We used to drop the needle, sit back, and let a record take us somewhere. Now we skip, scroll, and forget. This isn’t just nostalgia — it’s a call to remember what music used to mean. And why we need to play the whole damn record.
Cronauer’s breath fogs in the cold air as he weaves through ghost towns, surviving on instinct and static. But near Richland Center, he hears something unmistakable—a clipped broadcast about the Viroqua repeater going silent. It’s not just the words that catch him. It’s the style. Norm’s style. He’s close now. And if the roads still follow the old maps, Viroqua waits just over the ridge.
TV lost its grip on me the moment I started building something real. What began as a random idea over dinner turned into a working, browser-based music player built specifically for radio and set lovers. It’s raw, fast, focused — and free.
Full albums. No filler. This week we dive headfirst into Even In Arcadia, Darkest Days, and In Absentia — a sonic therapy session disguised as a radio show.
Sleep Token isn’t just a band — it’s a sonic cult. Blending the emotional rawness of Porcupine Tree and Stabbing Westward with a ritualistic sense of devotion, Sleep Token’s music feels like a religious experience… even if you’re not religious.
Cronauer strung a short antenna wire into a tree, hands steady despite the chill. The rig crackled softly—static, static, then a voice.
“…Truax… holding south end of Park Street…”
His pulse jumped. That was Madison. That was someone alive.
He leaned in, trying to pull more from the ether, but the signal vanished like smoke.
Still, it was enough. He was heading the right direction. Tomorrow, Viroqua.
Somehow, my blog posts from Rolling with Scissors are showing up on both the official page and my personal one. I didn’t ask for it — but if it gets in your face, maybe that’s where it needs to be.
Most people can pack a bag and relocate without a second thought. But when you’re disabled, moving isn’t just a hassle — it’s a battle with housing waitlists, inaccessible transit, broken systems, and a world that wasn’t built for your body.
Some people call it offensive. I call it ownership. “Gimp” isn’t a slur when I use it—it’s a badge of honor, inked on my arm before Facebook even existed. If that offends you? Good. It means you’re paying attention.
Why do people trust computers to fly planes but not drive cars? For those of us in wheelchairs, self-driving vehicles could be the key to independence — if the world would just catch up.