Weeks 0-52: What I Learned

In which the podcaster stops by a diner, tells you what you don’t want to know, tells you what you do want to know, and bids you adieu.

MY LINKS

Creative website: http://richardloranger.com
Literary Services: http://PowerUnit17.com
Bandcamp page: https://richardloranger.bandcamp.com/ 

Email: hello@richardloranger.com 

LINKS & INFO

Also sprach Zarathustra, tone poem by Richard Strauss 

“Here at the end of all things” – Frodo and Sam escape Mount Doom at the end of Return of the King, dir. Peter Jackson (2003)  

Audacity – Wikipedia page

Four Arguments for the Elimination of Television – Wikipedia page

Porky Pig – Wikipedia page 

Theodor Adorno – Wikipedia page 

Frankfurt School – Wikipedia page 

The Molecule of More by Daniel Z. Lieberman, M.D. and Michael E. Long, Health Sciences Research Commons

Dopamine Nation by Anna Lembke, M.D., NPR interview

Happy the Clown, entry on Broadcast Pioneers of Philadelphia webpage 

Balafon – Wikipedia page  

Heather Cox Richardson’s YouTube channel

Dean Spade’s website

In Defense of Looting by Vicky Osterweil 

Halley Low on Instagram 

The Wizard of Oz on Wikipedia

Joy Harjo – Wikipedia page

Henri Tajfel – Wikipedia page

Rimski & Handkerchief 

Mary Poppins, dir. Robert Stevenson (1964) 

”Hello, I Must Be Going,” sung by Groucho Marx in Animal Crackers (1930)

Transcript

MY 12-MONTH VIDEO FAST

EPISODE 33 – WEEKS 0-52: What I Learned

[FRODO: I’m glad to be with you, Samwise Gamgee, here at the end of all things.]

…and so am I! This is Richard Loranger and welcome to the 33rd and final Episode, covering weeks 0 through 52 of My 12-Month Video Fast. [ALL: Woo-hoo!]

And whew did that go by fast or what? I’m voting for what. Though I have to say in my 60s, tempus does fugit a bit fleeter than it did in my younger and more vulnerable years. It’s almost like I’m not 55 anymore!

We have a lot to cover in this fastravaganza, but before we embark on our twilight voyage, before we step off that pier (whether the White Ship is docked there yet or not), I’d like to add one (or a few hundred) final words to the topic we were discussing in the previous episode, that being the creative process. I hope you don’t mind. It’s just one last thing I thought was important to note (until tomorrow, probably). And as is often the case, I’ll introduce it with a story.

In 1987 I was on a solo road trip from the Midwest to San Francisco, referenced also in Episodes 10, “The Purpose of Rash Action” and 13, “Memory and the Green Door”. If you’ve ever driven across the Great Plains, you’ll understand what I mean when I say that one bleary middle of the night, after driving approximately two billion miles across Nebraska, I swerved desperately off I-80 into the parking lot of what I hoped wasn’t a neon mirage called Cassell’s Family Pancake House, just outside of Ogallala. I needed badly to consume hot foods, to relieve wastes, to wash up, and mostly to walk on actual ground for at least fifty feet. As it turned out, Cassell’s, which was real (though is currently in diner nirvana), had much more than that to avail. I entered dazedly through the vestibule to a long, narrow hallway lined with what seemed like hundreds of pamphlets in racks, mostly of the Dinosaur Egg and Mystery Spot variety. At the end, which I approached with somewhat of a Hitchcock dolly zoom, was a counter with a smiling hostess standing beneath a pair of saw-blade paintings (and possibly a bit of taxidermy as well). It was my first time coming across that particular medium, these being a couple of mountain landscapes portrayed on an extra-large circular and even bigger tree-saw blade. Because of course. I asked for non-smoking (so I must have been off the coffin nails) and was led to a huge spare dining room in which I was the only patron, and was left to my own devices and a menu as large and entertaining as a Farmer’s Almanac (well, almost). As I scribbled in my notebook at the time, which is still, yes, in my possession, in I might add meter and rhyme,

…for there between

the Soup du Jour and Salad Greens

or Turkey Club and Ham on Rye

or Ham or Steak and Eggs one finds

the history of sausage or

the industry of pork

or poems on food and God and cheer

more poignant than a fork.

