some fiction is true

truth, however, is a matter of perspective

...



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LEST I BE JUDGED FOR THIS
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    dear reader/listener/viewer/enjoyer/co-conspirator:
    lest i be judged for it, i inform you now that this project continues to be a scratch pad, a space for experimentation

    in other words, enjoy what you find here, and feel free to participate, but try not to take anything personal, and don't believe that this project presents an accurate view of me or my life

    this is a window, certainly, but one that hasn't been cleaned in quite some time

    your view may be foggy, obscure...you may see things that aren't really there...

    --harold

    want some background music?
    please consider downloading my most recent music podcast.

    and yes, i love my mom and my dad;
    they've always been good to me, no matter what impression you may have received here

    they never locked me in a cellar or anything
     
    archived stories, or something that happened in the past:

    December 2002 January 2003 February 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 December 2003 January 2004 February 2004 March 2004 April 2004 May 2004 June 2004 July 2004 August 2004 September 2004 October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 February 2005 March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 January 2006 February 2006 March 2006 April 2006 May 2006 June 2006 July 2006 August 2006 September 2006 October 2006 November 2006 December 2006 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 June 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 November 2007 February 2008 March 2008

    i am a member of the

    association of music podcasting

    musicpodcasting.org

    along with these fine music podcasters:

    all florida indies - bing futch
    audio gumshoe - rich palmer
    audio popcorn - krash coarse
    aural icebergs music cast - tiffany rapplean
    capital rock show - bucket aka jason
    darkhorse radio - alan carr
    ears to hear - jill lawton
    eclectic mix - george l smyth
    homegrown podcast - nic treadwell
    indiefeed - chris macdonald
    le jazz affair - sal calfa
    rubyfruit radio - heather smith
    sober cafe podcast - gracie hollombe
    sundown lounge - larry winfield
    tempo of the down - harold (that's me!)
    the darkcompass podcast - rowland cutler
    the fabrications podcast - matt macfarlane
    the phill(er) - phill ramey
    the radiozoom podcast - john bollwitt
    thepillarcast.com - jon tucker
    uc radio podshow - michael yusi
    zaldor's world - les zaldor

    this is...

    something that happened

    somethingthathappened.com
    		stories by harold j. johnson, in various formats - including text, audio, video, and podcasts
     
     
    Friday, February 07, 2003  

    There was someone I met, a new friend, although I remember some kind of conflict started the relationship. It was closing time, late afternoon or something. Some shop, like a wicker basket shop or a wood shop or something. Can’t remember. I was in the parking lot. I was discussing something with this person. There was a sense of urgency. Then I was somewhere else. I felt the need to return to this new friend at some time soon. We had arranged to meet again soon--perhaps we were on a mission or something. Maybe to exhange some information. The information or whatever had the utmost importance. Salvation of the world type of stuff.
    Then old friends. Joe? Byro had a list of names, including my own, with comments written about them. Maybe they were things he remembered and enjoyed to remember about the person. Maybe they were ways the person had tried to help (in this great cause). In any case, it was too late for saving the world. The jig was up. Time was winding down. Other friends may have been there, but they disappeared. I sensed that they left abruptly in order to be where they wanted to be at the last moment. Perhaps with family, perhaps in some special place. I followed Byro, or the person that had been Byro (you know how people morph into other people in dreams)--but I really think it was still Byro, he was the last person with me--toward an area nearby, or not too far away. There were buildings, a parklike-area, a lake and sandy beachfront area. The sun was still up, late afternoon-like. Byro walked to the edge of the lake. I knew time was almost up. I had promised to meet that person, and felt the pull to find him, but I knew there wasn’t enough time. I walked, or looked, toward the parklike area. There were huge--I mean, really really tall swings and I could see two people, appearing male and female, swinging in wide arcs in the sunlight. A picturesque moment, except the swings were really unusually tall, the arcs great sweeping arcs. They were still some way off, but close enough to hear me should I yell. I realized that one of them was my friend, who’s name came to me, “Chris!” I yelled, waving my arm. As he swung, he turned and recognized me, waving back. “Goodbye!” I yelled as a waved goodbye to him. I was happy that I was able to say goodbye to him. Then I turned and ran along the beach toward the lake. Time was nearly up. It was all ending. Perhaps I said something, like “Well, that’s all we can do” or “That’s all she wrote”, as I noticed my friend and I jumped into the air at the edge of the sand, and while in the air I knew it would all end and I impossibly pulled myself back to land on the sand when I should have landed in the water. At that moment the world changed--everything became duller, less bright, the colors of the world were muted, and my friend was gone, and I knew everyone was gone. Immediately I began to rise, against my will, and I was glad that I was still aware and that everything hadn’t disappeared even though everything was changed and everyone else had disappeared, perhaps to their own dimensions or death. As I rose I tried to force myself down, without luck, and as I reached a height perhaps 10 or 20 stories up, I was scared and wondering where I was going and then shocked to see a girl down below, walking swiftly, and as I yelled down, trying to get her attention, I rose higher and higher and I was happy that someone was still there, that everyone wasn’t gone, and I kept rising and then woke up.     2/07/2003 07:32:00 PM (0) comments





     
     

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