Song In Head Game

Have you ever: played a song so many times in your head that even though you love the song you can't help but change the lyrics so you don't get slightly bored?  If so, think about the following ways of doing so:

1) Add expletives during moments when there's quiet, or extended syllables, or otherwise musical room for expletives.  There's an exciting upside to those with MC envy: it'll make you feel like you could be a rapper.

2) Forget what the song is about.  Decide to make it about something else.  Fun things to make otherwise familiar songs unfamiliar: coal mines, helicopters (may be hard to rhyme that tho), rats, integers, salad, unitards (or other odd clothing), paprika (but invite other spices along), golf (especially if, as is right & proper, you know absolutely nothing about golf), tests, origami, donuts, & religious holidays.

3) Pretend you're a different musician (sometimes radically so) than the one who performed the song.  Not pretend you're doing a cover version of it.  If you have MC envy, rap the lyrics, & don't forget to freestyle.  There's a lot more space in other songs for freestyle rapping.

4) Slow the song down.  Speed it up!  Slow it down again.  A warning: the next time you hear the actual song, it will probably sound wrong to you for a while.

5) If you know a different language, translate the song into that language while you sing it.  If you don't know a different language, invent one.  Or scat.  Scat is fine, too.  Another warning: too much scat will make you forget the lyrics over time.  & you'll be forced to scat for the rest of your days.  Or worse, hum.

6) If you're unlucky enough to have more than one song in your head at the same time, especially if they've been there for more than a couple of days, sing them simultaneously until they fit perfectly (or imperfectly) or until they make an entirely new song.

7) Have you tried an accent?  If so, do not try an accent around people who don't understand you're not trying to be offensive.  Better safe than sorry.

8) You know, I thought there might be eight of these, but I was wrong.  I am seduced by the magic of the number ten, I wanted to tell you ten ways of livening up the old songs forever reverberating in your head, but I suspect I only know seven.

9) See number nine for explanation.

10) Anyway, now that song that's been in my head all afternoon?  It's gone.  It's like an incantation or something, reading this.  I must save this for myself.  If not for you.

This I hope has been helpful if you, like me, have listened to so many songs for so long & you play them in your head constantly & you sometimes - well, maybe more than sometimes - get a little bored & feel the need - the playful need - to change them up somewhat.  Don't worry!  It's only in your head!  The songwriters/musicians will never know!

Photographs Of Places I've Lived # 3: Little Brook Apartments

 (image from Google Maps)

My family lived in the Little Brook Apartments for I believe the entirety of my third grade year.  I have many memories from that time.  I told many of those stories in a blog post a while back.  I wanted to add a bit since I am reminiscing.

At Little Brook Apartments I went to my first, & maybe my last, "bible study classes."  Our apartment was on the first floor, but I remember going upstairs to someone's apartment, lured by the promise of juice & cookies.  There were several of us of many different ages - I would've been 9, but there were teenage girls there.  The probably seventeen- or eighteen-year-old leading the study talked about the battle of Jericho.  I hadn't heard that story before - it was closer to a Greek myth, which I loved, than other bible stuff I'd been exposed to.  Afterwards, being completely creepy, he told us he was planning an "orgy."  Most of us had heard the word & felt it had naughty connotations, but he assured us, it just meant "party."  I don't know if he ever had his orgy, just that I never went back to his bible study.

My sister Karin had become involved at a nearby Baptist Church & one day dragged us with her, so I had a more normal bible study with kids my age while the regular services were going on.  There was juice & cookies, thank goodness, but we talked about Noah instead.  I knew that story.  Ho-hum.  My sister left that church at some point because, she said, the pastor propositioned her.  She would've been fifteen or sixteen at the time.

In the blog post that I linked above (which I have linked again), I mentioned that behind the apartment's back wall was basically an overgrown lot which had dirt bike trails; today that area is developed, & the apartment butts up against backyards of homes now.  We had found a rotting home back there in which to play, but my mother forbade us to go there ever again, & her control over us was such we never did.  Another thing we discovered was that we could climb down into the rain sewers.  (If that's what they were called.)  We were little then, & it was amazing to crawl through dark pipes & then peep up - like raccoons! - to busy streets.  There was one entrance, in the apartment's parking lot, which was big enough for us to shimmy down.  I remember how fun that day was.  Of course my mother told me I could never go down there again.  & I never did.

It was there that I met someone who was one of the first people who seemed to like me for me.  His name was Glen Davis.  (It was something of a joke between us that people sometimes called me Glen, & for some reason him Gary.  Our names were not as common then I suppose - though I suspect they're less common now - well, Gary, at least.)  Glen was athletic & adorable, the opposite of me, & his friendship in third grade made the nascent "jocks" - who even then could barely tolerate me - acknowledge my presence.  In PE, Glen (a born team captain) would pick me for his side over other players who, frankly, were better at the sports than I was.  His older sister became friends with my sister Karin.  I remember they moved out of the apartments before we did - we visited them once in another apartment complex down the street, & Glen, my little brother Chris, & I were bouncing on his bed, when a bedspring burst through - & into my foot.  I bled a lot.  I cried a lot more.  It wasn't that bad, ultimately.

