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WXXT
When Radio was Dangerous
Created on 2005-03-17 16:52:18 (#6481868), last updated 2009-10-24
72 comments received, 28 comments posted
Basic Account [Gift]
67 Journal Entries, 0 Tags, 0 Memories, 0 Virtual Gifts, 3 Userpics
Basic Info| Name: | benstockton |
|---|---|
| Location: | Northampton, Massachusetts, United States |
BioWXXT Radio. Do you hear the rain? Do you hear the rain?
"I was not content to believe in a personal devil and serve him, in the ordinary sense of the word. I wanted to get hold of him personally and become his chief of staff." -AC
Over 100 years later, well beyond our bodies' meager lives, we broadcast the Word from the woods of Leeds.
I arrive at the station at 4 a.m. More often than not Rexroth Slaughton is there already, sorting through carts and scribbing the day's monologs on a tablet whilst pulling the worms from his waistcoat. I find Dither weeping disconsolately at the microphone. Ronstadt's limp body hangs by the neck from a thick branch that has plunged through our modest roof, his neck impossibly folded, his tongue a black bug peeking from a pink letter slot, a coffee mug that says "I Don't Like Mondays" gripped in his curved rigor mortis finger. "Mornin' Old Ben," he intones, a thick string of black spittle swaying hypnotically until it finally lights acrost his miserable musty shirt.
I light a candle and flip a switch. "WXXT," I say into the microphone. "This is Benjamin Scratch Stockton signing on. There is no hint of sun this morning, and there is still time to hunt. Soon light will creep amongst the trees that line our studios, obscuring, for but a few hours, the plagues and the blights and the ants and the maggots. To-day the FCC will be lost on the way to our door, a cat will scratch the eye of a virgin, a dead man will touch the cheek of a newborn and turn it black. But first, here is Jebediah Blackstye with the traffic report."
"I was not content to believe in a personal devil and serve him, in the ordinary sense of the word. I wanted to get hold of him personally and become his chief of staff." -AC
Over 100 years later, well beyond our bodies' meager lives, we broadcast the Word from the woods of Leeds.
I arrive at the station at 4 a.m. More often than not Rexroth Slaughton is there already, sorting through carts and scribbing the day's monologs on a tablet whilst pulling the worms from his waistcoat. I find Dither weeping disconsolately at the microphone. Ronstadt's limp body hangs by the neck from a thick branch that has plunged through our modest roof, his neck impossibly folded, his tongue a black bug peeking from a pink letter slot, a coffee mug that says "I Don't Like Mondays" gripped in his curved rigor mortis finger. "Mornin' Old Ben," he intones, a thick string of black spittle swaying hypnotically until it finally lights acrost his miserable musty shirt.
I light a candle and flip a switch. "WXXT," I say into the microphone. "This is Benjamin Scratch Stockton signing on. There is no hint of sun this morning, and there is still time to hunt. Soon light will creep amongst the trees that line our studios, obscuring, for but a few hours, the plagues and the blights and the ants and the maggots. To-day the FCC will be lost on the way to our door, a cat will scratch the eye of a virgin, a dead man will touch the cheek of a newborn and turn it black. But first, here is Jebediah Blackstye with the traffic report."
ConnectInterests (32):
ale, antique radios, antique tallboys, bird skeletons, chiggers, cicadas, corsets, daguerreotypes, dunhills, fcc, fire, fried chicken, ghosts, ham, handkerchiefs, hangings, harlots, jews, murder, peculiarly shaped stains, radio, rogering, tickling, undead, violence, wailing, waistcoats, weeping, whisky, wooden witches, worms, zooey deschanel
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