Heard on the radio of the day:
(1) One of the local public radio stations is having a pledge drive, interspersing bits of NPR amidst flogging the audience for money. The morning flogger is an annoyingly perky woman who doesn't always think too hard about what she's putting out on the air. When they came back from a story about the trapped coal miners in Utah, she'd moderated her perkiness to a somber tone, speaking about the tragedy of those men being trapped and needing rescue. Still in the somber tone, she said, "And we here at Radio Station X are trapped and need rescuing, too..."
(2) During the drive time the other night, to avoid the woman who does the flogging in the evening—a dreadfully serious, lecturing creature—I turned to another public radio station, KUSC, our one classical venue in L.A. It was a blessed moment amidst the rancor of the traffic because they were playing, The Lark Ascending, one of my favorites. Transcendent. I felt so much better as the final ephemeral notes faded off. Rich Caparella, the host, is a man who understands quite well what he's putting out on the air. He has one of those dreamy creamy classical music station voices, always so calm, erudite, and mellifluous. In that dreamy creamy voice, he announced, "That was The Lark Ascending by Ralph Vaughn Williams. An anti-road rage offering. Now that it's over, feel free to go back to driving like complete idiots."
Random quote of the day:
"I don't need time. What I need is a deadline."
—Duke Ellington
This is certainly true about me. It was true in school, and one of the things my employers have always appreciated about me was that I'm good at nailing deadlines. Unfortunately, I'm not so good at nailing self-imposed deadlines. It's as if my psyche is saying, "Her? You don't really have to take her seriously."
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