To blog or not to blog…that is the question! To be so selfish by not writing isn’t the answer.
Therefore what shall become the single thought that evolves into a whisper of inspiration and or influence and where shall it be read Russia, Indonesia, South Korea or Butte, Montana?
Being just a radio disc jockey seems so small when man and woman scientists and computer geeks have created for the human a stage that can be seen in every corner of the universe.
Elvis Presley would’ve been extremely jealous.
One of the best stories shared by legendary speaker talker Wolfman Jack is the heartfelt drama created when the King of Rock n Roll verbally spouted his discomfort for the Wildman of nighttime radio. Elvis loved being on stage which he paid heavily for; not only in sweat and gut wrenching unheard of chances taken but Tom Parker wanted his managerial chuck of the cha-ching.
Wolfman’s stage was radio…thanks to a 500,000 watt monster signal from Mexico and later WNBC NY the vibrations generated by studio passion tore up the souls of a passerby that happened to punch in.
To say radio will never be like that again is a pie in the face of Rush Limbaugh, Howard Stern, Ryan Seacrest and Big Willie McAlister who doesn’t know it but he’s going to graduate from a Broadcasting school in twenty six years and what he brings to the stage will be a continuation of what radio is, was and will forever be; just regular people doing regular things in a regular world on a planet that happens to have water and oxygen.
Ask any radio jock how they got here and no two stories are the same. Ask them why they stay and nearly everyone will makeup lies to save face.
Broadcasting isn’t just for television news reporters seeking secrets while solving murder mysteries and song intro invaders with fancy stories and bad jokes. Just like Benjamin Franklin’s printing press the internet provides an empty page blessed by the makers of the universe to be anything, everything, too much and sometimes too little…no matter how thick the challenge or easy it might seem…staying silent keeps the need to be or not to be wrapped tightly in a box called: it’s all about me.
When Chaz Bono was invited to walk on a surface oversaturated with uneducated judgment there was no way he knew that being while most have chosen not to be would invite peace to a life of potholes and un-located highways. Millions beyond this moment will be because writing with honesty was broadcast in places people escape to.
Recognized by the world as being one of the most expressive artists of our time, Peter Max chose one night to raise his vocals in my presence, “What you create doesn’t belong to you! You were born to share it!”
Wanna know why we’ve slid into a second recession inside a single ten year period; we’ve allowed the news media to do the talking for us. If more people spent ten to thirty minutes a day blogging what its like to be on welfare and medicare or working at a job where its become legal to abuse employees like Farrah Faucett in The Burning Bed; the weaknesses that keep our secrets in mental boxes would be released and there would be change.
A collection of foreigners made a choice to make their way across an open sea to find a land that would give birth to a voice that required nothing more then to be heard. It is this generation that has chosen to be seen but not heard. So…there is no need to be because the decision been made…it’s all about me.
Now you know my inspiration to rush into the recording studio and drop the tracks on my newest song. Slipped from the pen to which I write a wordy word picture was painted about our American way of life.
When I looked at you I began to see, reasons why I became me.
I chased you my entire life daring to change what I can’t face
I don’t dare to be different, didn’t want to be this way.
Not a fame game or web page surprise…look into my eyes!
(chorus)
Everywhere I go there are you with me.
Everywhere I play there you are with me.
Every breath I take I’m watching me…
Iphone smart phone totally digital,
Google Facebook nothing original
When I decide to look your way I try never to say your name.
Fact-uation means nothing I’m too infatuated with me.
600,000 YouTube views…didn’t want it to be this way.
Not a fame game or web page surprise…it’s all in the eyes.
(Chorus repeats)
I don’t care to make you happy…wouldn’t it be a waste?
It’s my eyes you’ve come to see…
(Chorus repeats)
Double click free pics…take all you want. It’s all in the eyes.
Written by the Poet in Me called M’e (May) because it truly isn’t about me so “May” the sun rise above your tears.
arroecollins@clearchannel.com
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