My life has gotten pretty strange lately. I remember way back years ago, when I talked Michael Alton Gottlieb into doing a radio show with me, mostly for a chance to rant and rave about the Bush-it of the day, without the constraints of font. We chatted with our partners in blogging, and a few other blogger-type guests. It was fun. Amazing even. For me? Addictive. Living in a sea of Blue in Pinckney Michigan does not make for intelligent conversation often. I never really thought it would go past that - you know, one of my favorite hours of the week, talking to wildly smart people about things no one else would get; things we wanted everyone else to get.
For a while, it became my bastion of sanity as my husband suffered and died with cancer - the only point of normalcy in an increasingly hard world. I suppose my fragile sanity at losing my partner of 27 years while dealing with and protecting my son from his increasing instability as it ate into his brain made me a fright to be around. That? And everyone who gives their heart and soul to politics burns out and needs reprieve at some point.
So, when my dear partner-in-subversion and I parted ways, I wasn't sure I could pull it off alone. Then one day? My friend Elian suggested I write Noam Chomsky. So, I did, on a hard night, listening to my husband Mike gasp on the couch. Within seconds, he replied and we ended up emailing back and forth for hours that night, about cancer and loss, and surviving... he lost his wife to cancer too.
Getting him was a fluke, that paved the way via "cred" to everything that happened since. Noam is a regular now. But he is the reason my whole list happened. That, and I suppose he understood the burden one bears when living through hell.
My line up looks like this: Rocky tomorrow, Michael Parenti the following week, and Jill Stein's campaign manager the next. (Ok, I'm not cool enough for her to come - but fuck that - Micheal Parenti? WOW. He also answered within hours)
I mean really - I snuck (I know it isn't a word but I like it) across the street to have a beer with my friend and play some yahtzee, burned out from laundry and housework and the ever-taxi duties of a Mom of a 13 year old in sports... and the phone rang.
It was Rocky Anderson, who wanted to confirm a date to be on my show. I barely lifted an eyebrow, got all business and did it. We went back to playing, then I lost it, laughing like an idiot. "Had you told me a year ago, I would just 'chat' with the likes of Chomsky, Ward Churchlll twice, Bill Ayers, Frances Fox Piven, Cindy Sheehan, Roseanne Barr, Norm Finkelstein or any of the others? I would have told you, you were batshit crazy." Linda laughed and kicked my ass at Yahtzee. I pictured my husband, wherever he is just grinning, shaking his head and saying "Only you..." Its crazy, I tell you. I'm no one.
I am NOT writing this to brag. I guess I am purging the fact that its fucking insane that this broke, over weight, under educated, no one from no where is getting away with it. Hell, I was never the articulate one, gottsy was far better than me. I miss having a brilliant foil, him as a partner. I always thought it was him I was a vehicle to stardom for. Seriously. He is better, writing and speaking. Honest. I just have this crazy dumb luck. And, strangely? I've "got" this!
That's how it feels. Like I am getting away with something. Like any day, they will all figure out how ordinary, unworthy, blase, pedestrian I am and I will be ridiculed as the fraud I am.
The other part of me? Doesn't care if they are famous - I lack the gaga gene. To me? They are just sitting at my table, my equal, and having a conversation with me.
Now, I doubt very much Obama or Bush would come on. But still? For a no one, some of the players are playing with me. My mind boggles. My flabber is fully gasted. I'm getting a free shopping spree in the minds of the best and brightest of our generation.
So, anyway, my goal is to interview everyone who is running for President (except the Mitt) and ask tough questions. And to talk to as many Occupy people who will give me the time. And to talk to anyone who is smarter than me, which is nearly everyone....
But tomorrow, I speak to Rocky:
http://www.wildwildleft.com/...
Wow.
I have Chavez in the works too, and that would be a dream come true.
Cross your fingers for me, friends. Had a bad year last year, need a good one this year.
Now. If only I could make a living doing this.... LOL
See you tomorrow!