Swamped with guilt for not having donated to my tied-for-first favorite music station, I called them this morning - the music was heavenly - oh, it was an all-Mozart Day, Jan 27 was his birthday - and got one Daniel on the phone.
This was a day when I had lots of work to do. Compass plus deadlines for poetry and prose. Look! I'm still awake at 4 in the a.m. due to the 'caffeine effect.'
I did begin the "Editor's Corner" of the Compass, which is usually tough to write. I began with the suicide death of Christopher Tully.
Look at this man! Can you believe he jumped into the Schuylkill River and drowned?
So I'm on the phone with Daniel.
It's like being in an echo chamber and you can't get out.
A prison.
Everything I say, he repeats and spells it
R as in river
U as in umbrella
T as in tumbler
H as in hat
Stop it Daniel! I say nicely.
I can't, he says, or I'll lose my job.
Go fuck yourself, I wanted to say.
But didn't.
I also wanted to hang up on him.
But didn't.
And gave them the minimum donation I ever give.
He wanted a statement from me.
Why are you donating to WRTI, he asked.
Because it's my favorite station [tied with WXPN]. I listen to it in the daytime and in the night.
When he sent me a confirmation email, R as in Ruth, U as in umbilical cord, my statement was in the email.
It made it all worthwhile.
Thanks, Ruth. Love BP with the GM.
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