No-one really believes this but that sound you hear when it's completely quiet & you think what you're hearing is silence but instead it's like the sound of the smallest electrical wire operating somewhere far away? That sound I like to think is the sound of your brain working. Imagine! You might actually hear the sound of your brain thinking of & listening to the sound of itself!
At some point I asked several someones if that were true & they told me it wasn't. Also I've asked around, you know, in casual conversation, about the sound of tiny electricity in your head when it's otherwise very quiet & most people I've asked don't hear that sound. One person suggested it might be mild tinnitus. & in fact, on website after website, I read this:
If the hairs inside your inner ear are bent or broken, they can "leak" random electrical impulses to your brain, causing tinnitus.
As for me, I prefer to think the "leaked" "electrical impulses" come directly from my brain. Knowing that it's almost certainly not true doesn't dissuade me from embracing it - it probably does the opposite. It's nice to imagine one being able to literally hear oneself think. & it's amazing to imagine the moment right before there's nothing left of life when one hears oneself stop thinking. Being about not to think one's last thought because one simply cannot think any more.
Before I began writing this, before I began thinking about quiet, almost meditative times when I think I am listening to my brain softly whirr, I wrote down this short phrase: penury dirge.
Penury is extreme destitution, & destitution is extreme poverty. Poverty is the state of having little to nothing, & when one reaches poverty, then travels to destitution, & finally ends up at penury, one can definitely say one has nothing left.
While I grew up in poverty, we were fortunate to have many things. We always for example had a roof over our heads. There were many reasons for this. One was that my siblings were old enough to work & contribute to the household after my parents divorced. They almost certainly helped pay for the little apartment we lived in when we fled our house when I was four. The second is that eventually my mother, despite her pride, contacted the government & was able to get welfare payments & food stamps. The last is that my mother eventually got a job, & one in which it was very easy to steal small amounts of money & things like food - it was at a convenience store - to keep us alive.
It was therefore clear to me I could not in good conscience write any kind of "penury dirge" despite how much I liked the short phrase & instead I started focusing on the little electrical hum in my head. Which is probably due to bent or broken ear hairs & not on my brain chugging along, second-guessing itself, & absent-mindedly keeping my heart beating & my lungs breathing.
Though I suspect it might be the noise my brain makes after all.
Saturday, August 15, 2020
Friday, August 14, 2020
You Saw Me In My Old Movie
Back when I was an actor.
Granted, I was typecast early as a monster. But I told myself, "Monsters are like the romantic leads of monster movies." & everyone wanted at least one tooth of mine, & I could grow them back, so I gave them away.
"You gave away all your teeth?" you asked me. I would've smiled at you, but they hadn't grown back yet. & my grin is, well, monstrous.
Let me tell you about the movie you saw: it was filmed not in a lake, but on a movie set. There was a giant pool, about twenty feet deep, which was filled with very cold water. One of the production assistants warned me that many, many famous actors who had done movies there had quite possibly urinated in that pool. "Don't they change the water?" I asked & she laughed at me.
In those days I had an almost religious aversion to swimming. Swimming & advertisements. Somehow they went together in my head, like asthma & smoking, or corduroys & tattoos. In my monster wetsuit, I almost drowned so many times the insurance people yelled at the producers who in turn fired the director, who called me later that night in drunken tears telling me he no longer had the will to live.
Could I have fought for a better film? You said you were mildly amused by it, & people can't say that about every film. This was in the days before CGI, mind you. Possibly in the days before make-up, although don't quote me on that. Was there a green screen? I remember everyone getting gift bags with squeaky rubber duckies in them, as if the giant pool where many actors (myself, now, included) went "number one" in was actually a mammoth bathtub. The gift bag did not, unfortunately, contain soap & a scrub brush.
Were you interviewing me for a magazine article? Or for a job? These days I am not entirely sure where I am, where I'm going, & nor why I'm there. It's like my mother used to say, "The teeth will one day get slower in the growing back, & may one day never grow back at all." One cold winter evening I spent on the internet once seeing where my teeth had ended up. Some - it turns out - didn't even seem to come from a monster at all!
Anyway, I occasionally go to those shows where I sign pictures of myself for a few bucks & get my picture taken with people who claim to be my fans. They sometimes dress up as me from some movie or another. Some of them seem to be versions of me I lost along the way, or have emerged from an alternate reality by falling through a hole in the universe. Some seem like friends, others like nurses carrying me from one giant white machine to another - "more tests!" they say cheerfully. I sign whatever they put in front of me.
One more thing about the movie you saw: I don't believe I was actually in it. It's hard to tell, because of the mask the monster wore, but you'd think I'd recognize my own body, even covered in a monster wetsuit. It just doesn't seem like my body, you know? & I've lived with that for my entire life.
