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What's been saving my sanity this past couple of months is a strange little radio station out of Jersey City called WFMU.
It's totally non-commercial. Operating expenses are generated through marathons several times a year. The volunter DJs are a motley crew. There's X-Saturday Night Live writer Andy Breckman who upon release from the Lorne Michaels gulag went on to create the TV show Monk and has been doing a weird Andy Kaufman-esque show called 7-Second Delay on FMU for the past quarter century; a classical music program called Why Do We Only Listen to Dead People?; a Latin American show, Secret Canine Agents; Mr. Fine Wine's Downtown Soulville; Strength Through Failure (highlighting the failure of rock, the failure of sound, the failure of noise, the failure of the 21st century); and dozens more.
Mostly I listen to FMU on the drive to the Y.
But honestly? If I were at the top of a cliff and could be assured I'd end up in a world where FMU was the elevator Muzak, I take the plunge in a heartbeat. And if I were a character in a Thomas Pynchon novel, I'd rely upon FMU to decipher the Grand Conspiracy for me.
###
Also still working my way through Larry McMurtry-Land.
Terms of Endearment is such a bad book! But has such a powerful ending.
Next up on the jukebox: All My Friends Are Going To Be Strangers. (I must say, however uneven McMurtry's prose is, his titles are always genius.)
###
Mostly this week, I have been sad, sad, sad, sad, sad.
Nothing I can really do about it.
I pull it together when I'm interacting with other people, (and there's a lot of that), but my ground state right now is melancholy.
Human beings suck, you know?
But it's a sunny day for the first time in a week and afternoon temps are supposed to flirt with 70°, and I'm gonna tromp the Highland side of the Walkway, so maybe I'll change my mind.
It's totally non-commercial. Operating expenses are generated through marathons several times a year. The volunter DJs are a motley crew. There's X-Saturday Night Live writer Andy Breckman who upon release from the Lorne Michaels gulag went on to create the TV show Monk and has been doing a weird Andy Kaufman-esque show called 7-Second Delay on FMU for the past quarter century; a classical music program called Why Do We Only Listen to Dead People?; a Latin American show, Secret Canine Agents; Mr. Fine Wine's Downtown Soulville; Strength Through Failure (highlighting the failure of rock, the failure of sound, the failure of noise, the failure of the 21st century); and dozens more.
Mostly I listen to FMU on the drive to the Y.
But honestly? If I were at the top of a cliff and could be assured I'd end up in a world where FMU was the elevator Muzak, I take the plunge in a heartbeat. And if I were a character in a Thomas Pynchon novel, I'd rely upon FMU to decipher the Grand Conspiracy for me.
###
Also still working my way through Larry McMurtry-Land.
Terms of Endearment is such a bad book! But has such a powerful ending.
Next up on the jukebox: All My Friends Are Going To Be Strangers. (I must say, however uneven McMurtry's prose is, his titles are always genius.)
###
Mostly this week, I have been sad, sad, sad, sad, sad.
Nothing I can really do about it.
I pull it together when I'm interacting with other people, (and there's a lot of that), but my ground state right now is melancholy.
Human beings suck, you know?
But it's a sunny day for the first time in a week and afternoon temps are supposed to flirt with 70°, and I'm gonna tromp the Highland side of the Walkway, so maybe I'll change my mind.
