Dear Someone, Some days, when I’m driving in the car listening to the radio, I think of you when that one song comes on. At first, I think “Oh, I love you.” Then I think, “Screw you for not loving me.” And finally, I think “But I still love you.” That won’t ever change. And this is my cheesy love letter.
i listened to the noise, white and distorted. it came in waves and i was surprised. why was this man talking about war when he had his own battles to fight? go home to your wife and kids, i thought. find them and hold them close to you. don’t talk to us strangers, we are apathetic and dying. dying all the time. go home,
Dawn
There was a crackle of static behind her. It was a reminder. Not of the people still out there, speaking and singing and reminding. But of the silence that was sinking in, extinguishing those voices one by one and leaving only the dull, empty crackle in its wake. It wasn’t true silence. It was worse.
I love listening to the radio. NOT. The radio has the top 10 from itunes and they replay every single second. Also, I thought of the movie Radio which is a great story. I really liked it, and I need to tell people about it. And oh, radios suck unless Ryan Secrest is talking because he’s a beast. Yeah.
It was an old radio, she noticed, but it would have to do. The brass knobs seemed to stick as she tried to turn them, and the antennae were slightly bent, “Nothing irreparable,” she murmured as she took note of this.
The static blured her mind, she started, and rose. Where was she? What on earth was that smell? She turned to the source of the noise and found the old stereo leaning against a cracked yellow wall. She started to rise, only to realize she’d been bound.
The old radio crackled to life as the children, entranced, settled in to listen.
It was something they’d never done before, only heard stories of, from their grandmothers and grandfathers. Fond stories of nights spent with a whole family, enjoying the company, waiting for the next part of some epic story to come on.
They’d never talk about the radio programs themselves, only the feeling.
He never quite knew when the dancing began. He didn’t know which song it was, or what time he played it, or whether or not anyone would be able to stop, or if it was even his fault to begin with. But people blamed him anyway. Marge Sanders blamed him for her broken hip when she couldn’t stop congaing down her stairwell. “An eighty year old woman shouldn’t be thrusting like that,” she’d said on the phone from her hospital bed. Then she requested a Frank Sinatra song. Susan Minnows blamed the station for her son’s spilling milk all over her new $3000 leather couch. “He was listening to the program, eating a bowl of Cocoa Puffs, and then out of nowhere my little pumpkin just started shaking like a mad man, jumping up and down on the couch and ruining each and every cushion.” She’d made it clear that he was to pay for the damages, but by her third time saying the word ‘liable,’ Eric had already hung up the phone to tend to the switchboard, which was lighting up in front of him like a small city on fire. All day the calls were the same. People wanted to know how to turn it off, when (or if) they would ever stop dancing, and what he intended to do about it if no one could. And, as luck would have it, no one could. The first death was reported a week after the initial show that had led to the dancing: exhaustion from excessive bossa nova. The hospitals were filled with rompers. Jazz and flamenco, can-can and cha-cha, fox trot and soft shoe, each and every bed full of jiggling, twitching legs and arms, hooked up to I.V. drips, because everyone was so dehydrated. Eric didn’t know what to do, and so he did what any reasonable man would have done in his shoes. He turned on the radio, tuned in to his own show, laced up his sneakers and danced, danced, danced.
yes
this thing really helps us
so much to share
and whatnot
this gives us inspiration and encourages us
music, thoughts, gameshows
it’s all very interesting to us and we love to listen
who doesn’t love to listen to this? really, it’s fun and I love my 91 X station
my own station!
I have a pandora one!
I love it so much
Tera
I like the radio, Music. Talk, listen, peace. It’s nice to listen to the music, let the radio decide what to listen to. It helps calm and take a sense of responsibility away from me, no matter how small. I like music, it’s an escape. An escape from everyday life. Yeah, the radio is good.
Luna Wilson
i remember when Disney radio was THE thing. AM radio. yeeaaah, what grade was i in? like 5th or something. today i hate the radio. never anything good…
Listening to the radio, Mark couldn’t help but feel a sense of panic as the news buzzed on: “Two men, both armed with weapons, are loose in any nearby towns of Clinton. When going out of your house, be sure to keep an eye on everything.”
Emily Woods
i listen to the radio in the car and at work and they seem to play all the same songs over and over again i love songs that say they were listening to the radio or some other refernce to it i like old radios that are huge and super vintage looking. singing loudly to the radio in the car is more fun when everyone in the car knows the song
andi
Where would we be without radio? Music, interesting talk, funny jokes, weird humor, weather warnings – Wow! I could turn off the T.V. and be perfectly happy without that as long as I had my radio! Especially if it was playing the ‘Big Hair’ 80’s bands! *ha!
