That's how I'm hoping to drink the new year. Straight down, day 1 to day 365, and I'll stop at the end of it all and say in a loud, clear voice "Where the hell am I, and whose panties are these?"
Will I? Doubtful. *s* I'm not the sort of person who can simply throw themselves into anything, much less a whole bloody year. I mean honestly, that's a lot of days! I think my best practice is going to involve taking each day singly; wake up each morning, look about with bleary eyes and mutter "Go on, Day, do your worst." Then trip over the cat and end up pitching myself through the window and right out into the azalea bush.
I guess having worked only four days in the last, what, two week or so it's easy to look to the new year with renewed vigour and vim. Enthusiasm comes easy when you've been sitting on your bum for the better part of two weeks.
The Sunday Vagapocalypse launched this morning to a serenely quiet audience of one--my cohost of the morning Vulgar Wizard. Here's hoping the next broadcast (this Sunday morning at 9am CST, not 9pm as I stated at the end of the first broadcast) is better, stronger and faster. It'll certainly be longer--I was very surprised to find how FAST fifteen minutes can pass. I chose that short time frame to let me ease into this thing--the whole Internet Radio thing is very new to me, and while I'm not afraid to fail I'd rather fail in a small and somewhat private manner rather than in front of, say, the entire US House of Representatives.
I must say this, however--the interface betwixt my alluring Southern voice, oozing that gracious charm that we Southern men are known for (gods I'm setting myself up for a big slam there, aren't I?) and the cold, cruel world of the internet airwaves was very easy to use, in spite of the fact that my radio host doesn't really give a lot of instruction prior to your first launch. But launch I did, with the steady (*snort*) Vulgar Wizard at the compass and sail we did. Well, maybe not so much sail as sort of motor around the harbor, losing the anchor overboard, messing up the GPS settings and in general bothering the seagulls and the occasional serious boater, but you gotta start somewhere, right?
In spite of a malfunctioning headset we got through it. It's been archived over there on the left if you want to witness a small boating accident with minimal fatalities and no Leon DeCaprio in sight. Plus I want to take this moment to seriously invite you all to the second broadcast this Sunday morning, however, and I want to plant a seed (heh! sexual innuendo!) in the fertile soil of each of you:
How do you feel about being interviewed?
You see, I'm not a big indie music guy nor am I setting this internet radio thing up so I can broadcast my own political or religious views. No, I'm talking. Just talking. As is VW and Helga. With luck I'll be talking to YOU, now or later. I want to know what makes you tick, what makes you write, what makes you read. I want to know what you are reading if you don't write, and what you write if you aren't reading. I want to hear about your most embarrassing moments, or about your finest. The rest of us want to know too, especially Helga*.
So. Comment me, or email me if you're shy or want to keep it a surprise visit at irrelephant dot blog at gmail and let me know you're game. Otherwise I'm gonna have to do like that teacher you always hated in school, the one who after seeing no hands raised would then start calling on people. The one who always called on you when you hadn't a CLUE as to what the question was, much less the answer because you'd been spending the whole class trying to get a glimpse up the skirt of the cute girl who sat one chair over from you and one behind, so that the angle was just enough to...well, you get the picture.
If you're REALLY not one for being on the radio then please be my guest and listen in. Simply click the link to the left there, the "Listen To My Show" thingie and that'll bring you to the site and the reminder link and all that good stuff. You can always call in, too! Dial IR-35347 anytime or (646) 378-1631 while I'm on the air; you can give me a hard time, and trust me, I deserve it.
Thank you, won't you?
* Helga is my go-fer, my spiritual, mental and physical advisor and my all-around radio flunkie. She keeps the tea hot and babysits the Interocitor, keeps the secret underground broadcast studio swept and dusted and makes sure that the secret broadcast restroom has a full roll of toilet paper, hung correctly. She's currently failing miserably in her attempts to teach me German (she speaks no English) and I'm making excellent progress at teaching her how to make a proper cup of tea. It no longer tastes like armpits, for one.