a boardwalk arcade at night, empty. the image is slightly distorted by VHS fuzz. [002] THE NEW DOOR. A CALLER DREAMS A NEW DOOR. THE HOST DOES HER LAUNDRY.
listen anywhere. transcript under the cut:
[static, radio tuning]
[Traveling Sales Rep: Don’t touch that dial! We’ll be right back, after these short messages.] [static, radio tuning]
[click]
Hello and welcome to Thin Places Radio. I'm your host, and it is the middle of the night. But don't worry. You're not alone.
[Thin Places theme intro]
I’m coming to you live from my studio, which is what i like to call this 24-hour laundromat with broken orange plastic chairs, rattly old AC, and, for some godforsaken reason, an arcade console, that’s not turning on. I’ve always liked laundromats - the neon stuttering in the window, clean-laundry smell, the white-noise of the washer-dryers, the almost-too-hot-stuffy air. It’s comforting. Like… a womb. Or a coffin.
What is Thin Places Radio? Well, you can call in about anything strange that you've got going on in your life. Do you hear your footsteps lag when you’re walking down that series of interconnected subterranean tunnels? Is there a ghost in your washing machine? Or, is there a padlock in your friends’ attic you can’t - or shouldn’t - open?
Call in, get it off your chest. Lines are open.
[click] [voicemail:]
“I'm calling because I just woke up after a dream where the house that I'm living in - the rooms were changing and rearranging themselves? Not the contents, but where they were in the house. Like I'd walk into where the kitchen used to be and it was a different room? Not necessarily. A room I'd seen before? And I thought it was just a dream, but when I woke up, I walked out of my bedroom and was making my way towards the bathroom. And I noticed a door I hadn't seen before. And I was wondering. Should I open that?”
[click]
Hi, caller - I’m so glad you left me a message. You never know when you might look at something you’ve seen for years, or maybe even your whole life, and realize that, suddenly, nothing is the way that you thought it was. The unheimlich. Something that should be familiar - your house - is unfamiliar. Something that should be unfamiliar - a new door - is actually something you recognize.
I’m usually okay with answers, but I don’t think I can answer this one for you. Because you can’t unring a bell. You can’t undream a dream. And you can’t unopen a door - even if you never go through it after all.
There are a thousand possible futures. There are a thousand possible yous in those thousand possible futures. But, here’s the thing - all of those yous are still you. All of those yous are still beloved, no matter what happens.
Should you open the door? I don’t know. Can you live with the unanswered question if you don’t?
[click] [searching music]
Right now, as you’re listening to this, an act of kindness is taking place. Acts of brutality, too, and desperation, and hopelessness, and hopefulness. But also kindness - the kind that comes for free, between strangers, with no benefit to be gained.
Somewhere, right now, a twenty-two year old is crying on the steps outside their apartment. They just moved to this city, and they’ve locked themselves out, but that isn’t why they’re crying. Their reasons are too big to articulate, and also too easy. A sixty-seven year old woman is walking past them. She understands feeling alone, a stranger to yourself and to everybody else. The twenty-two year old thinks it’s a kindness to be ignored, but it’s not. It’s just politeness. The woman fishes a packet of Kleenex out of her purse. “I won’t tell you to cheer up,” she says. The twenty-two year old blows their nose. “Cry as long as you’d like. But after you’ve finished, pick yourself back up. You are very strong, even though you wish you didn’t have to be.” And she nods. It’s what she would have wanted to hear. And, somehow, it’s what they needed to hear, too.
[click]
Something weird, listeners: megafauna! Why do you think moose are so big? It’s ‘cause of dinosaurs. Did you know that ancient rats were ten times the size of modern rats? I know this because I think I might be seeing the last remaining one sniffing its way along the shelves on the wall of this laundromat.
[click]
Alright, looks like the spin cycle’s done. And - huh. The ancient video game looks like it’s turned itself back on. It’s got the title flashing there now - POLYBIUS? Maybe I’ll play a few rounds while I'm waiting. Maybe I won't. Either way, the future’s wide open.
[click]
Thank you for listening, callers, and thank you for calling, listeners. I hope you feel a little bit lighter. I know I do. As always, our number is 717.382.8093. That's 717.382.8093. Until next time. I'll be here.
[click]
[static] [Traveling Sales Rep: visit us at the - diner just off -] [Various Garbled Voices: ]
Thin Places Radio is a podcast written by Kristen O’Neal and produced by Kaitlin Bruder. The voice of your host is Kristen O’Neal. Tonight’s voicemail was left for us by Emily Carlson. Editing and sound design are by Kaitlin Bruder, and the music tracks you heard in tonight’s episode are: the Thin Places theme, by Miles Morkri, and Umeed by RANA.
If you have a story to tell or a question to ask, give us a call at (717) 382-8093. The lines are always open.
[Thin Places Theme outro]
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