It may have been at Glen's apartment - though I suspect it was at someone else's - that I had one of the most difficult problems of my young age.  I had eaten something that gave me food poisoning.  I had found myself with both diarrhea & with the urge to vomit simultaneously.  I made it to a bathroom but had to figure out, with the sluice open at both ends at it were, how to deal with it.  Suspecting it would be worse to clean up excrement than vomit, I sat on the toilet & hurked all over my legs.  Luckily I was very, very sick, so I was sent home, & no big deal was made of the mess I made.  I am sad to say I've had to make that decision more than once in my life since then.

Ultimately I think I was happy there.  I mentioned in the earlier blog (shall I link it again?) that I loved being woken by the train in the mornings.  My mother finally let us walk to school alone - we lived just a few blocks away.  I was doing well in school & had a moderate number of acquaintances who liked to play superheroes from the comics I read over & over.  In my mind's eye I can even walk around the little apartment in which we lived - it wasn't very big, but I suspect I found it comforting in a way I hadn't in any other place I lived.  Maybe I was in the process of growing into me.

My mother seemed to blame me & my little brother for tensions with the manager of the complex - she lived across the little breezeway from us & did not like us hanging out around her back patio - & we had to leave in the summer of 1977 I believe.  Like the other times we left an apartment, it happened fast - I of course was not consulted.  The next place we lived was farther away*, & I lost touch with the many people I knew around there.  Which is natural.  But I do have a fondness for the Little Brook Apartments I hadn't realized until I began writing this tonight.

It's fascinating that, of all the apartments I lived in during my childhood & adolescence, the Little Brook Apartments have never changed its name.  It can't be because the brand is so great.  Maybe it never felt the need.  They have stood for at least forty-four years, & probably more - they certainly weren't new when we moved in.

*Just to give you a sense of how close the apartments in which I lived from the ages of let's say four to ten, here they are on a map:

Click to enlarge.  On the top left is "Kingsley Crossing" - it was called Kingsley Manor when I lived there.  On the top right is "Spanish Stone," which was called "Lockwood Arms" when I lived there.  & at the bottom left - just south of "Kingsley Crossing," is Little Brook.  An easy walk to any of them.  By the way, the public storage space to the east of "Kingsley Crossing" used to be a giant empty lot full of pecan trees - & a great place to play when I lived at Little Brook.

Self Help Radio 090720: Patience

(It's Patience personified!  Original image here.)

The wait is over.  Here's this week's Self Help Radio, a show about patience.  You might have heard it yesterday, but if you didn't, you don't have to wait any longer!  The show, it turns out, is for the patient & impatient alike.  But if you weren't waiting?  It might be a surprise - possibly a good surprise, more probably a bad one.

You can listen if you'd like now & after a decent waiting period at the Self Help Radio website.  Remember, you'll need a username (SHR) & a password (selfhelp) to listen.  It starts right away (depending on your internet collection) so no patience is necessary.  What happened on the show is below.

Self Help Radio Patience Show

"Patience" Mannequin Pussy _Patience_
"Patience" Illuminati Hotties _Kiss Yr Frenemies_
"Patience (Saturday Live - BBC 1 Radio Session)" Lloyd Cole & The Commotions _Rattlesnakes_

introduction & definitions

"Patience & Fortitude" Count Basie & His Orchestra _1945-1946_
"Patient" The Man From Delmonte _Good Things In Life_
"Patience Is Rewarded" Melba Moore _Look What You're Doing To The Man_
"Patiently" Rilo Kiley _Rkives_
"Patience" Lee "Scratch" Perry & The Subatomic Sound System _Super Ape Returns To Conquer_

interview with Corporal Dodd Mckuen, author of The Patience Of Saints

"Patience Of A Saint" One The Juggler _Nearly A Sin_
"Patience" Celebrate The Nun _Continuous_
"Losing Patience" Operator Please _Gloves_
"The Patience Of A Saint" Electronic _Electronic_
"My Patience Keeps Running Out" T-Bone Walker _Stormy Monday Blues_

a Self Help Radio workshop Patient Woman interrupts!

