You're listening to

In commercial breaks for radio and television, there's occasionally something called a station ident. Somewhere between the endless reminders to buy Frosted Flakes lest the lack of them cause your pubes to burst into flames, a friendly reminder will worm its way into your ear, declaring, "You're listening to WEEL--putting the 'roll' back in 'rock n' roll.'"¹

I like the station ident. It's simple, it's clear, and it's the one bit of a broadcast that doesn't have any agenda except being kind enough to remind you where you are after you've put your brain on screensaver. So consider this my station ident. If you continue to read this blog, you will be subjected to my opinions, my ideas, my dreams, and occasionally a recipe.² This blog will be the third globe of my brain, the one most suitable for public consumption. But this entry will be simple. It will be clear. It will be the one bit of broadcast that has no agenda except telling you that you are here.

I'm Paul. I live in Brooklyn. I write a lot. All my favorite TV shows are canceled, and there's no raw flavor in nature that trumps pineapple. I have a few bad habits, and when I indulge in all of them on weekends onion rings are the only cure. One question, no real answer: what the hell am I doing here?

-PK


¹ Actual station ident I heard once.
² Just kidding. You fuckers will never get my recipes.