To the Artist's Page                To our home page

To Dave Dreher's previous piece     To Dave Dreher's next piece

The Radio

The radio has treated me fine this morning. There is nothing quite like emerging slowly from a session of hard Z's. Even just now, I allowed my head to fall on my writing paper. I am propped up on my elbows in bed, so I just pushed them out. The paper felt soft against my face. It feels good to flop like that. It has occurred to me on this morning, when there is good jazz music flowing out of the FM speakers with the ease of a big yellow car cruising on fat white-walled tires through Harlem on a sunny Sunday afternoon, drums, brass, and piano just getting it done, it has occurred to me that if one allows oneself the leisure at just this time, then one can build a better fight, a less worrisome perspective, a better kindness. It surely would alleviate life-shortening stress. Otherwise, the jitter of recent nightmares, the bleariness of eye, the quick of temper, all indications of having left one's best devices on the pillow, will lead to embarrassment, alienation, awkwardness, random spite, a general sensation of dread, and all that follows: rage, sorrow, resignation. Let me tell you, I am no fool and the radio is doing just fine by me. My friend, you stick out like a sore thumb.