"The Impatient Years" Ella Fitzgerald _1954-1955_
"Impatiente (D'etre Seule Pour Pleurer)" The Gam's _C'est Chic! French Girl Singers Of The 1960s_
"Impatience" Fastbacks _The Question Is No_
"Impatience" Elvis Costello _North_
"Impatient People" Donnie _The Daily News_

interview with therapist Dr. Peter Dane

"This Patience Is Mine (Demo)" The Orchids _Who Needs Tomorrow_
"Try My Patience" The Rockets _The Rockets_
"Feast Of Patience" Coyle & Sharpe _On The Loose_
"Patient Tigers" Fox _Fox_
"Patiently" The New Birth _Blind Baby/Comin' From All Ends_

conclusion & goodbye

"Patience Is The Key" Bob Andy _Retrospective_
"Patient Sparrow" The Black Hollies _Casting Shadows_
"Slow Patience" The Attractions _Mad About The Wrong Boy_

Whither Patience?

(Image from here.)

Like most impatient people, I have very little patience.  This may have something to do with excess worry & of course a preponderance of anxiety.  Perhaps the three qualities are supposed to exist in equilibrium & having too much of one or two creates a dearth of the third.  Might I suggest that we measure the amount of patience we have in teaspoons, the amount of anxiety we have in handfuls, & the amount of worry we have in volumes of cacophonous noise?  This should help you with your scientific experiments designed to test the above hypothesis.  Cite me in your sources the way my anthropologist wife did in her dissertation: "thanks for nothing, dipshit."

Perhaps I will gain patience on this week's Self Help Radio, which airs tomorrow (Monday) from 8-10am on 90.3/98.3 fm Freeform Portland, online as always at freeformportland.org.  I guess I will have to wait & see.  But what if I don't want to wait?  Why can I listen that show now?  Why isn't it streaming?  Why doesn't an entire season of Self Help Radio drop on a single date so I can listen to it at my convenience?  This is such bullshit.

Preface To Patience: Thinking Ahead To The Anniversary

It is rather impatient of me, but I try to plan my shows out a month ahead of time, & the show that will happen four weeks from Monday will happen on October 5.  Which will be four days shy of October 9.  Which is the anniversary of when Self Help Radio started.  The show began in Austin, Texas, on a Wednesday afternoon at 2pm.  It was October 9, 2002.  The show will officially be eighteen years old.  It would have been off to college if it weren't for the damn virus!

What I have been doing the past few years on the anniversary is revisiting old themes, usually finding newer songs, of course having interviews, stuff like that.  Last year I revisited the theme "1969" from 2005.  (That's a weird sentence to look at.)  I went back to 2005 & found four themes that could bear a second look.  Those are:

Dinner

Dresses

Hate

Lions

Which one would you like the show to re-do?  You can tell me in a comment here, or on the Facebook page, or in a second I'll make a poll on Twitter.  Okay, I just did.  Let me know.

Thanks!

Just Watching Videos Of Rain

When there's rain on the brain.  & you check the weather vane.  The one that's not a bird, it's a Great Dane.  You wait for it to explain.  Why it's so dry it's profane.  You wish to give free reign.  To some magic airplane.  Seed the clouds into a hurricane.  All the water they contain.  No more would remain. Unleashed upon this parched plain.  You know how people maintain.  It's always wet here's their refrain.  A cliché so inane.  Yet passed off as witty & urbane.  But the skies do abstain.  What do they have to gain.  Selfish in their domain.  It give me a migraine.  It seems inhumane.  To cause so much pain.  Until the heavens drain.  I'll sip some warm champagne.  Hope there's something to gain.  Just watching videos of rain.

Photographs Of Places I've Lived # 2: The Lockwood Arms

 

(Image from Google Maps.)

This is a place where I used to live, as it looked like in 2019, many decades after I lived there.  When I lived there, it was called The Lockwood Arms.

While I have some vague memories about living in the apartment complex then-called Kingsley Manor, which I talked about last week, I have many more memories about the Lockwood Arms, where I lived most probably during my first & second grade years, from 1973-1974.  In fact, one of the earliest pictures of me that I have was definitely taken there:

That's what the inside of the place now called "Spanish Stone" looked like when I was six or seven years old.  I've actually talked about the Lockwood Arms on this blog before, so that rather than try to remember anything more about the place, you can read what I've previously written here.  I can't say if where I am standing in this picture was our apartment or not, but I suspect it wasn't.

Something else interesting - when I wrote about this almost ten years ago, the place was called "Orchard Square."  How many names has it had in the forty-five-plus years since I've lived there?  I could swear it was the Lockwood Arms for many years after we left - well into the 1980s.  Who knows?

Self Help Radio 083120: Indiepop A To Z # 63

(I think I got all the images here from Discogs.  Maybe one from Bandcamp?)

Hooray!  We've finished the Indiepop O!  On to the Indiepop P!  I'll never finish this, will I.

My apologies for this post-show announcement happening the day after the show.  I am usually quite busy on Mondays with my KBOO show, I figured it could wait.  I know you don't care, but I am generally an apologetic fellow, so in case someone was like, Why the fuck isn't this posted on Monday afternoon like it's been for the past few months?  Is Gary dead?  Did he die?  Oh shit he's dead!  Things like that escalate quickly without an explanation.

