Pledging and Driving and Camping with Cy Twombly
PRESTORY TOTALLY IRRELEVANT P.S. The mayor (Mike Sullivan) wrote me today and he is going to try to help save the birds from the wire.
So I have this radio show at Valley free Radio, WXOJ-LP, 103.3 FM. It’s a community radio station, grass-roots, volunteer-run and all that. There’s a lot of great and really nice people at VFR doing some great shows.
So we are having a pledge drive this week, all week, and we will be using our show slots to beg for donations, no matter how small. Someone suggested a per show minimum to be collected and somehow that was sort of agreed-upon, before I knew it. Hmmm. My show is about arts and artists so my listenership is not rolling that money way. Not sure if begging for money is most effective and historically we fare better with mailings but we need to get money to do mailings. Oh, the vicious cycle of life. Oh, the drama.
But how do I get fellow struggling artists of humble liefstyles and means to donate money that just isn’t there? I don’t think I do. Maybe I will thus be deemed a pointless and unfundable show. But if anyone wants to donate 5$ or so, call me during my show this Wednesday between 8-9 AM at 413-585-1033.
Streaming at www.valleyfreeradio.org
I was thinking lately that I might write a fairytale about a neurotic and fragile writer who goes to live in a trailer park for purposes of research and everone is pretty nice and the place is all homey-like and fun but for the doublewide that emits noxious gases and is surrounded by poison ivy (because, as you might have noticed, fairytales always have a wicked charater or two) which, as it spreads and spreads, threatens to spread over the whole park and consume it with its poisonous poison ivy. Inside lives the big bad wolf and the wicked witch (recycled bad characters) who thrive since being invented by writers way back when and are gathering up for some formulaic evil-doing, as these things go (think Grinches who hate all Whos and so on).
So the protagonist is antagonized by the invention of her peers, in a sense, and she has to decide whether or not to stay the course long enough to complete her research and risk being harmed or killed by the increasing poison ivy, or stand her ground. As she wavers, she accepts an offer to go camping with Cy Twombly and seeks his advice which is a surprising sort of advice indeed. Together they go to a poker game with the nice trailer park people and next thing they know they are in a famous painting by Anonymous and they are no longer human… yeah, it’s going nowhere, as ill-conceived plans and ideas do.
Woody Allen once wrote a pretty hilarious short story in which, at its conclusion, the protagonist is last seen being chased off the page by a big hairy verb called “Tener”, from Spanish for “to have”. Poignant.