I even wrote one of them down, and yes, here it is.

COUNTRY KITCHEN

 A gentle evening breeze,

Curtains wafting wispy white

And crusty loaves of bread

Grace our evening meal tonight

On checkered tablecloth

All set with willowware.

“O God, Who art in Heaven,

How we thank Thee for this fare!”

[CRIT VOICE: Now that was a good poem.]

[MOI: Okay, I’m glad you finally liked one, and this takes us right to my point] – Because whatever you think of it, somebody loved writing that and very likely experienced exactly the same uplift, the same joy that anyone does in creating anything, at any level of art and expertise. And that’s important. I don’t think I understood that at the time (“more poignant than a fork”), but I’m glad I’ve figured it out since, because the act of making something – that’s the frontal cortex at work – should always be honored, regardless of what impossible standard anyone might hold it to. And yes there’s a whole conversation to be had about inspiration versus craft and intention versus discovery; but if you come across someone who is clearly happy to have made something, and if you want to live in a more positive world, you can choose to be genuinely happy with them or for them, even for a moment, even if they’re not present. And since things that people have made with joy can appear seemingly out of nowhere and take unexpected forms, to say the least, I would most heartily prevail upon you to keep this in mind as you move through your days.

And so as not to leave you (or me) swimming in that menu in 1987, I should segue by mentioning that the waitress did finally arrive, and I found myself turning to face her knees, and had to crane my neck to ascertain that she was in fact, indeed, and in life very close to seven feet tall. I wonder where she is today.

Where we perch at the end and the beginning of all things.

So: a year ago tomorrow, June 1, 2024, I unplugged my television and began dismantling its accompanying streaming, disc-playing, and gaming apparati. The ostensible goal was to avoid dousing my nervous system in pixels for the following twelve months and to see what happens. Essentially, done. Will I put it back up? I don’t think so, at least not right now, but I’ll address the nuances of that sitch in a bit, as a sort of bow on the cherry.

As I stated from the very beginning, I had no idea what would happen and boy didn’t I. I only knew that I wanted to reclaim my writing brain from some insidious and possibly malevolent force, but beyond that, I wasn’t sure of much. I did, however, sure have a bunch of questions, mostly in the first episode. How about we take a look back and see how well I can answer any of them now. My turn for a pop quiz.

Q1)   What has the extent of time I’ve spent in front of that small screen done to my brain?

A1)   As a rule, I always ask the hardest, most ridiculous question first. But since it seems to be a physiological inquiry, let’s stick to that approach. Clearly it rewired me over a decade or two to crave watching and to find dopaminergic pleasure in certain colors and sounds, certain kinds of voices, certain plotlines and situations over others, etc. But since “rewiring” is itself an analogy, more or less, and scientists only know so much, it’s hard to say if our aesthetic or ideological predilections have been wired in, or if they’re a response to wiring (or something else) that’s already there. More on that in the next question, which is:

Q2)   To what extent has it shaped my mind and how I see the world?

A2)   On the surface, streaming and gaming have loaded me up with cultural capital (of specific sorts, in detriment to others), including references, analogies, methods of discourse and engagement, etc. Of course that happens regardless of what media or culture you are drawn to, come from, or choose to engage with. In regard to specific ideologies, it might help to add a question that I asked in Episode 2, which was, “In what ways have I been indoctrinated?” Well, as I’ve mentioned, subjectively I see myself as wary of ideologies in general, especially inflexible ones, and feel as if I’m not very suggestible – I’m a salesperson’s nightmare – but I do invite any one of you to counter with ways in which you believe I may be. If, however, your argument has a subtext the likes of, “My indoctrination can beat up your indoctrination,” I’m afraid you might find me rather busy.

Q3)   Has it lulled me, or have I needed to be lulled?

A3)   I don’t think I meant “lulled” as “put in a stupor,” though I make a joke about that and though the medium is certainly capable of it. I think I meant more along the lines of mesmerized, as in having my attention captured (or pulled away from other things), to which the answer is definitely yes. And it took a crisis of many months for me to realize how unhappy that re-routed attention was making me. So here we are. On the other hand, the Pac-Man-like hunting and battering of contemporary culture does require a certain level of stupefaction to get through one’s day.