Kevin
I hardly ever listen to the radio. As a result, I feel somewhat isolated. When people ask me if I have heard the latest hit song, I always respond with a “I don’t listen to the radio”, with a small smile and a shrug. It never bothers me, because honestly, I like enjoying those hit songs later on when the hype dies down and everyone forgets about them. It makes more sense to me that way.
In the radio lived a spider, grandma said, who would come out when it was playing them sweet sad melodies or the pitch of the baseball game. They named the spider and it became their friend. But those were those days she says with a sigh, as we turn back to the flickering tv.
Sonja Favaloro
I don’t listen to the radio as much as I used to. Now that I have Emerson, I’d rather dance around the house to silly kids’ music than hear about budget deficits or wars in faraway places. I’m not ready for her to be exposed to the negativity of the world. We’d rather sing the ABCs.
Playing in my mind, the silver and gold lights toil around each other and dance dance dance. All over the the red ground: our feet, sand between toes, prickly pine needles. Warm your fingers by the fire of the flying winged ones. Hold your arms over your head high, and move one leg around the other. The swaying material waves with the curves of every inch of our bodies, as if it is one unified product.
The radio was loud and grainy, or maybe it was just the song. It sent me into a panic. I could not breathe. I was swept up by the music and I could not let go.
the radio is what I turn on to escape reality. to keep quite. to listen to words that mean nothing to me. words that I dont have to pay attention to. just zone out and forget everything else. let the beat take me over. the mood become mine. thats the radio for me.
Abby McCulloch
Every time the radio would melt into static, none of us would venture to change the channel or adjust the anntenas. As the soon rose high, static became our summer soundtrack.
Emma
I hate the talk shows in the morning on the radio. They never play music, they just pretend that they have a huge base of wisdom and like the people listening give a fuck about their personal lives. If I wanted to listen to you talk, I would listen to a TALK radio.
Sarah
I turn the radio on I turn the radio up. But not for too long. And not often. I like to drive normally in silence. In my own thoughts. They are definitely more interesting than the mindless chat of the DJs or endless commercials or the traffic three hours away. My own music in my own mind.
Melanee
the radio is like a doorway… a portal to another world. with it, we can hear things we would have never heard before, check traffic, discover new music, and learn about very odd and interesting people. what would we do without it? maybe we would learn to be okay with out thoughts.
annie
Sitting in the back of the old 1992 Ford in my driveway I turn the radio to the local college station. This is where I spend my summer afternoons. There is a spare tire in the bed which fits my backside perfectly, I can lay in it and gaze up at the sun.
radio. tv. medium. radio script. orson welles. radio voice. hal, bruce mc—, masa, voice training. clarity. static. contrasts. songs. people complaining about mainstream radio. they have merit. wicb 91.7 ithaca.
Tyler
tricky, a gentle touch…
wipers, turning signal, high high beams, or radio….
Only one at a time, or otherwise risk catastrophic meltdown…
POS, I hope your well smooth asphalt parking lot in the sky…
We were driving on a dirt road, nothing but cornfields on each side of us.
Its amazing how the radio still worked.
We turned it on and this stupid pop song came on
then we decided to turn off and enjoyed the melodies of silence.
Funny how something like radio falls out of style. NPR is great and everything, but it just can’t compete with the fulling immersive world of movies and television. Still, Beethoven is awesome and people seem to like Justin Bieber. It’ll keep chugging along I guess. Good work Radio.
Jordan Black
that was s good movie. I keep relating these posts to movies. but this writing is good. anythings better then english class. its draining me of my creativity. i hate english class but i love writing. don’t mix the two up. please.
There’s nothing on today. Just the same 5 songs, over and over, and the same 12 commercials it seems. I get tired of all of it but it’s better than the silence. At least I know all the words now. But it’s just a reminder, every time, of how my life needs a breath of fresh air.
B
I love listening to the radio when I’m driving to Aurora. Some of my favorite memories are of me driving by myself on a late summer night and blasting music out my windows and into the darkness of the night. I love when songs that I know come on and I can scream into the chorus. it’s such a release.
Samantha Robbins
the radio buzzed on, droning words that didn’t make much sense. under an opium blanket, the mind really does filter out the unimportant things, focusing instead on the soft touch of a lover – an intimate moment of shared vulnerability, tucking his girl into a warm bed while her eyelids fluttered with doped dreams.
