www.goodluckgabe.life
During those hours when the landscape forms a halo around Life, and dream is simply a matter of dreaming oneself, I created, O my love, in the silence of my disquiet, this strange podcast like a series of arches opening up at the end of some abandoned venue.
In order to record this, I plucked the souls from all the flowers, and out of the ephemeral moments of all the songs of all of the birds I wove eternity and stagnation. Sitting at the window of my life and forgetting that I was...
www.goodluckgabe.life
During those hours when the landscape forms a halo around Life, and dream is simply a matter of dreaming oneself, I created, O my love, in the silence of my disquiet, this strange podcast like a series of arches opening up at the end of some abandoned venue.
In order to record this, I plucked the souls from all the flowers, and out of the ephemeral moments of all the songs of all of the birds I wove eternity and stagnation. Sitting at the window of my life and forgetting that I was alive, that I existed, I began to weave shrouds in which to shroud my tedium, chaste linen cloths for the altars of my silence.
And I am offering you this podcast because I know it to be both beautiful and useless. It teaches nothing, preaches nothing, arouses no emotion. It is a stream that runs into an abyss of ashes that the wind scatters and which neither fertilize nor harm – I put my whole soul into its making, but I wasn’t thinking of that at the time, only of my own sad self and of you, who are no one.
And because this podcast is absurd, I love it; because it is useless I want to give it to you, and because there is no point in wanting to give it to you, I give it anyway…
Pray for me when you listen to it, bless me by loving it and forget it as I forget those planes and buildings and women, mere dreams I never knew how to dream.
Silent towers of my desires, may this podcast be the transforming moonlight in the night of the Ancient Mystery!
River of Painful Imperfection, may this podcast be the boat set adrift on your waters and washed down to an undream-of sea.
Landscape of Alienation and Abandonment, may this podcast be as much yours as your Hour, and transcend you as it does the fateful Purple Hour.
Please don’t think I podcast in order to publish, or simply for the sake of podcasting or making art. I podcast as an end in itself, the ultimate refinement, the temperamentally illogical refinement, of my cultivation of states-of-soul.
Conflicted, you was.
Remember, I do.
Gay, I am.
Your host, Geraldo Rivera, I am.
Tuned into episode 62 of Geraldo's Edge Game, you are.
I jacked off to holocaust footage.
I was young, maybe 8 so still shooting blanks but loved playing around to get that good feeling in my cock. One evening I could see my neighbors watching some spicy film out of my room window. The film was black and white and there were many naked people walking around and then they were in a big pile. Because of this, I thought it was older porn. So I cranked out a nice blank on the rooftop of my house. Those film images were recycled frequently during my younger jack sessions. Naked people in a big pile, shit was hot. Years later in my high school history class we watched a documentary. Thirty minutes in, I began recognizing some footage from my spank bank. Unfortunately the documentary covered the holocaust and the “hot” naked people were being lined up, stripped naked and killed, then dumped into a mass grave pile. And I’ve been getting off to this for years. I learned a lesson that day…don’t jack it to black and white films kids.