You didn't stay long, which is fine. I was actually just about ready to smile wide - a mouth full of new teeth! - when you left. I saw you take a bus to an airplane which flew to a boat. Did the harbor look like a giant pool in a movie studio with water unchanged for decades? Naw, it was too small. The world, it turns out, is much smaller than a movie studio, which, truth be told, goes on forever.
They've invited me to a retrospective of my works, & I'm ashamed to admit I'm not in any of them. There's free food, & a hotel room, & perhaps a panel I must sit on with other old people like myself. I have started to lie - did I tell you? - I've started to just say the first thing that pops into my head about the movies they think I've made. A story here about a helicopter which refused to sing. A story there about the ingenue who chewed tobacco (she's no longer with us, she can't complain or disagree). Another story about getting rabies from rabbits while in a massive meadow. Or were they extras dressed up as rabbits? The audience laughs & laughs.
There was also that one time I thought I saw you in the back of one of these film festivals. My eyesight is not so good, & earlier that day I'd given away my very last tooth to a fan who was a quarter my age. I would have wanted to give it to you, had I known you were there. Then I would've confessed to being a fraud, but I suspect you already knew.
Anyway, that wasn't me in the monster movie. I was just the monster the movie reminded you of.
Granted, I was typecast early as a monster. But I told myself, "Monsters are like the romantic leads of monster movies." & everyone wanted at least one tooth of mine, & I could grow them back, so I gave them away.
"You gave away all your teeth?" you asked me. I would've smiled at you, but they hadn't grown back yet. & my grin is, well, monstrous.
Let me tell you about the movie you saw: it was filmed not in a lake, but on a movie set. There was a giant pool, about twenty feet deep, which was filled with very cold water. One of the production assistants warned me that many, many famous actors who had done movies there had quite possibly urinated in that pool. "Don't they change the water?" I asked & she laughed at me.
In those days I had an almost religious aversion to swimming. Swimming & advertisements. Somehow they went together in my head, like asthma & smoking, or corduroys & tattoos. In my monster wetsuit, I almost drowned so many times the insurance people yelled at the producers who in turn fired the director, who called me later that night in drunken tears telling me he no longer had the will to live.
Could I have fought for a better film? You said you were mildly amused by it, & people can't say that about every film. This was in the days before CGI, mind you. Possibly in the days before make-up, although don't quote me on that. Was there a green screen? I remember everyone getting gift bags with squeaky rubber duckies in them, as if the giant pool where many actors (myself, now, included) went "number one" in was actually a mammoth bathtub. The gift bag did not, unfortunately, contain soap & a scrub brush.
Were you interviewing me for a magazine article? Or for a job? These days I am not entirely sure where I am, where I'm going, & nor why I'm there. It's like my mother used to say, "The teeth will one day get slower in the growing back, & may one day never grow back at all." One cold winter evening I spent on the internet once seeing where my teeth had ended up. Some - it turns out - didn't even seem to come from a monster at all!
Anyway, I occasionally go to those shows where I sign pictures of myself for a few bucks & get my picture taken with people who claim to be my fans. They sometimes dress up as me from some movie or another. Some of them seem to be versions of me I lost along the way, or have emerged from an alternate reality by falling through a hole in the universe. Some seem like friends, others like nurses carrying me from one giant white machine to another - "more tests!" they say cheerfully. I sign whatever they put in front of me.
One more thing about the movie you saw: I don't believe I was actually in it. It's hard to tell, because of the mask the monster wore, but you'd think I'd recognize my own body, even covered in a monster wetsuit. It just doesn't seem like my body, you know? & I've lived with that for my entire life.
You didn't stay long, which is fine. I was actually just about ready to smile wide - a mouth full of new teeth! - when you left. I saw you take a bus to an airplane which flew to a boat. Did the harbor look like a giant pool in a movie studio with water unchanged for decades? Naw, it was too small. The world, it turns out, is much smaller than a movie studio, which, truth be told, goes on forever.
They've invited me to a retrospective of my works, & I'm ashamed to admit I'm not in any of them. There's free food, & a hotel room, & perhaps a panel I must sit on with other old people like myself. I have started to lie - did I tell you? - I've started to just say the first thing that pops into my head about the movies they think I've made. A story here about a helicopter which refused to sing. A story there about the ingenue who chewed tobacco (she's no longer with us, she can't complain or disagree). Another story about getting rabies from rabbits while in a massive meadow. Or were they extras dressed up as rabbits? The audience laughs & laughs.
There was also that one time I thought I saw you in the back of one of these film festivals. My eyesight is not so good, & earlier that day I'd given away my very last tooth to a fan who was a quarter my age. I would have wanted to give it to you, had I known you were there. Then I would've confessed to being a fraud, but I suspect you already knew.
Anyway, that wasn't me in the monster movie. I was just the monster the movie reminded you of.
Thursday, August 13, 2020
Guzzle
Contrary to popular thought, not all the blues are blue.