Anyway, the show's now at the Self Help Radio website.  Remember the username (SHR) & the password (selfhelp).  It's mainly music, not a whole lot of me talking, so, you know, probably a better show than usual.

La la.

Self Help Radio Indiepop A To Z # 63
"Crystal Nights (Seven Inches Version)" Ornamental _Crystal Nights_
"Something Big" Jim O'Rourke _Eureka_
"Once" Ortolan _Time On A String_

"Only Friend" Oscar _Cut & Paste_
"Torn Lovers" Other People's Children _Delete.Control.Escape: The Selective Memory Of OPC (2000-2003)_
"Is It Any Wonder" The Other Side _Is It Any Wonder_
"Innocence" The Other Two _The Other Two & You_
"She Walks Down" Other Voices _She Walks Down_

"One Wish Too Many" Our American Cousins _One Wish Too Many_
"Burning" The Outskirts _Heaven's On The Move_
"Keep It Together" Oval-Teen _A Million Shades Of Oval-Teen_
"The Daily Oblivion" Overlord _In Soviet Russia, My Heart Breaks You_
"Left Blue" Owl & The Pussycat _Owl & The Pussycat_
"Isaac Bashevis Singer" The Owls _Daughters & Suns_

"Jetstream" Pacific _Sea Of Sand EP_
"The Rain Comes Down" Pacific Radio _Pacific Radio_
"You're My Kind Of Girl" Page Boys _Whaam! Bam! Thank You Dan! A Whaam! Records Compilation 1981-1984_
"Everything With You" The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart _The Pains Of Being Pure At Heart_
"Where The Railtracks Met" Paint _Transatlantic Pop Explosion_

"Cradle" Paint In Watercolour _Glare_
"Hatebomb" Paintbox _Split 7" with the Ammonites_
"Until Goodbye" A Painted September _Summer Escape_
"Lovelife" The Painted Word _Lovelife_
"Lilac Car" Painting By Numbers _Mit Sonnenschirmen Fingen Wir Den Blütenzauber 12"_

"Brighter Than The Sun" The Pale Corners _Split 7" with the Gresham Flyers_
"(Don't Let Your Love) Start A War" The Pale Fountains _(Don't Let Your Love) Start A War_
"4 O'Clock In The Morning" Pale Lights _Before There Were Pictures_
"Sight Of You" Pale Saints _Barging Into The Presence Of God_

Whither Indiepop A To Z # 63?

(I found this on the Tumblr somewhere.  I don't recall where.  It has nothing to do with the show.  It just seems like the most true thing about me I've ever seen.)

Yes, this week it's the 63rd installment of the Indiepop A To Z series.  I was going to try to collect all the Indiepop A To Z series - almost all of which you can listen to on the Self Help Radio archive page - onto one handy web page, but I ran out of time today, as I am trying to make three radio shows at the same thing.  It can get complicated!

So instead I'll tell you that I believe we will finish the letter O & start the letter P.  & it'll happen from 8-10am (the usual time) on 90.3+98.3fm Freeform Portland, online at freeformportland.org.  Lots of indiepop goodness, not a lot of my regular nonsense, thank goodness.

That is all.

Preface To Indiepop A To Z # 63: This Ripped Out Diary Page

It's very late where we all are.  I crossed over the Columbia River today*, & walked a bit along its northern shore with my dogs.  People swam & almost no one had a mask on, although I did.  My dogs did not.

Did I resist an urge to swim?  I did!  Did I resist an urge to commandeer a boat from the nearby marina & sail away?  I did!  Did I resist an urge to take pictures of families playing in the water because I felt like that would be creepy?  I did!

It was a nice walk nonetheless**.

On the other side of the river, in dear old Portland, we stopped to find donuts & people were out on the street, all of them or almost all of them wearing masks.  It was dark by then & my eyes don't work so well in the dark***.  The donuts, bought in a grocery store, were baked, but were fine.

Maybe I've not mentioned it here before but I love long dog walks in unfamiliar parts of town.  Not so much nature walks, although those are nice too.  I should probably be more methodical but I want to say after many years that I've walked in all the neighborhoods in Portland.  My wife refers to the walks as "palate cleansers," although she might be referencing something I said before.  It certainly sounds like something I'd say****.  I'm thinking we should do these walks more than once a week, if we can find the time.  Like I said, I love them.

Oh, the dogs love them, too.  It makes them happy*****.

* I was on a bridge in a car.  Nothing fancy.
** I took a few non-creepy pictures.
*** I forgot to turn the headlights on as we exited the grocery store, someone drove by & said "Lights, lights, lights!"
**** & not like something she'd day.
***** They get very excited & move faster & with more purpose than on our regular walks.  That's why I think it makes them happy.  They of course don't ever tell me how they're feeling.

