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Too bleary-eyed to write, but dammit, here I am. Suffering from keyboard dyslexia. Spelling out words that may mean something in Serbo-Croatian. Again, the fastest two hours you can spend in your life... the air studio. Watching the clock. Filling out paperwork to satisfy the FCC (or else they'll have you in the same cell with Mike Tyson when they prosecute). Feeling your brains fizz when the headphones short out. Grabbing calls on the fly, and sounding coherent. PSA's. Promos. Making your voice sound convincing, but trying to connect with folks on the other side of the speakers. Keeping 3 Cd trays filled, or 3 turntables, or the DAT. ...with thumping bass and drums. Music so new you have to unwrap it before you throw it out. Tracks suggesting themselves as the beats pass. Casting out radio waves to the ether and beyond. Vibe alive. Then you gotta come back to earth and cue up the tight-assed BBC. And I say to myself, what a wonderful world. Better than drugs. Step back into reality, and there's that damn monkey looking for a ride. I'd like to shake his ass off with some live music. Momma won't dance. Anyone care to shimmy? |
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