Devin
The radio makes me cry sometimes. Over played music blaring. Synthesized voices loved by many while the beautiful sound of outproduced music gets ignored. Makes me sad. But oh radio, never go. We’ve had somewhat of a good experience.
Ndekela Sakala
I remember once upon I time I was listening to the radio when a pretty cool song came on, I could never get to know the name of the song. Now, at every epic moment of my life, this song starts so sound in my head. Pretty awesome although I would pretty much like to know who the fuck wrote is it from.
AlvaroB
Blasting the radio, driving with our friends.
Kisses flying through the air in the backseat.
Hands on your face, your waist.
Radio.
Tongue against tongue.
Grabbing your wrists.
Radio.
Sweet words and silent murmurs.
Invented in Chelmsford, my hometown, by the legendary Marconi. It has become a a byword for breakfast, a true essential for truckers. Radio spaned War of the Worlds, and the leading narrator then went on to become the voice of Unicron, a world eating all conquering planet in transformers. Alpha in, Echo out, radio; the military love you. Long frequencies for broadcast, much lower for those who tune into your banal wisdom. A forum for free speech, a good way for Joe Bloggs to entertain or to incite at will. Sometimes, I have to giggle. At others, I despair for my fellow man. Input is certainly not always positive, because Christ, there are some bigoted idiots out there, rubbing shoulders with saints. Traffic reports to serial killers, hear all about it with the radio. No glossy pullouts. No scantily clad women. Simply an aural account of a subjective truth. Dr Hunter S Thompson could grow to love this particular medium.
Jake
i love you y do you do this i need you i cnt tell you what i need i can only do what you want i love you i dream about you and i cnt find a brtter man i need you be there for me danmit you are just not in a way that i can see i want you help me be be all i can be all i want to be all i need to be i need to be be with you forever i can i wont leave you i love you you i mean it do you jnow what i mean im not mean i just love you and want to be with you i aggre i have bad days dnt we all we can get over it together please i want to be with you i can handdel anything for you ican be over and under i want you
april
I love listening to the radio in my car in the mornings on my way to school. I listen to music and I listen to the talk programs, sometimes I even listen to the commercials. I have a 40 minute commute back and forth 3 times a week. It can get very lonely and I suppose the radio gives me something to do. I listen to it, and I sing along with it. I even talk back to it if there is a talk program on.
Dear Someone, Some days, when I’m driving in the car listening to the radio, I think of you when that one song comes on. At first, I think “Oh, I love you.” Then I think, “Screw you for not loving me.” And finally, I think “But I still love you.” That won’t ever change. And this is my cheesy love letter.
i listened to the noise, white and distorted. it came in waves and i was surprised. why was this man talking about war when he had his own battles to fight? go home to your wife and kids, i thought. find them and hold them close to you. don’t talk to us strangers, we are apathetic and dying. dying all the time. go home,
There was a crackle of static behind her. It was a reminder. Not of the people still out there, speaking and singing and reminding. But of the silence that was sinking in, extinguishing those voices one by one and leaving only the dull, empty crackle in its wake. It wasn’t true silence. It was worse.
I love listening to the radio. NOT. The radio has the top 10 from itunes and they replay every single second. Also, I thought of the movie Radio which is a great story. I really liked it, and I need to tell people about it. And oh, radios suck unless Ryan Secrest is talking because he’s a beast. Yeah.
It was an old radio, she noticed, but it would have to do. The brass knobs seemed to stick as she tried to turn them, and the antennae were slightly bent, “Nothing irreparable,” she murmured as she took note of this.
The static blured her mind, she started, and rose. Where was she? What on earth was that smell? She turned to the source of the noise and found the old stereo leaning against a cracked yellow wall. She started to rise, only to realize she’d been bound.
The old radio crackled to life as the children, entranced, settled in to listen.
It was something they’d never done before, only heard stories of, from their grandmothers and grandfathers. Fond stories of nights spent with a whole family, enjoying the company, waiting for the next part of some epic story to come on.
They’d never talk about the radio programs themselves, only the feeling.