Did I Grow Up On Or Near A Children's Book?

Recently I discovered I once had a classmate whose name sounded like it was from a children's book.  It had never occurred to me, so when I was talking about him I thought I had made the name up.  Then I thought of his next-door neighbor whose name was alliterative & then the street on which they lived & then the name of the creek near where they lived.  It would've fit perfectly in a children's book.

We had been friends I believe in first grade.  Maybe second.  I remember one day - I don't know why I did this - I brought all my comic books up to school.  They all fit in a large paper grocery bag.  I guess I wanted to show them to him.  Some time later, he sent me a package with an issue of Detective Comics in it.  We went to the same schools - elementary, middle, & high - but were really never friends after those first few grades.  He grew up tall & thin.  At some point in high school, I ran into him & called him by the name I had used in middle school, but it was a diminutive he rejected.  That was literally the last time I ever saw him.

His next-door neighbor & I were never friends, but I suppose we were friendly.  We knew each other mainly in elementary school.  Years later, when I was hosting a training session for KOOP, I recognized the name of a trainee & realized it was his older brother, who had been two years ahead of us in school.  I don't know if he actually knew me, but I guess he knew my name, because he seemed to recognize me, & he became a great volunteer & a good programmer & I daresay we became friends.

At some party, the older brother brought the younger, who had had a rough time of it in life.  I didn't recognize him at all.  We didn't have much to talk about.  & that was probably the last time I'll ever see him.

This came up because I was talking the other day to someone with the same first name - who spelled it the same way.  I suspected he had wanted to reject the childish diminutive in the same manner.  Then I realized the picture I was painting:

My childhood classmate's name was Robbie Spangle.  His neighbor was Bryan Boyden.  They lived on Glenbrook Drive.  Next to Duck Creek.  Where in a fictional land they solved mysteries & got into wholesome boyish shenanigans.

Too bad there are so few Garys in children's books.  & almost certainly no Gary Dickersons.

Photographs Of Places I've Lived # 1: Kingsley Manor

(Image from Google Maps.)

There's not much information online about the apartment complex called "Kingsley Manor."  Like many apartment buildings in & around the Dallas metroplex where I grew up, it has changed its name quite a bit.  The most recent name is "Kingsley Crossing."  It appears to be quite a dump (check out the online reviews) but that's not to say it wasn't like that when I lived there.

My parents divorced when I was around four years old (which would have been 1972) & my mother had very few choices where to go.  She had seven children - I suspect four or five of them were still at home - & the other two doubtless helped her pay for the apartment.

In my memory's correct - & it isn't - we lived in one of the apartments on the bottom level on the left up there.  I remember looking out of the window into Kingsley Avenue, a moderately busy street.  The front doors opened into a courtyard on the other side.  It wasn't a large place - I don't know how six of us lived there, & I'm not sure whom in my family I can ask to find out the details - but I suspect I lived there until part of my first grade year, or maybe before first grade.

This is the first place I remember living in.  There were other homes - houses my family rented, which my father's drinking caused us to lose - & I've never figured out exactly how many places that was before we moved into Kingsley Manor.  Too bad there aren't any pictures of that place online.  Besides the large white columns, I don't recognize much of those apartments - & I spent a summer delivering the paper to them, & my mother worked at a convenience right next to them until 1987.  So they existed in my world for much longer than I lived in them.

My thought it we lived there somewhat briefly - perhaps 1972 to 1973 or 1974.  Then we moved to an apartment complex down the street.

Self Help Radio 082420: A Giant Show

(Original image here.)

To be honest, when I first thought about doing a "giant" show, I didn't know if I knew any giants.  Then I did the show, & then I got a call from Claude.  Claude's a guy I know who's an actual giant.

"Why didn't you have me on the show?" he asked.
"I guess I forgot your were a giant," I said.
"I'll six foot nine!" he said.
"But you're always sitting down!" I said in my defense.

The moral of the story is, you never know if you have giants in your life, especially if they're usually sitting down.  Ask your friends & acquaintances to stand up every once in a while, it may surprise you - you might be surrounded by giants!

Then maybe play them this week's Self Help Radio, a show about giants & giant things.  You can listen now (whether you're sitting down or not) at the Self Help Radio web page  Remember, username=SHR, password=selfhelp.  The show is exactly two hours long - how did that happen?  You can see what transpired (musically & verbally) below.

