This blog really should be called ‘My Own Private Radio 2.0,’ because it’s my second run at the ideas contained herein.
Version 1.0 got to something over a hundred posts in 2009, but was then deleted for reasons that won’t be shared here.
The original name was ‘Pattern Recognition,’ in honor of William Gibson’s book and the idea of connecting disparate things in the news, science, music and the rest. But a lot of people were already using PR as a title, and besides, the longer I wrote, the less ‘Pattern Recognition’ seemed to fit.
I also liked ‘Radio Nowhere,’ after the Springsteen song, but it too was in use in other places.
Why radio? Mostly because of northern Pennsylvania. If you have ever driven the area around Scranton, you know that f.m. radio is hard to hold onto.
Before I had satellite radio, and when I had cause to travel the area a couple of times a year, I would spend the last hour or two of the marathon across the state trying to find something to listen to, some point of contact.
One time, in the middle of the day, I was way up at the top of the a.m. dial when this surge of electric blues from the 1940s came rolling out, followed by an announcer who sounded nothing like your average voice.
I kept the station tuned in for maybe 10 minutes. I don’t remember what else he played, but I knew I was hearing the sound of someone who had to get something out of his system, even if no one else cared.
It was his private radio. This is mine.
The blog exists mostly for me to sort through the large amount of media I use, and these notes are me talking to myself about that media.
To put it another way: welcome guest, but please don’t be offended if I continue to go about my business.
As of this writing, I’m
56 years old, ( 57! 58! 59! 60!) living in upstate New York. I’m a journalist by trade and disposition.
Why is my name not listed here? (It was, briefly.) I’m a huge believer in standing behind what you write and say, and sign all my various contributions to web boards and blogs and such.
This feels different to me; it’s essentially private writing. Even though it’s posted in a public place, the odds of you finding it by accident are slim and none. And somehow, for reasons I can’t quite get straight, it feels less intimate to me when I stick my name on it.
So for the moment my name is off, though it’s really no secret – it’s just quiet.