I've been thinking a lot about stories lately. And just to clarify, I'm not talking about fairy tales or love stories. I'm talking about the things that happen, that go unshared, but ought not to be. This, right here? This thing you're reading? This is a story. And yes, it may not sell books or make millions of dollars in movie sales, but like all stories it deserves to be shared. It deserves an audience. And I REALLY want to give it that. This story, and stories like it. And many other stories out there.
There's a combination of things that's been inspiring this, I think. A big part of it is the things that I've been feeding my brain with lately. Diane Setterfield's The Thirteenth Tale is a book about books. About stories and writing, and only partly about the people that write them. I've been delving into the blogs and available writing of Caribbean writers. People with stories and cultures so rich that it makes me jealous. And I've been been listening to a lot of Selected Shorts, The New Yorker, The Moth, and This American Life on my iPod. All the while I think 'Why don't we have this? Why aren't we telling our stories? When I downloaded an old podcast from Caribbean Free Radio and heard the contributors sitting around a table with a bottle of gin and simply...talking; simply telling the story of that year's Calabash Festival, I was sure that we needed something like that.
On top of that, I still (STILL!) get asked about Poetry Night. About Polymath and about the plans and intentions that we had. And as much as it was stressful and difficult it was always so immeasurably rewarding. Even the disappointments, to me, were great things. And recently we've been having whispers and plotting sessions. Measuring the best places for an antenna. Judging costs of converting a certain upstairs. The phrases 'Radio Station' and 'Our Own' have been meeting in dangerous proximity. We even talk about it as if it already exists, and only half in joke. "That's a good idea." We say. "We'll put that on the programming schedule for Pirate Radio." Pirate Radio. A play on Belize's buccaneering days. That's what I'd call it, at least. I don't think Manza's quite sold on it. Furthermore, I don't think he really knows how excited I am about the prospect. Because i haven't rushed out to buy an antenna or arranged to procure recording equipment, he probably thinks I've brushed it under the rug or that I wasn't really taking him seriously in the first place. That's not the case.
I am taking him seriously. I do listen when he starts talking about these wild ideas. I believe in the brother, ever since he made the first one happen. But after the first one, I stopped worrying about the physical aspect. I stopped worrying about how we're gonna make a stage appear out of thin air. How we're gonna get wiring and speakers. How we're gonna get house lights and get a bunch of people crammed into a room to listen to one tiny, shy voice at a time. Now when he says 'we're going to put on a show.' I believe him. When he says 'Its gonna be outside' I say 'There's gonna be lights in the trees and paper lanterns and people sipping wine on ' and I don't feel stupid for thinking so big. Likewise, when he asked that first time 'You think we can find poets? You think people will be into it?' and I told him 'People will be into it. They'll fucking weep!', he believed me. And it all happened.
Its just that right now, I'm more concerned with content. I don't want to tackle this tiger head on. I'd rather sneak up on it. Death from above. By the time Brah Tiga know's what's happening, I want to already have my teeth in him. So, with that in mind, my after-work project for the next couple days is to take one of the Hard Drives I have at home and converting my home PC into a part time recording and editing PC. I don't have the best mic, but I have a mic. I don't have a studio but I have a room that's quiet if I let it be. I don't have the top of the line software, but I've got Ubuntu, and open source resources. I don't have the stories. Not yet. But I've got the drive. And I've got the imagination.
This is gonna happen. Just watch.
There's a combination of things that's been inspiring this, I think. A big part of it is the things that I've been feeding my brain with lately. Diane Setterfield's The Thirteenth Tale is a book about books. About stories and writing, and only partly about the people that write them. I've been delving into the blogs and available writing of Caribbean writers. People with stories and cultures so rich that it makes me jealous. And I've been been listening to a lot of Selected Shorts, The New Yorker, The Moth, and This American Life on my iPod. All the while I think 'Why don't we have this? Why aren't we telling our stories? When I downloaded an old podcast from Caribbean Free Radio and heard the contributors sitting around a table with a bottle of gin and simply...talking; simply telling the story of that year's Calabash Festival, I was sure that we needed something like that.
On top of that, I still (STILL!) get asked about Poetry Night. About Polymath and about the plans and intentions that we had. And as much as it was stressful and difficult it was always so immeasurably rewarding. Even the disappointments, to me, were great things. And recently we've been having whispers and plotting sessions. Measuring the best places for an antenna. Judging costs of converting a certain upstairs. The phrases 'Radio Station' and 'Our Own' have been meeting in dangerous proximity. We even talk about it as if it already exists, and only half in joke. "That's a good idea." We say. "We'll put that on the programming schedule for Pirate Radio." Pirate Radio. A play on Belize's buccaneering days. That's what I'd call it, at least. I don't think Manza's quite sold on it. Furthermore, I don't think he really knows how excited I am about the prospect. Because i haven't rushed out to buy an antenna or arranged to procure recording equipment, he probably thinks I've brushed it under the rug or that I wasn't really taking him seriously in the first place. That's not the case.
I am taking him seriously. I do listen when he starts talking about these wild ideas. I believe in the brother, ever since he made the first one happen. But after the first one, I stopped worrying about the physical aspect. I stopped worrying about how we're gonna make a stage appear out of thin air. How we're gonna get wiring and speakers. How we're gonna get house lights and get a bunch of people crammed into a room to listen to one tiny, shy voice at a time. Now when he says 'we're going to put on a show.' I believe him. When he says 'Its gonna be outside' I say 'There's gonna be lights in the trees and paper lanterns and people sipping wine on ' and I don't feel stupid for thinking so big. Likewise, when he asked that first time 'You think we can find poets? You think people will be into it?' and I told him 'People will be into it. They'll fucking weep!', he believed me. And it all happened.
Its just that right now, I'm more concerned with content. I don't want to tackle this tiger head on. I'd rather sneak up on it. Death from above. By the time Brah Tiga know's what's happening, I want to already have my teeth in him. So, with that in mind, my after-work project for the next couple days is to take one of the Hard Drives I have at home and converting my home PC into a part time recording and editing PC. I don't have the best mic, but I have a mic. I don't have a studio but I have a room that's quiet if I let it be. I don't have the top of the line software, but I've got Ubuntu, and open source resources. I don't have the stories. Not yet. But I've got the drive. And I've got the imagination.
This is gonna happen. Just watch.
2 comments:
So when this radio show starts you're really using your friends as specimens?
Contributors. Just like last time. I can't do all this shit by myself, damnit!
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