Like all roads lead to somewhere, not all roads will lead through.
& even though you say, "Well that's a fine how do you do!"
There are hours of conversation that we have to stumble through.
You pick up your guitar, you strum a chord or two.
While I pick up your diary & begin the flipping through.
Do I invade your privacy? Do I do that to you?
You invade my space with that ashtray that you threw!
You say the sinking sun begins the night anew.
A moment of completion, & now the day is through.
Like all roads lead to somewhere, not all roads will lead through.
& even though you say, "Well that's a fine how do you do!"
There are hours of conversation that we have to stumble through.
You pick up your guitar, you strum a chord or two.
While I pick up your diary & begin the flipping through.
Do I invade your privacy? Do I do that to you?
You invade my space with that ashtray that you threw!
You say the sinking sun begins the night anew.
A moment of completion, & now the day is through.
Monday, August 10, 2020
Self Help Radio 081020: Zebras
(Original image from here.)
Seven out of twelve zebras agree: today's Self Help Radio was a fair & accurate description of zebras & worth the time of any zebra or zebra lover should they wish to listen to a radio show about zebras. I want to point out I only asked twelve zebras because I only know twelve zebras, & it's safe to say that Miranda & Jennifer really don't like me so they were going to say they hated the show no matter what. However, Homer has generally been honest with me despite thinking me insipid, so I should think his opinion counts for more than, say, Ted-Bob's or Hoofer's, since they've been enthusiastic supporters since we've met. But seriously, it's hard to get seven zebras to agree to anything these days, if you must know, except "biting flies fucking suck" & "yeah, that's a lion, let's get the hell out of here."
So I'm feeling pretty good about this show, which aired this morning from 8-10am on Freeform Portland. It's very happily resting now at the Self Help Radio website which you can listen to it any old time.
Maybe now? Okay, whatever. Just remember you need a username (SHR) & a password (selfhelp) to access that or any other file. The show is two hours long, & what happened on the show is written below.
Miranda & Jennifer says, "If you like this show, you hate zebras." Why do they despise me so?
Self Help Radio Zebra Show
"Zebras" Zulluu _Zulluu Captured Live_
"Zebras" Chins _Animals & Creatures_
"I Am A Zebra" Elaine O'Connell Lake _My Room_
introduction, definitions, & an interruption
"Zebra" Beach House _Teen Dream_
"Zebra" Yma Sumac _Miracles_
"Zebra Question" Shel Silverstein _A Light In The Attic_
"Neon Zebra" Shonen Knife _The Birds & The B-Sides_
"Zebra Standards 29" R. Stevie Moore _Delicate Tension_
interview with zebra domesticator Karl Blanford
"Beatles Zebra Crossing?" Shriekback _Sacred City_
"Zebra" The Magnetic Fields _69 Love Songs_
"Yak & Zebra" Dame Judi Dench _35 Animal Stories For Children_
"Zebra" Benji Hughes _Songs In The Key Of Animals_
"Red Eyed Zebra" The Deer Tracks _The Archer Trilogy, Pt. 3_
a selection from his "Animal Totem" tape series by the Rev Dr Howard Gently
"I've Got A Zebra - She Can Fly" The Unfolding _How To Blow Your Mind & Have A Freakout Party_
"Zebra In The Kitchen" The Standells _Zebra In The Kitchen_
"Zebras In Zoos" Fred Klett _One Of Ten_
"Maasai Mara" The Ruby Suns _The Ruby Suns_
"Zebra" Cesaria Evora _Cabo Verde_
interview with anthropologist Dr. Madeline Munch
"Zebra Club" The Bongos _Drums Along The Hudson_
"The Zebra Question" Caspar Babypants _Bug Out!_
"Zebra" Ken Nordine _Wink: Ken Nordine Does Robert Shure_
"Horror Pop" Marina & The Diamonds _Mermaid Vs Sailor_
"Zebra Skin Shop Assistant" Danny Adler _Nightshift_
conclusion & goodbye
"Zebra" Oneohtrix Point Never _R Plus Seven_
"Zebra" Youngsters _Las Vegas Grind!_
"Mr. Zebra" The Chanteers _Mercury Records Doo Wop # 7_
"Zebra" The Nits _New Flat_
"Zebra" Artichoke _26 Animals_
Sunday, August 09, 2020
Whither Zebras?
(Image from here.)
Look at these guys! How can you ask me why this week's Self Help Radio will be about zebras? You should be asking why aren't there more radio shows about zebras! Why aren't there?
Listen, I've spent the past week talking to lots of zebras & it turns out they're really great guys. A bit humorless but when you spend most of your time trying to fend off biting flies & the occasional hungry lion, you don't get a lot of time to have too much fun. Still, they're thoughtful & sometimes they wax poetic & you know what? I don't think I've ever met an animal who has been so grateful about someone buying them lunch. "I can order whatever?" each zebra I met asked incredulously. I was like "Sure, whatever you want!" Mainly they ordered the grass of the day, but if they had wanted fruit or something else, I would've sprung for it. Even juice. They rob you with the price of juice at restaurants but I wanted the zebras to be happy.
