Monday, September 25, 2006


DEAD AIR

Okay, for the three people who actually read this blog, sorry for the month-long hiatus. It'’s not that I had nothing to say (well...) or share, but the real world interfered, as did pure laziness. I am sure that statisticians who blog would tell us that the odds that a new blog like this will die an early death is staggeringly high. I have a felling that the fault largely involves the lack of connection with an audience. I notice that many of the bloggers I visit (whose sites are ultra cool, compared to my ravings) bemoan the dearth of comments left by those who come and go and only leave ghostly footprints in the form of digits on a traffic counter. I' ’m often guilty of being the specter spectator. I come, I see, I like, I leave. But like the disc jockey on pirate radio or that cool college station to the left of the dial, broadcasting at midnight, you hope at least someone is listening. "This is radio free Barstow. Anybody out there? Anyone?"”

I suppose that is one of the big attractions of homebrew radio, cable access TV, and of course the ubiquitous "blog about nothing"” like mine is the anonymity. Share your deepest darkest fetishes with people who'’ll never know you. And the pirate radio station in the dark of night is a very romantic notion to me. So is having my own monster movie show on a public access TV station...but I digress. Playing the music one wants to hear themselves (or the crappy scifi movies one wants to see) and hoping that just one person out there hears it and like it, is a sublime goal. I have a similar feeling when I go into thrift stores. Somewhat like a museum trip, I like to go in alone, undisturbed, prowl around all the sections, have my private communion with the priceless junk of yesterday, and then leave just as anonymously, whether I buy something or not. If I could do it in a trench coat and wide-brimmed hat I probably would.

Nonetheless, it i’s nice to get feedback. I once called up a DJ at my favorite left of the dial college radio station to voice my recognition and support for her musical tastes after she uttered pittifully on the air: "You know, you don'’t have to like my music, but you don'’t have to call me up and tell me I suck, either."” I told her she didn'’t suck, and she said that made her day, and in a way it made my day to have her feel that way. So the point of this long story is: I blame all of you out there in internet land for my laziness.….. just kidding. The point is: please leave feedback if you feel I don'’t suck. Thanks.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...
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natalie said...

you so don't suck, whoever you are!

actually i just tonight stumbled on your blog for the first time and i'm awash in nostalgia, having spent the better part of my young adulthood scouring some the same thrift stores. lakewood, downey, santa fe springs, fullerton, long beach, san pedro, the st. vincent de paul in downtown l.a. -- i miss them...

thank you for letting me mainline my filthy/ barber chair/ marbleized accordion/ waiting room seating/ addiction vicariously tonight from the relative safety of a tiny apartment in new york.

sewingchick said...

You totally don't suck. Just check my blog and you'll see that I've deemed you my hero. I only wished I'd have found your blog sooner! But to make up for lost time, I've been reading all your posts for the last two days and probably commenting more than I should because now you're thinking I'm some kind of psycho...

:)