radio void

tuesday. it's been over a month now since i've done a live radio show at CHSR. i don't think that doing the weekly ashes, paper & beans was a feather or wing of the albatross round my neck, guano on my shoulders and back, but after eleven and a half years on air it may well have been. i could be in denial that it was part of the a cause rather than a victim of how trapped and spun i've felt of late (or, according to some friends, the past several years). . . grants spiralling downward like birds shot out of the sky. tripping me up like raised broken sidewalk or roots on night-dark paths with no flash or moon illumination to light my way . . . creation itself isn't a problem. i think problems come from feelings of responsibility for those creations or things done with, to, for, because of creations: i.e. writing is one thing. wanting or expecting to do some thing with one's writings is quite another (especially if you expect to get, convince, make someone else do something with your writings. it's no fun begging. collaboration is good if everyone is open and clear out front. making a book, or getting a book made, of one's own writings is only another beginning. books on their own are as inert as a stone or argon gas. they do nothing but sit in boxes. a box of books on the back is dead weight. bill bissett once said, "all publishers in this country have bad backs, especially if they're poets." what does all this have to do with the radio show or the radio void in my life? i'm not sure . . . but i still have not posted what i spun on my last shows

T: plain grey
loc: Senta centar
temp: 26 C
sound: Bombay Dub Orchestra