Q4)   Do I really use it to inform my perspective, or is that just another rationale?

A4)   Good question! When I use media with intent, I usually am informing my perspective – like reading a thorough piece of journalism rather than skimming the news feed junk, or watching a documentary to learn something or check out someone else’s perspective. Some viewing might cover both, like watching a film or show that will entertain and inform (e.g. the movie Summer of Soul, about a Black music festival in Harlem in 1969, which told a lot about Black music and culture in New York at that time, plus had tons of incredible sounds; or having watched the Doctor Who or Dark Shadows series to study media history and representation as well as for giddy amusement). In truth, though, more often than not I’ve watched (or gamed) to reinforce my perspectives, like charging through seasons of Law & Order mostly because I enjoy being reminded of how violent a place I found New York to be; or at least as often, I just liked watching pretty people do cool shit (see The Expanse). This year of fast, though, has seen an increase of intention in what I’ve watched, at least most of the time, and I suspect that will continue. I like learning! Or at least I think I do.

Q5)   Will I sleep better or worse?

A5)   Though I reported early on noticing my sleep patterns shifting, ultimately the fast didn’t change much in that regard. I just stay up late reading and writing instead of hunting monsters (or being hunted by them). I do suspect that my dreams are a bit less cinematic, but probably not by much since they’ve historically often been somewhat well-shot and epic.

Q6)   Is there an addictive quality to those flashing lights, a quantifiable dependency, and will I undergo some kind of withdrawal?

A6)   If you’ve been following since the beginning, you already know the answer to that is absolutely.

Q7)   Will I lose my shit or go catatonic?

A7)   Briefly.

Q8)   This final question I didn’t ask outright, but I definitely implied it at the end of Episode 1: Did I stay on topic?

A8)   Given that the topic in general was not specifically how much I’d miss TV but how I might change and improve my life, I’d have to say I covered that pretty well. I also mentioned that the point was to head into “unknown territory – which is vitally refreshing, at least to me.” Now, at the end of said “unknown territory” (and of course the beginning of the coming unknown), I can confirm that it was in fact vital, and enduringly refreshing.

[CRIT VOICE: Yes it was!]

Okay, what was the title of this episode again? Oh yes, “What I Learned”. Not what you really want to know, I’m sure, but that’s what the title says, and we gotta follow that, don’t we?

So here’s my list o’ learns, though I’m sure I’m missing a few (or five hundred).

I proclaim to have learnt:

A lot about media addiction and its specific dopaminergic symptoms, cravings, and withdrawals – like on a cellular level. The urges, lethargy, discomfort, and confusion were all quite real and went on for about a month, at least enough to be disruptive. That’s a shorter length of time than withdrawals for most substances, but at peak they were close to as nasty as those for nicotine, opioids, and methamphetamines, at least to my experience, if briefly. The general cravings, however, at times intense, went on for at least half a year.

I learned a lot about using Audacity (the recording program) and the actual process of recording, how to best use the mic (more or less), recording from laptop, recording live instruments, inserting and layering tracks and audio clips, controlling and removing louder breathing, etc. For about the first six months I was recording paragraph by paragraph out of fear of messing it up, or having the sound quality somehow change in between (which I’ve learned is actually more likely when you do pause like that). After the interviews, though, I finally felt familiar enough with long form editing and how the gosh darn sound worked to record them in one sitting(ish). I’m still an amateur, but a slightly skilled one at least.

I learned a lot about writing (at least monologs) to deadline. I mean, I’ve been writing with intent in a range of genres for more than 45 years, including prose for performance and monolog, but generally at a more leisurely pace. I’d say I spent about 12-15 hours on each episode, starting with jotting notes, writing a draft and two to three revisions, and a long afternoon of recording and editing. I also tended to plan each episode after I’d posted the previous one, so thematically they were somewhat on the fly. Sometimes I knew what it would be, and kept a list of a few potential (or eventual) topics, but for the most part I played it by ear (or brain, or whatever). The episode “Tree” even starts out with me trying to decide what to write about. The final five eps in the podcast, though, were planned in advance, but still just the general themes and titles, not the minutia. 

