The Secret Radio host is evolving. A deeper more coherent narrative is emerging as the collective is regaining structural integrat. Curious? Here is a sample…
The flourescent lights hurt his eyes. How long have I been gone? He pulls the blanket over his head. He is not tired and he can hear the noise of the ward outside the door. Bits of not quite coherent conversations. Ugh, realizing he wont be able to go back asleep he throw the blanket off and sits up sighing with frustration. There is a tray on the floor with a muffin and an orange juice and maroon bowl with white plastic lid. Oh fuck he thinks to himself. I’m in the hospital again. He thinks of the dream and Kurt Vonnegut comes to mind. Billy Pilgrim has come unstuck in time.
Agent is is sitting on a chair in the small radio booth. The seating is cramped behind a desk unit that contains a mixer, a computer and numerous bits of stereo equipment. The is mixer has numerous sliders and buttons and in front of him held by a mechanical arm is a microphone. “Your listening to Secret Radio I am Agent and this is an intimate transmission for your ears only. We just heard The Schwinn from Karate. I just looked up some old show logs and I found that track and this little bit of writing. Normally I would be exteremely self deprecting and call it bad first year poetry from the 90s but I am trying to be Earnest and overcome my Aging, Jaded and self deprecatory nature. ” He looks at the row of red buttons and sees the laminated label that says CD and pushes the button above it The Cd player whirs to life.