{"type":"rich","version":"1.0","provider_name":"Transistor","provider_url":"https://transistor.fm","author_name":"Midnight Radio","title":"How to Think About Dreams","html":"","width":"100%","height":180,"duration":3421,"description":"In the aesthetic dimension of vision and dream, the question in itself is an answer.\n—J.F. Martel\n\n\n1 \n\nAll streaks come to an end, at least if good sense prevails. For the first time in two years and 52 episodes, I missed my Midnight Radio filing deadline because I went to Montreal and came home with a Canadian Death Flu. When I woke at dusk after sleeping seventeen hours, my first impulse was to knock out a half-assed episode before midnight. But if writing isn’t fun for me, it’s even worse for the reader. Especially if it’s composed through the fog of a high fever.\nSeveral years ago, I made an obnoxious comment to someone I admired about how I’d meditated so-and-so many days in a row. He smiled politely. “Now I want you to skip a day.” And so I learned that habits should never become attachments, let alone fetishes. Non-practice is my practice, aimlessness is nirvana, and there are no straight lines in the universe. Only waves.\nLet it go.\nBut I’m pretty sure I know who got me sick. In Montreal, C. and I attended Mutek for the first time. My favorite thing in the world is to look at new things with C., and we saw—and heard—so much good art. It was a rare treat to sit in a concert hall, close my eyes, and listen to heavyweight sounds from artists like Fennesz and Voices From the Lake. We also got to properly meet October’s Special Midnight Radio Guest (but let’s live in the mystery). \nNow my head is soaked in new inspiration. And congestion. Because while sitting on a concrete floor in a dark room for an experimental film screening, a young woman covered in tiny tattoos blew into a handkerchief. I inched over, not wanting to inherit her air. But who carries a handkerchief in the 21st century? When I looked again to confirm, she stood up, coughed on my head, and snuffled off into the dark. She was like an assassin. As an American, I am certainly not blameless for the state of the world, but there must be more worthy targets. \nSo I apologize for leaving you bereft...","thumbnail_url":"https://img.transistorcdn.com/aK9xEzwFZuTvZiXTBGpDqOGBFpNHcV13AfGQrbwL0Hg/rs:fill:0:0:1/w:400/h:400/q:60/mb:500000/aHR0cHM6Ly9pbWct/dXBsb2FkLXByb2R1/Y3Rpb24udHJhbnNp/c3Rvci5mbS83Y2U1/MGU2YTFiNDM0Y2Jk/YTU5ZWFhYWZlNTZj/MmE3Zi5qcGVn.webp","thumbnail_width":300,"thumbnail_height":300}