I bolstered my processes for checking the veracity of old memories, including scouring old notebooks and photo albums, finding old calendars and maps online, making associations with other events from the era, and more – which proved useful in many episodes.

I also got better at working with Photoshop, which granted I’ve used for years to make flyers. I spent varying amounts of time on the logos (clearly), and put myself to challenge when I could. Most turned out pretty close to how I envisioned them, though a few did not. I learned recently, by the way, that people who listen on their phones might only see tiny versions of the logos, some so small that they don’t realize that they’re all different. If you’re curious, you can see them all on my website at richardloranger.com. Under the Podcast tab you can click on Episode Logos and view them all in order.

Learned a bit about how podcasts work out in the world, as I’ve never really been a listener. I did not learn how to accrue a broad audience; I think I was too busy making the darn things to seek people out, and figured those who were attracted to the idea were meant to listen. The most common number of downloads (or listens) was about 20 per episode, with more over the first couple of months and a bit less toward the end. Occasional episodes spiked in listenership, and a couple passed 100 downloads.

And I picked up a ton of random and not-so-random knowledge just putting together and researching for many of the episodes, including:

A lot, lot, lot of interesting stuff from Jerry Mander’s Four Arguments for the Elimination of Television; just to name a few: 

·         The history of commodities, credit banking, and economic manipulations in the 1950s: a.k.a., the fictional “American Dream.”

·         Interesting perspectives from Mander on how built environments affect us.

·         How secondary or indirect experience through media is often taken as if it were first-hand, and can be used to shape perspectives.

·         How televisions aim light directly into our brains, with technology resembling a ray gun..

And from other episodes:

·         A refresher on Susan Sontag and various other authors along the way whom I hadn’t cavorted with in a while – William Blake, Adrienne Rich, William Carlos Williams, Muriel Rukeyser, Peter Shaffer …

·         Porky Pig was not originally slated to be a central Merrie Melodies / Looney Tunes / Warner Brothers character. You never know who’s gonna be a star.

·         Basic research on Theodor Adorno and the Frankfurt School.

·         A little about early reactions to photography by artists and the general public.

·         I’m not always right in my impressions of my own work. (Seems like I’ve learned this before sometime.)

·         I’m a better writer than I was in my 20s.

·         A lot about dopamine, the main culprit in addiction, incrementally at first through articles, and eventually by reading a couple of books (The Molecule of More by Daniel Z. Lieberman, M.D. and Michael E. Long and Dopamine Nation by Anna Lembke, M.D.), along with supplementary reading. Beyond the dopamine info and how it comes into play in many social and cultural situations, I gleaned a lot about the basics of neurotransmitters, parts of the brain, how the brain works in general (as far as they know, anyway), and a bit more than I have on addictive behaviors, though I’ve been around a lot of them in the past. 

·         How to better express body memory.

·         Lots of fun etymologies, especially in the “Get-a-Job” episode, which was not about getting a job, where I parse out both spot-on and slightly askew etymological-ish meanings for “get a job,” “make a living,” “a living wage,” “make it in the world,” and “bring home the bacon.” All in good fun, I promise.

·         That it’s okay to make grunty noises in a podcast.

·         A bunch of stuff about mandalas that I didn’t know before.

·         A lot about tree structures and how they actually work (and communicate) with each other.

·         The history of Happy the Clown, who had such a strong effect on my development.

·         I was born under the influence of ether.

·         Boy oh boy is it hard to keep a perfect beat for ten minutes when you haven’t drummed in quite a while.

·         I got better at playing the balafon.

·         How to edit interviews, which blew my mind how hard it was, especially for a perfectionist like myself. It took me about an hour to edit every five minutes of conversation. Got better with shortcuts on Audacity, but the recordings themselves were challenging. Took me sixty hours each week for three weeks to edit all of the interviews I recorded, which of course made me feel not very professional (and a little crazy). But they came out sounding pretty nice, or so I hear.

·         That I need to get better at being prepared to speak clearly in future interviews (though I liked how casual the conversations turned out). 