Granted, these were zoo zebras - I wasn't able to make it out to Africa because of the virus & stuff, & anyway I don't know the languages they speak out there - but the immigrant zebras I met still feel very connected to that place. Almost wistful, really. I was like, "You even miss the lions?" & they were like, "No we don't miss the lions you freak. Are you going to finish your grass?"
It must also be said that the zebras I talked to (except for Brian, who enjoyed being contrary) all seemed very excited there was going to be a radio show about them. Granted, I had to explain was radio was, & also that they weren't going to get paid (except for lunch) but otherwise they were flattered & quite excited to know someone thought enough of them to make a radio show for them. They were all just great. Except maybe Brian. Brian I think wasn't so much a zebra as just some kind of ass.
Listen tomorrow (Monday) morning to Freeform Portland for a celebration of the zebra with song & talk. It'll happen from 8-10am on 90.3 & 98.3 fm & online at freeformportland.org. You'll make so many zebra friends! I know I did!
Saturday, August 08, 2020
Preface To Zebras: Zowie!
If you're anything like me, you're a hopelessly insecure fifty-two-year-old man who is on the radio but can't seem to do that very well. You also grew up reading comic books & that's probably where you first heard the word "zowie." Is "zowie" really a word?
An online dictionary I checked says it is, & defines it as an interjection, which is "used to express keen pleasure, astonishment, approval, etc."
One of my favorite sites, the Online Etymological Dictionary, notes that it's an "expression of astonishment" & dates from around the year 1913, but has no other information about its origins.
Most probably it came about because we humans love to rhyme words for emphasis. You can find many examples - hoity toity, helter skelter, golly wolly, holy moley. The standard English injection for amazement is "wow!" & for extra amazement, we might stretch it out, saying, "Wow-wee!" Add a little rhyme, you can get "wowie zowie!" Eventually "zowie" itself branched off - apparently around a hundred years ago - & became its own interjection.
& good for it! The life of an interjection is hard. Some interjections - like "wow" - choose to play clean, but as time goes by, we have more & more profane interjections, you know the ones I'm talking about: the so-called f-bomb or s-bomb. An expression like "wow" can hardly compete, even if it decides to become a "wow-ie." But you want something novel? almost poetic? maybe slightly European? I give you "zowie."
Please note it does not rhyme with David Bowie; it doesn't even rhyme with Jim Bowie! I have recently been informed that there is a New Zealand pop star called Zowie, but since her real name is Zoe Fluery, I am going to assume that it rhymes with "Zoe" & is therefore not really related to the interjection "wowie." & anyway, it's going to sound weird in that Kiwi accent no matter what.
Why do I think I first heard (or more probably saw) the word in comic books? Look at this:
It's true! The word is often associated with Batman, said often by his sidekick Robin, & probably was uttered a lot during the 1960s television show.
Does this have anything to do with zebras? Maybe. I've never heard a zebra say, "Zowie!" Have you? Frankly I've never heard a zebra say anything. So I'm going to say, reservedly, "In private, zebras say 'zowie' as a statement of astonishment more often than you think."
Zowie! Imagine if that's true!
Friday, August 07, 2020
Zoned
You're asking me what rhymes with zoned? It's your poem! What have you written - caravel? No, that reminds with caramel. If you have caramel on a caravel, be careful! The boats were swift but the sea was cruel.
Come on, you can think of something that rhymes with zoned! Let's see - ambush? Not even close! But I will point out that "ham-crush" doesn't quite rhyme with ambush, although perhaps it's okay because it looks like it rhymes. Let's consult the Big Book Of Poetry Rules!
Uh oh! We misplaced it again!
Why are you having such a hard time thinking of something that rhymes with zoned? What did you just say? "Stoked"? That's a little closer, because of assonance - the "o" sound is the same. But would it be enough to fool your sophomore poetry teacher? No, it would not! She was a hard-ass!
Seriously, I love you but you really need to come up with a decent rhyme for "zoned." It's really not that hard, it's not like orange or purple or... What did you write? "Sesquicentennial"?!?! Are you out of your mind? How could that ever in a million years in a million languages on a million different planets rhyme with "zoned"?
You're fucking with me, aren't you?
What - you've finished your couplet? Let me see. Hm. I think that's fine. Let's go get something to eat now, shall we?
No, leave your couplet behind. I'll just put it here. Where it'll bother no one. It certainly caused some consternation didn't it!
Inside the industrial park, newly zoned
She had honestly never felt more aloned.