He never quite knew when the dancing began. He didn’t know which song it was, or what time he played it, or whether or not anyone would be able to stop, or if it was even his fault to begin with. But people blamed him anyway. Marge Sanders blamed him for her broken hip when she couldn’t stop congaing down her stairwell. “An eighty year old woman shouldn’t be thrusting like that,” she’d said on the phone from her hospital bed. Then she requested a Frank Sinatra song. Susan Minnows blamed the station for her son’s spilling milk all over her new $3000 leather couch. “He was listening to the program, eating a bowl of Cocoa Puffs, and then out of nowhere my little pumpkin just started shaking like a mad man, jumping up and down on the couch and ruining each and every cushion.” She’d made it clear that he was to pay for the damages, but by her third time saying the word ‘liable,’ Eric had already hung up the phone to tend to the switchboard, which was lighting up in front of him like a small city on fire. All day the calls were the same. People wanted to know how to turn it off, when (or if) they would ever stop dancing, and what he intended to do about it if no one could. And, as luck would have it, no one could. The first death was reported a week after the initial show that had led to the dancing: exhaustion from excessive bossa nova. The hospitals were filled with rompers. Jazz and flamenco, can-can and cha-cha, fox trot and soft shoe, each and every bed full of jiggling, twitching legs and arms, hooked up to I.V. drips, because everyone was so dehydrated. Eric didn’t know what to do, and so he did what any reasonable man would have done in his shoes. He turned on the radio, tuned in to his own show, laced up his sneakers and danced, danced, danced.
yes
this thing really helps us
so much to share
and whatnot
this gives us inspiration and encourages us
music, thoughts, gameshows
it’s all very interesting to us and we love to listen
who doesn’t love to listen to this? really, it’s fun and I love my 91 X station
my own station!
I have a pandora one!
I love it so much
I like the radio, Music. Talk, listen, peace. It’s nice to listen to the music, let the radio decide what to listen to. It helps calm and take a sense of responsibility away from me, no matter how small. I like music, it’s an escape. An escape from everyday life. Yeah, the radio is good.
i remember when Disney radio was THE thing. AM radio. yeeaaah, what grade was i in? like 5th or something. today i hate the radio. never anything good…
Listening to the radio, Mark couldn’t help but feel a sense of panic as the news buzzed on: “Two men, both armed with weapons, are loose in any nearby towns of Clinton. When going out of your house, be sure to keep an eye on everything.”
i listen to the radio in the car and at work and they seem to play all the same songs over and over again i love songs that say they were listening to the radio or some other refernce to it i like old radios that are huge and super vintage looking. singing loudly to the radio in the car is more fun when everyone in the car knows the song
Where would we be without radio? Music, interesting talk, funny jokes, weird humor, weather warnings – Wow! I could turn off the T.V. and be perfectly happy without that as long as I had my radio! Especially if it was playing the ‘Big Hair’ 80’s bands! *ha!
I hardly ever listen to the radio. As a result, I feel somewhat isolated. When people ask me if I have heard the latest hit song, I always respond with a “I don’t listen to the radio”, with a small smile and a shrug. It never bothers me, because honestly, I like enjoying those hit songs later on when the hype dies down and everyone forgets about them. It makes more sense to me that way.
In the radio lived a spider, grandma said, who would come out when it was playing them sweet sad melodies or the pitch of the baseball game. They named the spider and it became their friend. But those were those days she says with a sigh, as we turn back to the flickering tv.
I don’t listen to the radio as much as I used to. Now that I have Emerson, I’d rather dance around the house to silly kids’ music than hear about budget deficits or wars in faraway places. I’m not ready for her to be exposed to the negativity of the world. We’d rather sing the ABCs.
Playing in my mind, the silver and gold lights toil around each other and dance dance dance. All over the the red ground: our feet, sand between toes, prickly pine needles. Warm your fingers by the fire of the flying winged ones. Hold your arms over your head high, and move one leg around the other. The swaying material waves with the curves of every inch of our bodies, as if it is one unified product.
The radio was loud and grainy, or maybe it was just the song. It sent me into a panic. I could not breathe. I was swept up by the music and I could not let go.
the radio is what I turn on to escape reality. to keep quite. to listen to words that mean nothing to me. words that I dont have to pay attention to. just zone out and forget everything else. let the beat take me over. the mood become mine. thats the radio for me.
Every time the radio would melt into static, none of us would venture to change the channel or adjust the anntenas. As the soon rose high, static became our summer soundtrack.
I hate the talk shows in the morning on the radio. They never play music, they just pretend that they have a huge base of wisdom and like the people listening give a fuck about their personal lives. If I wanted to listen to you talk, I would listen to a TALK radio.