·         That I need to prep my interviewees a bit more about speaking with fewer stutters, or pausing to consider an answer before speaking. (That goes for me as well.)

·         I could have been more prepared to talk about really intimate things in a recording.

·         Regarding resistance with joy, I became gladly familiar with Heather Cox Richardson (Historian at Boston College), Dean Spade (trans activist and Associate Professor of Law at Seattle University), and Halley Lowe (known as TheOriginalRevThing on Instagram). Spade spoke about the book In Defense of Looting by Vicky Osterweil, which I still need to pick up.

·         That the dentist was right and I should never put my partial dentures in my pocket.

·         A lot about the many Oz books by L. Frank Baum and others, and the incredible number of films that have been adapted from them globally.

·         A bit about the history of masks in global cultures, and particularly about the history of the KKK hoods (which were originally tools of Spanish Catholic penitence).

·         A lot about the Stonewall Riots and gay NY culture before and after (though I knew some before of course).

·         A bit more than I did about Japanese internment camps during WWII, some of which were as far east as Arkansas.

·         It took until 2019 to have an Indigenous U.S. Poet Laureate (Joy Harjo).

·         A bit about Henri Tajfel, who pioneered social identity theory.

·         The etymology of the word “identity”.

·         More than I have in the past about neurodivergence (including, possibly, my own).

·         More than I wanted to know about a vitreous detachment.

·         A bit about what laughter is (sort of).

·         What Nietzsche and Freud thought about laughter.

·         The history of the word “hubris”.

·         I didn’t learn about the Ecological Footprint while researching for “The H-Word”, rather came across it as I was working on the episode and it made its own way in.

·         A lot about the opening music to 2001: A Space Odyssey, which is the brief opening theme “Sunrise” from the 30-minute tone poem Also sprach Zarathustra by Richard Strauss, from the philosophical novel of the same title by Friedrich Nietzsche.

·         A bit about opera from the perspective of a composer.

·         The full moon in May is the Flower Moon.

Voila!  Look, I’m so smart now!

And that, at least, brings us to June, 2025, or the edge of it anyway. The edge of June. And the clock is ticking.

Which is as good a way as any of saying where I’m at right now…

And what I’d like to do more than anything is yell, I made it! – if not through a perfectly clean fast (and of course we all know there’s no such thing as “clean”), at least to June of 2025. But that’s not true yet. So instead, how about I just tell you what you really want to know…

…about the details of my addiction, which seems to have mostly subsided, and though I’m not ready to look up a meeting of Media Addicts Anonymous (yes it does exist), I know to remain alert if I don’t want this shit coming back at me. The craving to sit and watch streaming seems to be gone, and I’ve no inclination to dive full-body back in to any of it, nor to set up my television and media center any time soon, much as it’s a nicer way to view some video, especially for study and examination. I recently tried watching a couple episodes of The Last of Us to see how they affected me, and honestly I was like, “Eh, that’s okay,” though I could tell that a year ago I’d have been binging it. So, good there.

Thinking of films is a little weird right now, mostly because the idea of watching them feels…gray. That’s the best word I can think of. And I’ve seen movies off and on during the fast, mostly in theaters (and at one point a bit much of that), and some at home, mostly for research (and the occasional backslide). The last of those I saw were Barton Fink on my laptop for the previous episode, thinking maybe I’d enjoy it more than I had in the past, but not, and Thunderbolts* in a theater, to which my reaction was a whole-hearted “Meh.” Maybe it was just those two choices, but I feel so distant from the medium right now, which is honestly a bit worrisome and bittersweet since I’ve had such passion for films for so long. It’s also an odd emotion amidst a “recovery,” if you will, especially since I thought of them as the least problematic medium of the dependency. So that’s a bit of a trade-off, for the moment at least. Maybe I just need a good kick in the Barbie…or something…to get me all excited and shit. Or maybe, in the immortal words of Pee-wee Herman [from clip], “I don’t need to see it, Dottie. I lived it!”