A Giant Self Help Radio Show
"Giants" Quintessence _Cries From The Midnight Circus (Ladbroke Grove 1967-78)_
"Giants" Slapp Happy _Desperate Straights_
"Sleeping Giants" The Chills _Soft Bomb_

introduction & definitions

"Giant" Throwing Muses _House Tornado_
"Giant" Muy Cansado _Let It Go_
"Giant Corporation" Maria Bamford _How To Win!_
"Giants' Graves" The Witch & The Robot _On Safari_
"Battle Of The Giants" The Pioneers _Battle Of The Giants_

interview with Dr. Lawrence Schmecken

"Giant Sized Baby Thing" Bow Wow Wow _Your Box Set Pet (The Complete Recordings 1980-1984)_
"Taking Windmills For Giants" The Boy Least Likely To _The Great Perhaps_
"Need Some Giants" The New Pornographers _In The Morse Code Of Brake Lights_
"Kicking: Giant" Some Velvet Sidewalk _Whirlpool_
"Giants" The Stranglers _Giants_

interview with my youngest friends Alyssa & Jason

"The Land Of The Giants" The Cravats _The Land Of The Giants_
"Take A Giant Step" Rising Sons _Rising Sons Featuring Taj Mahal & Ry Cooder_
"The Giants Garden" Audio Active _We Are Audio Active (Tokyo Space Cowboys)_
"When Giants Fall" Love Is All _A Hundred Things Keep Me Up At Night_
"Giant Ear" Fishboy _Zipbangboom_

interview with the Cincinnati Giant's best friend Thad Baxter

"Giant" Desario _Little Darla Has A Treat For You V.27: Eternal Spring Edition_
"Giant" The Honest Johns _Meteor 1986 - 1990_
"Giant Hans" Erase Errata _Nightlife_
"Giant Hands" You Say Party! We Say Die! _Lose All Time_
"The Giant" Johnny Burnette _The Complete Recordings 1955-1964_

conclusion & goodbye

"Jolly Green Giant" _Negativland _Happy Heroes_
"A Giant's Dream" Herman Dune _Sweet Thursday_

Whither A Giant Show?

(Image from here.)

Tomorrow - assuming you're reading this Sunday - or today - assuming you're reading this early Monday - or back on Monday the 24th - assuming you're reading this any other day - although if you're reading this every other day, you'll need to change all the verb tenses from present to past because the events about which this blog post is talking are happening really quite soon - tomorrow Self Help Radio is hosting "a giant show."  What does that mean?

Quite simply, it means a show about giants & giant things.  Quite complicatedly, it means that the original intention was songs about giants but at some point in the collection of songs about giants the songs about giant things had also amassed & some of them were really good & it was like, "Why exclude these things because they're giant too just not giants."  Quite Germanly, ich kann wirklich kein Deutsch. Ich habe einen Online-Übersetzer verwendet, um dies zu schreiben. Meine deutschen Vorfahren würden sich zutiefst schämen. Naja. Darf ich auch hinzufügen, daß ich drei schöne Hunde habe?

In any event, the event of tomorrow is Self Help Radio's "giant show."  It will happen at all altitudes where one can listen from 8-10am on 90.3+98.3fm Freeform Portland & online at freeformportland.org.

Listen!  It will make you feel like a giant!

Preface To A Giant Show: Hairless Giants

Somebody was reading to me - sorry, I'll get to talking about giants or whatever in a second - the history of toupees.  I'm sorry, I mean toupées.  Mustn't forget the accent aigu!  By the way, I wasn't sure I spelled "aigu" properly - I thought it was "ague" because that's sort of how I pronounce it - & I found typed quickly into a search engine, "accent age" - & I got this response:

Accents are forever."  Subheading: By their first birthday, babies are getting locked into the sounds of the language they hear spoken.

That's more about accents from a foreign language rather than regional accents; I actually worked pretty hard when I was sixteen years old to lose the Southern accent that I once had & that graces the voices of all of my siblings.  Actually, my mother, who is German, speaks English - I've been told - with a Southern accent on top of her German accent!

Anyway, someone was reading me an article about the toupée (with the accent aigu) (which my blogger spellcheck says is incorrectly spelled, & it says the same about toupée but not toupee) in which it was said the oldest example of a toupée was found in an Egyptian tomb dated over five thousand years ago.  It also mentioned the Ovid quote, "Ugly are hornless bulls, a field without grass is an eyesore. So is a tree without leaves, so is a head without hair."  Gosh male people have had to deal with the stigma of baldness for a long time!

Toupée use has doubtless grown as we've begun living longer.  I myself have less hair every day.  I remember when I was looking for some consolation from the wife about my fear of balding, I asked if I might have a bald spot forming, hoping she would realize that I wanted her to say no, my hair was fine.  She did say no - that was momentarily gratifying - but then she said, "But of course your hair is thinning.  So maybe soon."

My hair was thinning!  I wouldn't buy a toupée though.  It just seems silly.  It's like when the dentist asks if I am interested in teeth whitening.  Isn't that something one does to feel - not necessarily to be - more attractive?  I've never really felt attractive, so doing something to make me feel attractive seems improbable & silly.  Still, I thought, it might be fun to read an article or even a short book about the history of toupées & wigs.  If only I wasn't always working on radio shows!