Thursday, August 06, 2020
Zilch
In preparation for the longest voyage of my life, I brought with me this diary in which I imagined I would record all my thoughts & dreams & observations as I watched the world pass by. I had been warned that a bumpy carriage would not be ideal for continuous writing but I did suspect I'd get used to it at some point & perhaps even develop a kind of shorthand for common sights which would come in handy on particularly treacherous roads. Surrounded as I would be by dear Mother, who was perhaps too unwell to take this journey, & by my darling sister Carolyn, whom I couldn't imagine sitting still for the days & maybe weeks we'd be traveling, & also by our faithful Jerves, without whom we almost certainly couldn't feed ourselves, I truly thought my mind would need the distraction of putting pen to shaking paper, not just for my sanity but also to aid my memories once I was too old to vividly recall my youth.
It was all for naught, of course, thanks to the untimely intervention of Zilch, the talking banana.
Have you ever in your wildest dreams imagined a banana could talk? Of course not! The common banana has no mouth, no face, no larynx or lungs to push air out to make sounds. & yet, as the carriage drove straight & slow down one monotonous road after another, I found this banana - who told me its name was Zilch - talking to me.
Afraid I was quite losing my mind, I asked dear Mother if she too could hear the fruit speaking. She said of course she could. & my darling sister Carolyn? Yes, she had already met Zilch. Faithful Jerves? What about you? He had expressed some doubts that it had actually formed words, but now that we had all agreed it had, yes, he had taken notice of the unusual situation.
Which of course begged the question: why was the banana talking to me? The truth is, we had hardly even seen a banana before. It may have been at the Davenports when their son Richard returned from a naval tour. A banana was quite the novelty. There was something else: I was quite certain we hadn't packed a banana. I even asked faithful Jerves if he had packed a banana, & he told me he assuredly did not.
Needless to say I had very little time to write during that journey as Zilch almost literally talked my ears off. For such a small thing, it had a lot to say. It fancied itself well-read, & quoted a phenomenal amount of literature, all of which I had never heard of. The Papaya Debacle, for example, a rousing tale by the eminent writer Freenick Zolph. Or the set of witty poems by the estimable Princess Yardbo Zull, many of which Zilch knew by heart. & not just literature - no, I heard many extracts from the great Yogot Beelee Chronicles, which dispassionately told the story of the continent from which Zilch & its kind came. I wished I had been an historian of some kind, to capture some of these facts which were hitherto hidden from our own scholars.
Alas, I had reason to believe Zilch may have been fabricating many of these stories. I shan't accuse it of outright lies! But it was a young banana, it spoke broken-heartedly of being separated by its bunch, its large family transported across the sea to be torn apart & consumed by humans. This was a theme it returned to again & again, often getting angry if it had shared a little wine with me - I would let it soak a bit if it seemed parched - & though I didn't fear it, it often muttered words of malice, spoke of revenge, & even shouted once - not at me - but at dear Mother!
But before the journey ended, Zilch ripened, blackened, & died. So many questions remained after its demise. These are questions I hoped to ask other bananas I might meet in my journeys, but fate & circumstances conspired to keep that fruit from me for most of my life. Certainly since Zilch, I haven't seen nor heard from a banana. & after dear Mother died in the suicide-pact she formed with faithful Jerves, my grief prevented me from even remembering Zilch for many years.
It was a chance encounter with a plantain named Ziggy that brought these memories to the fore. But that tale, surely, is for another time.
Monday, August 03, 2020
Self Help Radio 080320: Flight
(Original image here. For some reason.)
This morning - I'd like to tell you - the radio show called Self Help Radio took flight! It took it & frankly it took it too far. Why does it feel the need to take a very nice topic like "flight" & beat it to death? I'd suggest it has a problem.
Never-the-less, that show - which many would say never really got off the ground - has landed & has been taxied back to the hangar at the website Self Help Radio dot net. Some say it's gone there for repairs & for refueling. Others say it simply sits there most of the week & licks its wounds. Still others say, "What exactly are you talking about? A self-help radio show? What?"
But can't a show at least dream of flying? Can a show dream at all? Why are we placing restrictions on dreams all of a sudden? This supposition has taken a very dark turn. If Self Help Radio wants to doze & speed into the air like the radio waves that carry it, who are you to be so freakin' literal to tell it it can't? Oh my gosh! What happened to you?
Anyway, show at website. Username: SHR. Password: selfhelp. Two hours, many songs, a few interviews. Details below.
It's like I don't even know who you are any more.
