Something that Happened

SomethingthatHappened.com

Main Feed

Torrent Podcast Feed

Atom Feed (text)

RSS Feed (text)

Podcasts

Archive

Email

Dear Reader/Listener:

Lest I be judged for it, I inform you now that this web space is a scratch pad, a space for experimentation. Have fun, enjoy, and read much of it, but try not to read too much into it!

--Harold

Want some background music? Please consider tuning in to my Internet radio station VoyagerRadio while you're reading this blog.

Want more blogging fun? You may also be interested in reading my other blog, Transmitting to Earth.

These blogs/sites are also happening:

Joe Frank
Web Feed Central
Anne...Straight from the Hip
Momentshowing
Theory of Everything
Slowmotionlandscape
Netizen News

Something that Happened to your ears (AKA Podcasts, or audio downloads):

"Goodwill Hunting"
"Sampled"
"The Fir Tree, by Hans Christian Andersen
"Sundae Silence"
"iRiver Test"
"Subscription Special"
"From Jay Dedman"
"The Big Sleep"
"Walking Man"
"Resolution"
"It's Gotten Out of Band (Part 3)"
"It's Gotten Out of Band (Part 2)"
"It's Gotten Out of Band (Part 1)"
"Create Your Own Podcast Station"
"Echo"
"Tinkering"
"Explanation/Send Me Audio"
"Neighbors"
"Percentages"
untitled audio post 11/05/04
"Post-Election Blues"
"Audio Commentary (with audio commentary)"
"Open Source Schizo"
"(Somewhat) Traditional Radio Program"
"Not Poor Enough"
"Junk Mail"
"Everybody Has Something to Say About Podcasting"
"Dream Job (Part 2)"
"Dream Job (Part 1)"
"Vent"

Something that Happened in the past (AKA Archive):

12/01/2002 - 12/31/2002 01/01/2003 - 01/31/2003 02/01/2003 - 02/28/2003 04/01/2003 - 04/30/2003 05/01/2003 - 05/31/2003 06/01/2003 - 06/30/2003 07/01/2003 - 07/31/2003 08/01/2003 - 08/31/2003 09/01/2003 - 09/30/2003 10/01/2003 - 10/31/2003 11/01/2003 - 11/30/2003 12/01/2003 - 12/31/2003 01/01/2004 - 01/31/2004 02/01/2004 - 02/29/2004 03/01/2004 - 03/31/2004 04/01/2004 - 04/30/2004 05/01/2004 - 05/31/2004 06/01/2004 - 06/30/2004 07/01/2004 - 07/31/2004 08/01/2004 - 08/31/2004 09/01/2004 - 09/30/2004 10/01/2004 - 10/31/2004 11/01/2004 - 11/30/2004 12/01/2004 - 12/31/2004 01/01/2005 - 01/31/2005

Need more blog? Read Transmitting to Earth, my other blog.

A narrative experiment by Harold J. Johnson, Master Architect of VoyagerRadio and Humble Operator of The Great Glass Elevator (currently out of commission).

Just remember, not everything you read or hear is true. Everything else is - or can be, depending on your perspective.

Wednesday, October 29, 2003
A difficult day, leaving mom in the Assisted Living facility. I had a tremendous amount of trouble letting her go. I wanted to maintain eye contact until the moment we parted (Why is it I'm so obsessed with doing that?), but found one of the staff members, N___, drawing her away from me toward the Activities Room, as mom silently protested/submitted. So my last glimpse of her was from behind, as she was led to her new life.

Luckily, dad was waiting outside. I don't know how well I would have handled this had I followed my morning plan--walking as far as I could toward Westwood until I could walk no longer, then catching a cab or one of the few remaining buses still running in this city while the MTA strike continues. So dad drove us, while the fires raged on, the smoke now covering the landscape like a dirty screen door--a shabby view of the city, but one filled with hope, a renewal--for with the burn comes restoral, a change and a return to order. In fact, even while the fire rages on, the world is still in its natural state; as the dead trees are being consumed and unwelcome houses are being scorched and torched and burned to the ground, the world smiles benignly, for it realizes that all is well and normal--everything just seems more heightened now, but that's because we're not used to the flares that are supposed to erupt from time to time.

So burn, baby, burn, and return me to my sanctuary, a place not far from mother's womb. Wake me with a smile right now, because I'm tired, and sore, and my heart hurts. Rub my belly and coo in my ear. If there was ever a time I needed it, that time is now, as the fires still threaten to consume the towns. As far as I'm concerned, those towns can burn right down to the ground--nature never welcomed us there, for she wants to grow, and burn, and be her wild uninhibited self. But let's walk away with unscorched hearts--let us heal, and grow, and learn to accept nature's nature, and let the fire in my heart flare down to a steady candle, as it once was.
10/29/2003 11:59:32 PM