The gaming is the one that I’m most worried about, because I know how easily I can get sucked in for hours, and months. (Evil roommates last forever, apparently.) But it’s also in some ways the safest because it would take more work to get it set up, and I don’t feel in any way driven to do so. In fact it’d feel a little creepy at this point, like lining up old syringes. Also, strangely, just after the video fast got started, I developed an ornery bit of arthritis in my left thumb, and certain kinds of movement, such as reaching and rotating a controller stick, would likely be quite painful. All I can say is it better not by psychosomatic, since it’s also keeping me from playing my fave instruments. Whatever is causing it, the non-gaming propensity is maybe the only not horrible thing about it.

And as for all the excessive scrolling, specifically Instagram and Facebook reels and even to some extent the “News Feed”, an interesting thing has happened with that. You might recall for a while I was feeling like it should be okay to spend a few minutes occasionally watching people dance and sing and be generally joyous. And I still feel that – just check out Rimski and Handkerchief on Instagram or YouTube, if you’re not familiar, who pedal – as in modified bicycle structures supporting an upright piano and double bass – around parts of Britain. In a way this duo epitomizes so many things that I value and find nourishing – they “bicycle” on contraptions with large instruments, on country roads and through villages, sometimes long distances – road trips by self-propulsion – while playing music and singing and creating an atmosphere of positivity and well-being wherever they go. That embodies so much for me and I have social media to thank. (Link in the episode notes.) But, but the scrolls were happening too often and for too long, with a lot of drool time in there. So I tried putting a ten minute timer next to the (hidden) app icons, which works when I remember to set it. But but but something else happened as I found myself looking at resistance hawkers, which bolster me but which I can only take so much of – and that good old malgorithm hasn’t figured that out yet (thankfully). And though I still check in sometimes to catch a rant or two or see if Rimski or Madge & Bisket or Hoodie Fam have anything new, mostly that dahlgorithm is actively keeping me at bay. Go tech!

So yeah this fast is technically ending, and it feels strange to even mention since it seems superfluous with no cravings. And I’m waaaaaay out of the habit of sitting down every evening to wander off to Yum-Yum Land. I think I’ll be pretty steady for reasons mentioned above and a few specific others which I’ll get to in a minute.

Because the podcast is also and definitively ending, and here’s just one more BUT, because you knew there’d be another one, right? Here’s a question that came up at the start that I haven’t addressed. We all know why I did the fast, but why did I do the podcast really? I said in Episode 1 that I might be doing it to study what would happen with the fast or maybe to force myself to do it. In either case, I didn’t have a plan for the podcast – at all, actually – and I knew from the start that no one was going to listen to some guy complaining about how much he misses watching The Handmaid’s Tale or whatever, over and over. So an equally valid question just might be, why did I keep doing it?

Anyone who’s been listening should know by now that I’m a completionist – I hate leaving projects unfinished, much as I have on many occasions. Maybe on some level I was assigning myself some sort of kneejerk Catholic penance, if writing constantly for a year could be considered kneejerk. Those nuns tho. But wait – there’s something – I remember toward the beginning going hahaha, I’m not getting much free time out of this after all, am I? I’d for all practical porpoises just traded TV time for podcast development time. For writing time. Which it was! I’d just expected to have lots of time to work on other writing projects. I even stopped putting up my monthly Home Page on my website (my non-blog) last November, not that I was always consistent with it (lots of games to beat!), but I suddenly didn’t have time for it for another reason – I was directing all my themed writing time podward. Still, I was directing it, and getting in a boatload of praxis. And you know, jumping into cold projects when you haven’t been writing much for a while doesn’t always work out so well. But when you’ve got momentum, when you are REVVED – like say 400-hours-writing-and-200-recording, -editing, -prepping, -and-logoing,-1258-minutes- (that’s-21-hours) -and-121,762-words-not-including-this-episode revved – well, let’s just say I’m thinking that, consciously or no, that might constitute a valid underlying motivation. Just maybe. And I’m proud of how it came out – some episodes are damn good monologs, I think – even though I almost always thought of something to change a day or two after posting, which is why the French say so well, “C’est la vie.” But in going a year with very little planning, I managed to repeat only a few points, which isn’t bad, and I stand by the finished podcast. I think it turned out pretty swell. And I can’t wait to get to what’s next.