Self Help Radio Flight Show
"Flight" A Certain Ratio _Early_
"Flight" Tanya Tagaq _Animism_
"The Flight" The Hellers _Singers... Talkers... Players... Swingers... & Doers_
introduction & definitions
"Flight 101" Etta James _Queen Of Soul_
"The Golden Age Of Aviation" The Lucksmiths _Staring At The Sky_
"Airline Announcements (Part One)" George Carlin _Jammin' In New York_
"Once Upon A Flight" Os Mutantes _Fool Metal Jack_
"This Flight Tonight" Joni Mitchell _Blue_
interview with the Rev Dr Howard Gently
"Fight Or Flight" Stereophonics _Keep The Village Alive_
"Non-Stop Flight" Spanky Wilson _Speciality Of The House_
"Airline Announcements (Part Two)" George Carlin _Jammin' In New York_
"The Flight Of The Wild Geese" Joan Armatrading _Love & Affection: Joan Armatrading Classics (1975-1983)_
"Flight Tonight" The Avalanches _Since I Left You_
interview with flight instructor Simon Armstrong
"Nite Flights" The Walker Brothers _Nite Flights_
"Flight Reaction" Calico Wall _Pebbles Volume 3 "The Acid Gallery"_
"Airline Announcements (Part Three)" George Carlin _Jammin' In New York_
"On The Love Flight" Lee Shot Williams _She Made A Freak Out Of Me_ (Ecko Records, 2000)
"Orly Flight" Nico _Drama Of Exile_ (Cleopatra, 1993)
interview with anthropologist Dr Madeline Munch
"Flight 13" The Dearly Beloved _Let's Talk About Girls! Music From Tucson 1965-1968_
"Flight Path" The Apple Pie Motherhood Band _Long Live Apple Pie_
"A Flight" Sheer Agony _Masterpiece_
"Final Flight" Melbourne Cans _Moonlight Malaise_
conclusion & goodbye
"Flight IC408" State Of Bengal _Talvin Singh Presents Anokha (Soundz Of The Asian Underground)_
Sunday, August 02, 2020
Whither Flight?
(Image from here.)
Human beings can fly. You have always known that. You have always felt that you could fly. You like to be high up in buildings. You want to climb to the very tops of trees. You go to the amusement parks & ride the rides which take you to where birds swoop & whirl. It's not merely flight envy. It's a kind of genetic memory: you remember that you can fly.
So why don't you fly? Why do you fly only in dreams, or in airplanes, or (if you can) in gliders or helicopters? Why don't you simply lift yourself off the ground & take your rightful place in the heavens? Sleeping on a cloud, racing a sunbeam, avoiding the rain by climbing above it - these are all things you could be doing this very moment. Why aren't you?
Have human beings forgotten how to fly? Has gravity somehow betrayed us? Have we let something as old as fear diminish the inborn desire to soar through the skies?
You may find answers on this week's episode of Self Help Radio, which airs from 8 to 10am Monday morning (that's tomorrow) on 90.3 & 98.3 fm Freeform Portland, online at Freeform Portland dot org.
Yes, there may be answers there. But. Maybe not.
Saturday, August 01, 2020
Preface To Flight: The Last Time Anyone Was At An Airport
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.
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.
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!
Saturday, July 25, 2020
Preface To Heroes: Define It
So... The show this week... Self Help Radio this week... It's already done. I'm not saying so on the air - I find there are few benefits to mentioning one's show is prerecorded - but I'm saying so here because (if it's possible) less people read this blog than listen to the show. & almost no one listens to the show.
One thing I like to do for my themes is define them. You might expect I would have done it for this week's show. & I tried to, really, I did. But I was interrupted. Which sometimes happens. It would be nice if it happened comically, but I doubt that's the case for this week's show. In any event, I did not get to define the word hero. Which, should you tune in Monday, you'll discover. Should I have said "spoiler alert"?
However, we have time & space for definitions here. So, without further ado, here's what it says on the Wikipedia page for hero:
A hero (heroine in its feminine form) is a real person or a main fictional character who, in the face of danger, combats adversity through feats of ingenuity, courage, or strength. Like other formerly solely gender-specific terms (like actor), hero is often used to refer to any gender, though heroine only refers to female. The original hero type of classical epics did such things for the sake of glory & honor. On the other hand, are post-classical & modern heroes, who perform great deeds or selfless acts for the common good instead of the classical goal of wealth, pride, & fame.
It goes on to mention - you can read it yourself - that the word comes from the Greek heros which meant "protector" or "defender." One of my favorite sites, the Online Etymology Dictionary, notes these things:
Meaning "man who exhibits great bravery" in any course of action is from 1660s in English. Sense of "chief male character in a play, story, etc." first recorded 1690s. Hero-worship is from 1713 in reference to ancient cults & mysteries; of living people by 1830s. In Homer, of the Greeks before Troy, then a comprehensive term used of warriors generally, also of all free men in the Heroic Age. In classical mythology from at least the time of Hesiod (8c. B.C.E.) "man born from a god & a mortal," especially one who had done service to humankind; with the exception of Heracles limited to local deities & patrons of cities.
That's all I wanted to say today. Something I didn't get a chance to say on the show. Which airs on Monday. But which I finished yesterday morning. Not to be too confusing or anything.
