Radio Chthulucene 87.9 FM

I was able to receive feedback from my classmates on my piece, and the consensus was that there was some confusion on the different stations. As we are tuning into only one station, it would be weird to have other stations within the one station, which I realize now. I have modified my piece to be more about my radio special in alignment with the title, and I have also included more music rather than having lyrics in italics within the writing. Now that I have modified it, I think it flows a lot better than the original draft, which made more sense on the page, but once recorded, not so much.

I struggled a lot with recording the first draft; the volume of the recordings were at varying levels, and it didn’t flow well, and there was lots of silence I didn’t know how to remedy. In my second recording, it’s mostly my voice in different tones, with inclusions of Mary Oliver’s poem and excerpts from Phoebe Bridgers’ songs. I plan on adding some calm music in the background while I’m speaking between specials. 

I thankfully was able to secure a spot for my radio, the Revelle Anchor, after communication with Revelle Reversations. My partner in the project has also finished her radio, so we are both set for Tuesday. All I need to do is add some music, and it will be complete for the exhibition. I have provided my new draft below.

The Most Annoying Girl in the World’s Radio Special

*tale end of Georgia by Phoebe Bridgers fading out* Hello and welcome to the most annoying girl in the world’s radio special! I’m your host, Sara Schibuola. First up we have Wild Geese by Mary Oliver:

[You do not have to be good. You do not have to be good. You do not have to be good. You do not have to be good. You do not have to be good.]

-Mary Oliver

-Simone de Beauvoir

“You do not have to be good.” So powerful – I hope you enjoyed it! Oh, and one final note:

(Peut-être que si j’ai commencé avec une ligne d’un poème de Mary Oliver, avec une combinaison du style de Simone de Beauvoir de La Femme Détruite,  je semblerai intelligente.)

After our next song, we’ll have a personal anecdote on the everlasting experience of loneliness:

*Waiting Room by Phoebe Bridgers*…well, I hope you all enjoyed that! And because you are all such good listeners, here’s not one but two poems to meditate on:

[[Will I show you the birds one day on their wires? Or the dogs behind fences? There is one that stares. He follows with his head. He watches, tired eyes. Come wintertime, raindrops on the eucalyptus, and maybe you will see. 

Maybe I will be able to scrub you clean. Until you’re new again. Until you’re you again.

Now one which recalls my Italian heritage…

Tutto il mondo paese. All the world’s a village. 

We wait for our driver to pick us up from the airport in Bangalore, India. Streams of people are coming in and out of the doors. Luggages are stacked on carts children run amok the screen changes above listing flights and flights. Here and in Europe and in America it’s all the same.

“Tutto il mondo paese,” my father says. “My dad always said that. All the world’s a village.”

My nonno, whom I never met, experienced something like me. He saw difference, and knew it was all the same. How watermelons hang low to the ground,

But I still lost myself. How even in villages,

I cannot find the world.]]]

Phew, that was a lot for me. Let’s get back to Wild Geese:

[Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. 

Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the world goes on.]

(Cela fonctionne-t-il?)

I think I’ve recovered enough for two more teensy poems. Since you all are such a great audience. Then we’ll hear some more Phoebe Bridgers, I promise.

[[A frame with floral tiles, mounted on the wall. Untouched beauty like all those cathedrals. I watch from my perch inside, alone. Even with beckonings, I do not get down. Such is the lesson I learned, a long time ago.

The birds chirp above in languages I cannot speak. Leaves are soft and wet between my fingers. Dirty underneath.]]

[[[The seaweed follows me in the blue of Lake Garda. I remain above water, sunglasses perched on my nose. I try to flick it away, but beside me it remains. My father calls me the seaweed goddess, the way it comes to me; onde bleu e vendi. 

The lake nestled between mountains, and me, 

Called to the shore, with each burning day.

Tiny flecks that make me stay;

Immediate dive, to it I pray,

And it hears me. Onde bleu e vendi.]]]

Such good memories. Sort of. Up next we have Demi Moore by Miss Bridgers, and then our last special of the night.

*Demi Moore by Phoebe Bridgers plays*

Such a touching song. Thank you all for listening today. I hope my words, and Phoebe’s, and Mary Oliver’s, touched you in some way. Here’s one final note from Mary:

[Over and over announcing your place / in the family of things.]

Goodnight!