Like this one coming up about giants!  I was never going to be a giant myself but I do believe that I am actually shrinking.  The last time I had my height checked, I was around 5/8ths of an inch shorter than the last time I had my height checked.  That doesn't bode well.  In fact, it bodes ill.  Bald & shrimpy, my future seems bleak.  I wonder if it's possible to suddenly grow a hunchback in one's dotage?  If so, I'm doomed.

The word "toupée" by the way comes from the French & means "tuft of hair," or "forelock."  The word itself admits it's not the entire head of hair.  I like that.

Giants probably don't worry about hair loss.  Who can see the top of their heads, anyway?

Project Spacesuit

There once was a suit who wanted to go into space.  It made a list in which, this is true, it wrote, "Prose & cons."  One might be forgiven for thinking it intended to write a musical comedy that takes place in a prison.

Was there someone looking in your mailbox recently?  Don't just be suspicious - announce it to the world!  Someone may need the extra outrage!

The suit didn't have any idea how it would get to space.  It barely got out at all.  It belonged to a stay-at-home dad who had no real occasion to wear it.  Then the virus happened.

It's too hard to keep the cat indoors!  Why do you want me to keep the cat indoors?  It wants to go out, let's just let it out!  The cat's missing?  Really?  Let's put flyers up!  Let's do everything possible to get it back home!

During a commercial break, the suit slipped out.  This was easier than it had imagined.  With a hat to cover its lack of a head, & with a bold saunter that was generally ignored, it managed even to board a flight to Houston.  NASA here we come!

The man next door - he - he's up to his neck in palm oil.  He's just covered in it.  He's slathering it all over himself & he's laughing.  Why would he take such great joy in this?  Doesn't he know?  Should we mention it?  He should know.

NASA met the suit at the airport, I believe it's called Dead George Bush Airport, as it arrived in Houston.  The suit called ahead.  NASA explained that they don't actually send rockets into space anymore.  That happens in Russia.  But here, they made the suit a passport.

It's been so dry recently.  Also things are on fire.  Did we mean to keep everything on fire for so many months of the year?  We should maybe rethink that.  We can't?  There's simply no way to do anything differently that would mean we wouldn't be on fire for most of the year?  Ah well.

The suit landed in Russia & was whisked away to a platform where a rocket was waiting.  It didn't understand Russian, but it knew the universal language of "go that way & you'll be there."  Forced to sit in-between an American astronaut & some Belgian dude who smelled of chocolate, the suit felt for the first time a slight anxiety.  Maybe it was the chocolate odor.

You know that sort-of overpolite way of saying thank you that goes, "You're too kind"?  It's not true.  There simply isn't anyone too kind.  There hasn't been for a while.  When you hear someone say that, remember: it's said with derision, not with gratitude.

At the International Space Station a scientist from Ohio took the suit & showed it the earth moving below.  Then she said, "Hey, you know what?  You're a space suit now!"  The suit had never felt prouder.  Or happier.  Do suits feel happiness?  Probably not.  But pride, sure.  They're clothes, after all!

How Very Difficult To Make Very Little Sense

Sir, if I may:
You logged into your journal on this late date the following algorithm:
Sloth, kettle, hypospray, collocation.
You expect us, perchance, to solve this as a riddle?

Nonsense, my lord!

Yet may I ask what rights do you take to have, to sully mine own things with your espy?

My espy?

Your espy.

I guess I'm in charge.  I can look at what I want.

That hardly seems in keeping with principles of privacy & civil liberties.

Why do you think we have privacy & civil liberties?

& thus you have divined the meaning of "sloth"!

What sort of game are you playing here?

Is it a game?  Or is it a gamelan?

I'm pretty sure I wouldn't confuse a game with an Indonesian percussion instrument.

It's not one instrument!  It's several.

& you're thinking it resembles a kettle.

To the untrained eye.

Oh god what a stretch.  Look, I don't want to do this anymore.

We're halfway through!

Please don't.

But I...

Star Trek reference.

Damn it!

I mean, I know what a frickin' hypospray is.

Your conscience shall call you coward!

What are you doing?

Looking up "collocation" on my phone.

What are these "phones" of which you speak?

"The habitual juxtaposition of a particular word with another word or words with a frequency greater than chance."

Ha ha, like magic you find...

So your point is "sloth, kettle, hypospray, & collocation" is not collocation & never will be.

Hunh.

Well.

Why were you looking in my journal anyway?

You told me to look into your journal!
You said to look into your journal for an algorithm.

Oh yeah.

Then you said "talk in that fakey voice you talk in when you're at ren fairs."

Speaking of ren fairs - why don't we ever do anything fun anymore?

The pandemic.

This damn pandemic!