One thing I like to do for my themes is define them. You might expect I would have done it for this week's show. & I tried to, really, I did. But I was interrupted. Which sometimes happens. It would be nice if it happened comically, but I doubt that's the case for this week's show. In any event, I did not get to define the word hero. Which, should you tune in Monday, you'll discover. Should I have said "spoiler alert"?
However, we have time & space for definitions here. So, without further ado, here's what it says on the Wikipedia page for hero:
A hero (heroine in its feminine form) is a real person or a main fictional character who, in the face of danger, combats adversity through feats of ingenuity, courage, or strength. Like other formerly solely gender-specific terms (like actor), hero is often used to refer to any gender, though heroine only refers to female. The original hero type of classical epics did such things for the sake of glory & honor. On the other hand, are post-classical & modern heroes, who perform great deeds or selfless acts for the common good instead of the classical goal of wealth, pride, & fame.
It goes on to mention - you can read it yourself - that the word comes from the Greek heros which meant "protector" or "defender." One of my favorite sites, the Online Etymology Dictionary, notes these things:
Meaning "man who exhibits great bravery" in any course of action is from 1660s in English. Sense of "chief male character in a play, story, etc." first recorded 1690s. Hero-worship is from 1713 in reference to ancient cults & mysteries; of living people by 1830s. In Homer, of the Greeks before Troy, then a comprehensive term used of warriors generally, also of all free men in the Heroic Age. In classical mythology from at least the time of Hesiod (8c. B.C.E.) "man born from a god & a mortal," especially one who had done service to humankind; with the exception of Heracles limited to local deities & patrons of cities.
That's all I wanted to say today. Something I didn't get a chance to say on the show. Which airs on Monday. But which I finished yesterday morning. Not to be too confusing or anything.
Friday, July 24, 2020
Vince
(Taken by Jim, my Fort Worth neighbor, over two years ago.)
You probably don't read this blog regularly, or at all, so it's weird to refer to old stories I have written about. This post concerns a cat that my neighbor rescued in December 2018 who recuperated in our garage. I told that story here. When I wrote that story, the cat - called "Simba" by my wife - had not been rescued. The story of his rescue is written here. Too long, didn't read: a graduate student at UNT adopted him. When I was still in Fort Worth, I'd volunteer to look in on Vince - the grad student gave him that name because of his ear - when needed. I liked to go over there, hang out with him - he was a very loving cat - & occasionally sit on the balcony with him. Vince didn't seem to mind being indoors - he seemed to have a sense that he'd spent so much time outdoors that he should be an indoors cat from now on.
The truth is, there was very little feral about him, so he must have once been an indoors cat. The theory is that some family who lived in the apartment complex near where he spent most of his life probably abandoned him when they moved away. He was a tough guy - his face told you that story - but he loved to cuddle, he loved to simply be near humans - heck, he even seemed to lose his trademark hiss after a time. It broke my heart to leave Texas & not be able to see him again. But I knew he was in good hands.
The grad students (whose name is Holden) doted on Vince. He apparently started an Instagram account just to show him off. (I don't do Instagram so I don't know where it is.) When the pandemic started, Holden drove to Ohio where his family & his girlfriend are, & my wife told me the cat simply rode in the back seat - without a carrier - &, when Holden stayed at his girlfriend's, Vince was forced to live with three golden retrievers, all of whom were immediately made aware who was in charge. You want proof? Here's proof:
The wife tells me Holden actually walked Vince on a leash. I was already dumbfounded about a cat that would travel without a carrier - my own cats would go nuts in a car left alone to wander - but I could no more walk my cats on a leash as I could teach them how to fly. But Vince was exceedingly chill - the almost-perfect house cat - & certainly the best first cat for a young person like Holden.
It goes without saying that living rough for years - I'd say Vince had been a "feral" cat for eight years or so - took its toll. Vince was FIV positive, which never bodes well, & he had other issues related to the injuries that brought him to our garage in the first place. The infection in his cauliflower ear was never resolved, & it moved from time-to-time to his eye. There were other issues that I am not entirely privy to - but suffice it to say, keeping Vince well meant more than a few vet visits.
Of course I'm speaking about Vince in the past tense now. We found out today from Holden that early Tuesday morning Vince had a seizure from which he never recovered. From what I understand, it happened too fast to get him to an emergency vet, & since it was the very early morning when Holden woke to discover his condition, there was no telling how long he had been seizing. That's a nightmare for every pet owner, & I can't even imagine what Holden has been going through. I lost my first cat to feline leukemia when he was just five years old & I don't think I've ever gotten over it. Here's what I texted Holden when I found out:
So sorry to hear about Vince. You adopted him knowing he had years of hard living that eventually would catch up to him. But his last year was the best of his life & he obviously was happy & well-adjusted. Thank you for giving him the housecat life that was denied him for so long.
