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- [00:00]
A
I'm pretty confident talking into a mic. Hey, I'm doing it right now. But home projects? I second guess everything. Is that noise normal? Is that water damage? Who do I even call? That's where thumbtack comes in. Just upload a photo or voice note and it uses AI powered search to match you with the right top rated local pro. So instead of guessing you get clarity and can hire with confidence for your next tone project. Try thumbtack. Hire the right pro today.
- [00:28]
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Hey there. Today's episode is hosted by the poet Dianelli Antigua. Enjoy and I'll be back on June 22nd.
- [00:44]
C
I'm Dianelli Antigua and this is the Slowdown. There was a time when love, or the possibility of it, came to you as a mixtape or burn cd. The songs were carefully chosen and painstakingly ordered. It wasn't limitless like today's playlists. You had maybe 70 or 80 minutes, which meant every song had to mean something. And when you got one, you'd sit there rewinding and replaying, trying to decode the hidden message the music played back out of all the mixed CDS I've received, it's impossible to forget the first. I was 18 in college, and my crush was in my public speaking class. When he learned that I'd spent most of my religious childhood not listening to secular music, he set out to immediately rectify the situation. He made me a mix cd. I played the CD for the first time in my car, with an adapter that connected my Walkman to the stereo's cassette deck. I listened to the songs and lived in their lyrics. In one song, I was the punk rock princess and he was my garage band king. In another, I was Cleopatra, Joan of Arc, or Aphrodite. I listened to the whole cd, believing the songs had revealed his feelings. I carried with me the little warmth of being seen, that maybe I was beautiful and that maybe beautiful things could happen to me. A month later, we had our first date at a Chili's restaurant. We kept ordering refills of our sodas long after the meal was done, just so we'd have an excuse to keep sitting across from each other. After that date, he made me another McCedee. I remember pressing play and not bracing myself. I wasn't searching for clues anymore. I was just listening. And maybe that's what changed. The first CD felt like a question. The second was an answer. Today's poem brings me back to that kind of listening, to the intimacy that can live inside shared sound and the quiet way music lets us reach each other across space and time. Boombox Ode Enjoy the Silence by K Iver A landline lets me dance with you. My one deck and your two deck are dialed to 98.5 FM without an echo. If we speak aloud, this miracle of fiber wire and radio wave harmony could split from our speakers. Soft synth, a bass line, a choir reverbing, a guitar riff that rises and falls Asks and answers I can't see your movement the bedroom you're quiet in somewhere bodies like ours are pulsing under the same pink neon to the same words like violence break Bodies like ours are touching and strangers watch only because they're gorgeous Let me pretend you're back in my bedroom before my mother found us you've risen from the pine floor and pulled me up you want me to stand for this? Let me pretend all I've ever wanted, all I've ever needed is here. Tell me that'll be us soon. The Slowdown is a production of American Public Media in partnership with the Poetry Foundation. To get a poem delivered to you daily, go to slowdownshow.org and sign up for our newsletter. And find us on Instagram @downdownshow and blue sky@downdownshow.org.
- [06:02]
B
Each day, listeners like you come together to take a pause. With the Slowdown, these small moments come together to form something powerful a community. After an entire year without federal funding, our community is what keeps the Slowdown here for you. If you value this moment that we share, please make a gift before our budget year ends. Donate now@slowdownshow.org or click the link in the show notes.