Which tumbles us onto the runaway kiddie train of What’s Next. Well I’d tell you but then I’d have to – haha, no seriously, before the fast I’d stalled with just one essay left on a collection of bike messenger stories from the 80s, so that’s right up front. There’s another half-finished collection of road trip memoir story thingies, a poem that’s been trying to leak out, and a few science fiction stories in mind as well. Oh yeah and the current screenplay I’ve been working on with my friend Graham. And mundane as it sounds, I’ll probably go back to posting a themed Home Page on my website, first week of each month at richardloranger.com. Should be a piece of cheesecake after this (mmmmm...), and I also post other stuff there – announcements of upcoming events and new publications, a new photo every month, and the occasional book or film or music or theater review. So check in there. Coming up in June (probably tomorrow) there’ll be a recap of this entire podcast on the Home Page, with extra details on topics and logos and everything. Though the site does have that Podcast tab, I’ll probably use this as a reference page. And I’m thinking of looking into Substack as well, though it is awfully trendy. (So maybe an anti-Substack.)

As far as recording, I want to keep up with those skills but I’m not ready to start another podcast any time soon – ya think? I’ll keep this one archived where it is for a while, and fill in some of the missing transcripts and links. But I have another recording project to announce, for those of you who will miss my dulcet tones, and that’s a Bandcamp page (ta-da!) I’ve started for recordings of poetry and spoken stuff. It’s already up (as of yesterday), and has six super-cool and unusual poems each of which asks a different question. They’re actually in a chapbook with calligraphic artwork from 2013 called 6 Questions, and you can get the chapbook right there on Bandcamp as well, and download the poems (for you, cheap!), or just listen to the darn things for free. You bet. And I’ve also put up a slightly edited version of the meditation from the “Tree” episode, so for $3-cheap you can drift up through a tree anytime. I’ll be recording and putting more stuff up there this summer, and, well, forever! And remember you can always just stop by and listen. You better believe there’s a link in the episode notes, or just go to Bandcamp.com and search my name. 

It looks like I’ll have some naming work coming up shortly, and that’ll help with the bills and general survival stuff. It’s not enough to save my ass so I’ll still be looking for gigs. So if you ever feel in need of literary assistance, whether with your own work or manuscript or setting up a reading or event, I’m usually available and more than happy to assist. You can find my services on a separate website at PowerUnit17.com (with the number, not spelled out, also linked in the ep notes). It needs some revamping (another imminent project!) but it gets the info across. Rather than saying “end of advertisement” like I have before, this time I’ll just call it an open-ended invitation.

So you see, I’ve got more than enough to occupy any spare time I accrue, because I’ve always got a ton of projects in the oven at once. I mean, have you met me? I am Miss-ter Creative Panic themself.

SIGH.

Well, it feels like it’s getting close to time to sign off, but I’m not quite ready to yet. (Some of you may have been ready three weeks ago…) I’ve got some thank yous, which we’ll pretend are the credits so that I can have a few last remarks afterward, a little relevant post-credit scene like any good cinematic universe. First, I have a small but loyal contingent of subscribers who’ve helped pay for the hosting fee from Buzzsprout (whom I should throw a little thanks to as well – they’ve been super helpful and affordable). These generous monthly tips also provided a few sandwiches along the way, which were particularly welcomed this past year.

Here’s to the tribe of kind ones:

Jeffrey Pulis of Fort Worth, TX

Deborah Fruchey of Walnut Creek, CA

Milo Starr Johnson of San Francisco, CA

Debby Segal of Berkeley, CA

Mary Mackey of Berkeley, CA

Steve Arntson of Planet Earth

Hilary Goldstein of Berkeley, CA

Deborah Perry of West Roxbury, MA

Pat Loranger (my mom) of Cape May County, NJ

Drew Mora of Antioch, CA

Harold Lehman of Austin, TX

and Gary Turchin of Berkeley, CA

I’ll also be in touch personally to make sure you cancel your subscriptions if you haven’t already. 

Thanks also to Tom Greenwood of Sway, Lymington, UK, a regular listener who wrote a lovely review of the ‘cast this past August.