Self Help Radio 081720: Nothing Left

(Original image here.)

Well.  There's nothing left of Self Help Radio.  Not after this show.

Please note, Self Help Radio is not comparing itself to devastation as that left after a natural disaster, or a human-made disaster like war, or the disaster of time, like the ruins of once-thriving cities.  No, the show just kinda feels that way.

What is there to do after such a feeling?  If there's nothing left, what can you do?  Unless - could it be?  Has the show been engaging in hyperbole?  What if there is, in fact, something left?  Maybe something was saved after nothing was left.  Or maybe - bear with me here - while we thought that there was nothing left, it turns that nothing left.  Something didn't leave.  Nothing left.  & frankly, nothing was holding Self Help Radio back.

Oh, wait.  That means there'll be another episode next week.  Fuck.

If you enjoy the sensation of experiencing nothing left, you may listen to this week's Self Help Radio now & anytime at the Self Help Radio website.  Please remember a username & a password will be needed - I suggest "SHR" for the former, "selfhelp" for the latter.  The show went a smidge over two hours, what happened on the show is listed below.

& now I have nothing left to write.

Self Help Radio Nothing Left Show
"Nothing Left" Roy Milton _Rock 'n' Rhythm & Blues_
"Nothing Left" Buzzcocks _Love Bites_
"Nothing Left" The Primitives _Lovely_

introduction, definitions, & a moment of crisis

"Nothing Left To Do But Cry" Merry Clayton _On The Soul Side_
"Pretty Soon There'll Be Nothing Left For Everybody" Harry Nilsson _Sandman_
"Nothing Left" Jad Fair & Daniel Johnston _Jad Fair & Daniel Johnston_
"Nothing Left To Talk About (feat. Nicky Wire)" Sarah Cracknell _Red Kite_
"Nothing Left To Be Desired" Johnny "Guitar" Watson _A Real Mother For Ya_

Ned Dry's first guest: a juggler?

"Nothing Left At All" The Cranberries _Everybody Else Is Doing It, So Why Can't We?_
"Nothing Left In My Heart" Babes _Untitled (Five Tears)_
"Nothing Left (To Say)" The Lodger _Life Is Sweet_
"Nothing Left To Give" Kelly Garrett _You Step Into My World_
"(Nothing Left But) Poison In The Rain" Herman Düne _Next Year In Zion_

Ned Dry's second guest: singer/songwriter Mayor McCheese

"Nothing Left To Give" Thelma Houston _Motown Floorshakers_
"There Is Nothing Left" The Drums _Encyclopedia_
"Nothing Left" Allison Weiss _Say What You Mean_
"Nothing Left" Seapony _Falling_
"Nothing Left To Lose" Wipers _Land Of The Lost_

Ned Dry's third guest: Sir Archibald Von Poesy

"There's Nothing Left To Do But Cry" The Baroques _Wyld Sydes Volume Six_
"Nothing Left" The Leaving Trains _The Big Jinx_
"Nothing Left To Say" The Eyeliners _Here Comes Trouble_
"Nothing Left To Say" The Makes Nice _Candy Wrapper & Twelve Other Songs_
"Nothing Left To Lose" Earl Thomas _Blue... Not Blues_

conclusion & goodbye

"Nothing Left Of Me" Rita Hosking _Little Boat_
"Nothing Left" Jake Clemons _Eyes On The Horizon_
"Nothing Left" Nikki Sudden _The Boy From Nowhere Who Fell Out Of The Sky, Vol. 3_
"Nothing Left To Say" Skywave _Synthstatic_

Whither Nothing Left?

(Beirut.  Image from here.)

Is this it?  Is there nothing left of Self Help Radio but a radio show with the theme "nothing left"?  Is it finally over?  Is our long national nightmare at long last finally over?!?!?

Nah, it's just a bunch of songs which use the phrase "nothing left."  When you listen to music as much as I do, you start noticing recurring words, phrases, themes.  One of them was "nothing left."  This was before Beirut, before that stupid, terrible accident, & in fact in news reports people would say, "There's nothing left there."  So it makes the show seem somewhat timely, although also somewhat opportunistic, & then it's gross, so I say, the idea for the show happened way before the explosion at the port in Beirut!

So. There'll be nothing left on the radio tomorrow from 8-10am on Freeform Portland, that's Monday morning, on 90.3+98.3fm here in Portland, & online everywhere at freeformportland.org.

But if there's nothing left, what's there to listen to?  Tune in to find out!

Preface To Nothing Left: The Sound Of Silence

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.

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.

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.

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_

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!

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:

(image from here)

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!

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.

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.

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)_

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.

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.

Gainsay

Gainsay.
Painsay.
Painsad.
Painead.
Painend.
Paitend.
Pritend.
Pretend.

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.

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 & definitions Ned Dry interrupts!

"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_

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!