This may be the last picture I took of him before I left Texas:
He was a beautiful cat with an amazing personality. The folks who abandoned him have no idea what they lost. Honestly, if I knew we were staying in Texas, we might have adopted him. As it was, he came to us when he needed help, & we were miraculously able to give him, like I said to Holden, the life he so deserved.
Goodbye, Vincent. I'm glad you found Holden & I'm glad your retirement into senior housecat living was so glorious. We should all be so lucky.
Thursday, July 23, 2020
Monday, July 20, 2020
Self Help Radio 072020: One Thousand
Radio shows about numbers can be kinda lame. I wonder how many numbers Self Help Radio has explored? I seem to remember zero. & there was nine. It feels like recently I did a show on the number seventeen (though it was over two years ago now). Also, one hundred. Does it count if I focused on a single number like one million miles? It doesn't? Ah well.
This lame radio show focuses on the number one thousand. Not one thousand of any particular thing, just, you know, one thousand. Here's something I just realized: I don't think I said the word "millennia" once during the show. How about that. I might have, but I don't recall. I wasn't really listening, though.
Should you want to listen - there are almost certainly a thousand reasons not to - you can do so at Self Help Radio's website. You'll only need two bits of information to hear the show: a username, which is SHR, & a password, which is selfhelp. You can see what happens on the show, songs & interviews, below.
As always: a thousand apologies.
Self Help Radio One Thousand Show
"A Thousand Stars" Kathy Young & The Innocents _The Sound Of Kathy Young_
"A Thousand Love Songs" Tiny Tim, The Eternal Troubadour _Terra Serpentes_
"A Thousand Shades Of Blue" Ron Banks & The Dramatics _The Dramatic Jackpot_
introduction & definitions
"A Thousand Hours" The Cure _Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me_
"Hold Back A Thousand Hours" The Gentle Waves _Falling From Grace_
"A Woman Went One Thousand Miles To See A Man" Rev. D.C. Rice _Complete Recorded Works In Chronological Order (1928-1930)_
"Thousand Miles Away" Otis Redding _The Immortal Otis Redding_
"Thousand Mile Blues" Jean Ritchie _None But One/High Hills & Mountains_
interview with the Rev Dr Howard Gently
"Land Of 1000 Dances" Wilson Pickett _Wilson Pickett's Greatest Hits_
"A Thousand Lovers In A Day" Future Bible Heroes _Eternal Youth_
"1000 Dreams" Miss Kittin & The Hacker _Two_
"A Thousand Words" Styrofoam _A Thousand Words_
"La Valse Mille Temps" Jacques Brel _Infiniment_
interview with author Albert Bierstadt
"$1000 Wedding" The Mekons _Slightly South Of The Border_
"A Thousand Burning Bridges" Edna McGriff _Start Movin' In My Direction_
"Land Of A Thousand Boys" Brenda Holloway _The Motown Anthology_
"A Thousand Ways" La Sera _Music For Listening To Music To_
"A Thousand Trees Were Dancing In The Dark" Gary Wilson _Alone With Gary Wilson_
"A Thousand Wonders" Archie Bell & The Drells _After Hours: The Collection (Northern Soul Masters From The Vaults Of Atlantic, Atco, Loma, Reprise, & Warner Bros. Records 1965-1974)_
"My Thousand Years With Robots" From Bubblegum To Sky _Me & Amy & The Two French Boys_
"Man Of A Thousand Faces" Regina Spektor _Far_
"One Thousand 20th Century Chairs" Kahami Karie _K.K.K.K.K._
"Like 1000 Violins" 1000 Violins _Like 1000 Violins_
conclusion & goodbye
"1000 Stars" Big Country _The Crossing_
"One Thousand" The Maybellines _The Maybellines_
"Life Of A Thousand Crimes" Echo & The Bunnymen _The Fountain_
"A Thousand Shadows" The Seeds _Future_
Sunday, July 19, 2020
Whither One Thousand?
(Image from here.)
This week on Self Help Radio - one thousand songs!
Wait, let me clarify - there will be one thousand songs although the number of songs on the show will probably not be one thousand. Usually we average about thirty songs per episode, give or take. Depends on how long they are. & how much I talk. In any event, let's say we'll have around thirty one thousand songs on the show this week. Still, on the show, there will be nothing but one thousand songs. Songs about things that number one thousand. Gosh, I can see how that might be confusing. If only there were a cleared way to express that. But I suppose there isn't.
Therefore! Listen to Self Help Radio tomorrow from 8 to 10am on Freeform Portland - 90.3 & 98.3 fm in the city, freeformportland.org everywhere - to hear one thousand songs! Only one thousand songs! Nothing but one thousand songs!*
*Again, though, the actual number of songs won't be one thousand. I mean, just doing the math, each song would have to be no longer than seventy-two seconds each, & that would be without any talk at all, which, if you've heard the show, that will never ever happen.