And I had six brave souls who allowed me to grill them mercilessly and at length for no other reason than that they’ve managed to survive in America (so far) while making art. Those interviews appeared in the three episodes from this past January. Thanks for your generosity of time and person to: poet and retired teacher Norm Mattox of San Francisco and New York, activist and multi-disciplinary artist Tammy Melody Gomez of Fort Worth, TX, musician and writer Jennifer Blowdryer of New York, poet and impresario Paul Corman-Roberts of Alameda, CA, painter and poet Taneesh Kaur of San Francisco, and filmmaker Ken Paul Rosenthal of Berkeley, CA, a conversation with whom sparked the idea for the podcast last spring, and who gets a charm full of extra thanks for being consistently and insistently supportive all year long. Cheers!

I should also not neglect to recognize graciously my crew here in the studio – I mean the back room of my apartment, I mean in my head – they all live there part-time and have been so generous with their…interjections: Thanks, crew!

[ALL: You’re welcome!]

And, again before my parting remarks, most deserving of thanks would be YOU, intrepid listeners. May rain bless your verdure.

Oh, by the way, I don’t actually know who all of you are. My stats show me locations, like an approximate city, a few of which might be VPNs, but there are repeated locations that I scratch my head about (like Berwyn, IL). So if you’ve listened to some of these episodes, or even just a few and enjoyed them, can you please drop me a note to hello@richardloranger.com to let me know? Thanks for the last time thanks. Whew!

And now I have just three brief bits of maybe magical thinking to leave you with before the stunning finale.

First, thinking one last time here of the challenges ahead, and I realize that this won’t fit every situation but hopefully some for everyone, I’d like to say that I’ve always found strength, when I find myself being mistreated by another human or humans, to just walk away from them in whatever way I can, to clear my plate, to just have no time for it, to rasa my tabula of their lizard-brain goo-goo crapola, and take some succor in the likelihood that they’ll keep doing that to everyone around them until they’ve got nothing left but desolation. And I’ve seen it happen. So have no mental time for jerkwads.

Second, I keep thinking back to the words of Halley Lowe, a.k.a. TheOriginalRevThing on Instagram, who I included via three audio clips toward the end of Episode 25, “Corrode to Joy”. In the first two he speaks with adamant conviction of the importance of loving yourself. Which is true. In the third, which is frequently to mind, he talks about how he long ago adopted “a position of non-offense,” meaning there’s nothing anyone can say to offend him. Though clearly one might have a different reaction to a physical affront, I have to say letting hate bounce right off you (isn’t there a children’s magic chant about just that?) seems like it would definitely lighten your carriage for the journey onward. Cue up “Corrode to Joy” to 37 minutes if you want to hear all his loveliness – or find him on Instagram.

And finally, finally I don’t think I ever mentioned that one of my earliest memories, much clearer and more fulfilling than that of my traumatic third birthday on the Happy the Clown Show, though not long after that, was being taken to (I’m pretty certain) my first motion picture, which was, big surprise here, Mary Poppins. Even more vivid is my memory of clamoring for my parents to take me to see it again and again which they did – several times. Who knows why, but boy did that imprint on me big time – and it explains a lot, I think. 

I keep thinking that I should end this podcast, if not the fast, by giving you a gorgeous big fireworks display, not like boring old Capitalist America fireworks but like no-holds-barred Gandalf the Grey fireworks with hobbits and jigs and mishaps and fake dragons and skybursts that shower flower petals all around you. Or maybe I should turn on a throbbing beat for an all-out dance party – but didn’t we do that a few weeks ago? So then maybe a gigantic potluck feast with every kind of food you like heaped and heaped with wandering troubadours and jugglers and acrobats and kids and dogs running and playing and so much delight you’ll never forget it.

But I’m also inclined, perhaps more so, to leave you sitting quietly and contemplative at an old wooden table looking out over a hillside, with a tall and cool and most delicious glass of water waiting for you. Yeah, that sounds about right.

Rather than simply saying so long, or farewell, or auf wiedersehen, or good-bye, this seems somehow more fitting.

Hello, I must be going

I cannot say I came to stay I must be going

I’m glad I came but just the same I must be going

I’d stay a week or two

I’d stay the summer through

but I am telling you

I must be going. 

This has been My 12-Month Video Fast.