Monday, July 16, 2018

On the beach

Being "on the beach" is a term used in the radio industry meaning "unemployed but looking for my next job."  As in, might as well enjoy my down time, and spend it on the beach.

I do not like the term, because I don't like beaches.  Well, not so much beaches, but heat and sunlight and humidity.  AND SEAGULLS.  Somebody explain to me why Dayton, landlocked for thousands of miles in all directions, had SEAGULLS, which are terrifyingly huge flapping dinosaurs that could easily make off with a newborn, no exaggeration.

But it appears I might not be on the beach much longer.

Of course, I have had steady income from my podcasting gig, and that's been creatively rewarding as well.  I've done some really great work.  

Two avenues present themselves to me this week.  I will know by Friday which one I am going down.


Saturday, June 30, 2018

Picking at a sore

I have now been producing audio dramas for this company for eighteen months, with no complaint from them or me.  It is fun to do, and while we do not have the luxury of time nor of budget to refine our process indefinitely, it is surely fun.  I think in an interview with the New York Times, it was compared to actual "pulp fiction," only of the audio type.  

Pulp fiction was a specific type of story-telling that doesn't exist much today... it started dying out in the 70s.  I could feel down on myself that I am not producing NPR's highly acclaimed Serial, but it's throw-back, dime-store cousin, but then I remind myself that Stephen King sustained his college years writing pulp novels and look how he turned out.

But it has been very educational as well.  For example, I had no idea that Kroger's employees have a union because of a young pre-crime-boss Jimmy Hoffa, who brought their business to a standstill by having a strike against strawberries.  I had no idea that one of the major conspiracy theories, which in my mind seems to be possibly the truth, that the true reason for Marilyn Monroe's "death" was covered up by an enema laced with barbiturates, which may or may not be true, but also that enemas were very fashionable in 50's Hollywood circles.  And I had no idea that many a serial killer's victim nowadays may have escaped excruciating torture thanks to the invention of the freezer and the plastic ice cube tray.

Before that, you had those metal manual ice cube trays (see Kill Bill Vol. 2 during the Bud/Elle scene for one if you need a reference), but these were messy affairs and it seems that many people preferred to just buy blocks of ice and chip away at them with ice picks, whether or not they actually preferred the "rough edges," per Basic Instinct.

I say this because I have never seen one fucking ice pick in my life, and these serial killers used to use them all the time, in exactly the worst ways you can imagine.  In the earhole.  In the eyes.  Up the fanny (British for vagina).  In the back door.  And possibly worst of all, in the male pee-hole, almost certainly as torture when the victim was still alive.  And usually to torture teens, or worse, pre-teens.

Of course as ice picks become less proliferous, serial killers will find other, more inventive ways to off somebody.  I am just glad it is statistically unlikely now that I might be found dead one day with my wee-wee violated by an ice pick and a bum full of barbiturate enema.

Monday, June 25, 2018

Dear White People

Hey

Don't get upset that they fuck better than you

It does mean they have kids, but they begged you for birth control and family planning

and you said no, and no abortions neither

So what were they going to do with their babies?

Except let them grow up to be rap stars

And Beyoncé

And win the children over

And leave you in the past

Sunday, May 27, 2018

Raisin' me higher and higher

Out of the blue I got a raise.  

I mean, I still am looking for a full-time job with benefits, but I was pleasantly surprised because I can't remember the last time I got a raise doing radio that didn't involve getting a new job somewhere else.

Technically, beginning next month, I'll be back in the black again, and if no other knock-on-wood unexpected expenses crop up, I will be able to work on my credit card debt next... my car is paid off already, two years early.

(Oh also I have paid my car off.)

I think the next thing to do is to buy an actual, custom built audio/video editing rig, so that I might also begin editing video again and doing voice-work.  My brother's house is all wood, so it's nearly impossible to voice anything without sounding like you're in an echo chamber.  Plus this laptop really doesn't have the power to render graphics like I want to start doing.  Also, I'd be able to supply character voices for my projects, and play an MMORPG I have my eye on that's in development.

Also I am thinking of buying a Nintendo Switch.

Anyway, back to work.

Thursday, February 1, 2018

Well fuck

That job possibility went tits up faster than a hooker in the Oval Office.  Dammit.

Friday, January 12, 2018

Spreading the news

In most people's lives, you are considered lucky if you get to reboot once or twice.  Pick up all your belongings, travel to a new destination, begin again, fresh.

I don't so much reboot that way... my changes are more akin to Morty incurring the wrath of the squirrels or Cronenberging an entire planet, and having to scuttle off to a side universe and hope nobody notices the me-sized lump of freshly dug dirt in the backyard.

Seems like things are lining up for me to do that again.  Not sure I'm really digging it.  After all, if I have another stroke, pretty sure that means this time I will be a goner, so I better start practicing dialing with my left hand.

Also, it would shine an unwelcome light on me, and I really don't relish flotsam and jetsam from my past washing up to pretend nothing's wrong because of my situation.

Also I am pretty sure the pizza sucks.