early 1980s, we were told, thanks to commercial radio, that we didn't need another hero. & in fact, the 1980s had very few heroes. But then CGI superhero movies hadn't been invented yet. Nor internet memes!
As it is, these days the world is awash with heroes & heroics & by gum it's time for Self Help Radio to show its appreciation! By playing songs about heroes. Although not specific heroes. I couldn't find any songs about Green Lantern. No songs about Green Lantern, no songs about any other superhero. That's just the way it is.
The show happens tomorrow from 8-10am on Freeform Portland. That's tomorrow Monday in case you're seeing this late.
Does listening make you a hero? Not to this show, but yes to listening to Freeform!