I turn the radio on I turn the radio up. But not for too long. And not often. I like to drive normally in silence. In my own thoughts. They are definitely more interesting than the mindless chat of the DJs or endless commercials or the traffic three hours away. My own music in my own mind.
the radio is like a doorway… a portal to another world. with it, we can hear things we would have never heard before, check traffic, discover new music, and learn about very odd and interesting people. what would we do without it? maybe we would learn to be okay with out thoughts.
Sitting in the back of the old 1992 Ford in my driveway I turn the radio to the local college station. This is where I spend my summer afternoons. There is a spare tire in the bed which fits my backside perfectly, I can lay in it and gaze up at the sun.
radio. tv. medium. radio script. orson welles. radio voice. hal, bruce mc—, masa, voice training. clarity. static. contrasts. songs. people complaining about mainstream radio. they have merit. wicb 91.7 ithaca.
tricky, a gentle touch…
wipers, turning signal, high high beams, or radio….
Only one at a time, or otherwise risk catastrophic meltdown…
POS, I hope your well smooth asphalt parking lot in the sky…
“sniff, Tear, sniff”
We were driving on a dirt road, nothing but cornfields on each side of us.
Its amazing how the radio still worked.
We turned it on and this stupid pop song came on
then we decided to turn off and enjoyed the melodies of silence.
Funny how something like radio falls out of style. NPR is great and everything, but it just can’t compete with the fulling immersive world of movies and television. Still, Beethoven is awesome and people seem to like Justin Bieber. It’ll keep chugging along I guess. Good work Radio.
that was s good movie. I keep relating these posts to movies. but this writing is good. anythings better then english class. its draining me of my creativity. i hate english class but i love writing. don’t mix the two up. please.
There’s nothing on today. Just the same 5 songs, over and over, and the same 12 commercials it seems. I get tired of all of it but it’s better than the silence. At least I know all the words now. But it’s just a reminder, every time, of how my life needs a breath of fresh air.
I love listening to the radio when I’m driving to Aurora. Some of my favorite memories are of me driving by myself on a late summer night and blasting music out my windows and into the darkness of the night. I love when songs that I know come on and I can scream into the chorus. it’s such a release.
the radio buzzed on, droning words that didn’t make much sense. under an opium blanket, the mind really does filter out the unimportant things, focusing instead on the soft touch of a lover – an intimate moment of shared vulnerability, tucking his girl into a warm bed while her eyelids fluttered with doped dreams.
The radio makes me cry sometimes. Over played music blaring. Synthesized voices loved by many while the beautiful sound of outproduced music gets ignored. Makes me sad. But oh radio, never go. We’ve had somewhat of a good experience.
I remember once upon I time I was listening to the radio when a pretty cool song came on, I could never get to know the name of the song. Now, at every epic moment of my life, this song starts so sound in my head. Pretty awesome although I would pretty much like to know who the fuck wrote is it from.
Blasting the radio, driving with our friends.
Kisses flying through the air in the backseat.
Hands on your face, your waist.
Radio.
Tongue against tongue.
Grabbing your wrists.
Radio.
Sweet words and silent murmurs.
Invented in Chelmsford, my hometown, by the legendary Marconi. It has become a a byword for breakfast, a true essential for truckers. Radio spaned War of the Worlds, and the leading narrator then went on to become the voice of Unicron, a world eating all conquering planet in transformers. Alpha in, Echo out, radio; the military love you. Long frequencies for broadcast, much lower for those who tune into your banal wisdom. A forum for free speech, a good way for Joe Bloggs to entertain or to incite at will. Sometimes, I have to giggle. At others, I despair for my fellow man. Input is certainly not always positive, because Christ, there are some bigoted idiots out there, rubbing shoulders with saints. Traffic reports to serial killers, hear all about it with the radio. No glossy pullouts. No scantily clad women. Simply an aural account of a subjective truth. Dr Hunter S Thompson could grow to love this particular medium.
i love you y do you do this i need you i cnt tell you what i need i can only do what you want i love you i dream about you and i cnt find a brtter man i need you be there for me danmit you are just not in a way that i can see i want you help me be be all i can be all i want to be all i need to be i need to be be with you forever i can i wont leave you i love you you i mean it do you jnow what i mean im not mean i just love you and want to be with you i aggre i have bad days dnt we all we can get over it together please i want to be with you i can handdel anything for you ican be over and under i want you
I love listening to the radio in my car in the mornings on my way to school. I listen to music and I listen to the talk programs, sometimes I even listen to the commercials. I have a 40 minute commute back and forth 3 times a week. It can get very lonely and I suppose the radio gives me something to do. I listen to it, and I sing along with it. I even talk back to it if there is a talk program on.
ew.