Friday, February 11, 2011

"We got the message. I heard it on the airwaves."

Okay kids.  I am here all alone writing in my tower of darkness.  Just finished watching Tamara Drewe, the Stephen Frears film about writers and sex.  Love writers.  Love sex.  Love writing about sex.  Pathetic, really...and going off course again.  Always love talking about writers.  And speaking of writers, we just celebrated the 183rd birthday of Jules Verne this week.  The father of science fiction.  So who was the mother?  Captain Nemo was always a sort of radical hero to me in my youth.  James Mason in 20,000 Leagues Beneath the Sea.  Or Herbert Lom in Mysterious Island.  And the character Vincent Price played in Master of the World.  All very early anti-war characters.

Question: If Captain Nemo wrote poetry on board of the Nautilus...would he be considered sub versive?

And so I had hoped to carry this Nemonic spirit into the wireless world of Space Pirate Radio.  What does this all mean, you might well ask?  Good question.  I am still caught up in the nostalgia of the show that happens around this time of year.  It seems like a dream...that's got me hypnotised.  It was a dream.  A dream show.  A dream I wanted to share with friends.  I was never motivated by profit.  Never.  Ever.  If I was, I wouldn't be here now.  I'd be unreachable, and soulless and most likely dead.  That is not to say I wasn't a hustler.  I was.  I just wasn't very good at it.  I hustled enough to get my mad projects floating, but not greedy enough to turn them into an empire.  Never was empirical.  Utopian, yes.  Dystopian, no.  Dystope addicts.  There are enough of those folks around to sap all of the oxygen out of the room.  In the early days, all the PROFESSIONALS said Space Pirate Radio was lunacy.  "No Commercial Potential," as someone I once artistically encountered was quoted.  When the avant-avant garde became commercially viable, well... that was another story folks!  Once the crazy cult program was a commercial viability, the number of people in the room changed dramatically.  "Sounds a tad bitter, Steve?"  You bet kiddies.  The circle of friends or the cool commune becomes a convention center.  Check out time: 12 noon (or 11am...don't you just hate those hotels?).  The New Age Hustlers.  Do you want a list?  It's Adolphe Menjou or Robert Taylor testifying before the House.

Captain Nemo.  What a man.  Hello, sailor.  "Are you a Matalot?"  I can hear Charles Trenet singing "La Mer."  Or Debussy. (I don't think Debussy ever sang "La Mer."  Well, maybe after a couple of absinthes. Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder.)  Pirates.

Well, there was a sort of master plan here.  It weathered many stormy changes and transmutations and an ever changing of the guard.  Let me go into details...I will name names. :)  Happy birthday, Captain Nemo. And to Jules Verne El-Equinox.  And looking on birthdays for Thursday February 10th, I noticed that both Glenn Beck and Bertolt Brecht share that date.  Talk about yin and yang.  Beck and Brecht.  Sounds like a rock band or hair shampoo.

But first, the other week, I was down by the harbour...and a couple of wharfs called out and said, "hey Guy, we loved the show...and we're glad to see you doing your thing on the blog."  I was touched to hear the wharfs say this.  It is always a pleasure to be recognized by your piers.

Now the story so far...

Paul Latex of Danzig (...the Paul Latex of OOO feeling good...) :)