Bro Radio

I’m in the basement. The music is playing; the beer is brewing and my alarm clock finally turns itself off. Time to crack open a Brewington Beer.

There was no totem pole. We were both at the bottom but played important roles. Thinking back to how it all started, I wasn’t easy to work with. I felt bad for bro.

Pow Wow, 2016

Don’t judge. I knew Ottis O’Toole a bit. The twenty-seven-year-old with boyish charm and charisma knew how to act on the airwaves, at least at first.

art-deco-fonts

The Rude Native, Brewington’s pub, not like a coat factory chain, but a converted warehouse in the middle of nowhere. Near Weber’s Warehouse, farmland and dirt. A high-class joint. The bar reeking of urine, yesterday’s farts, and rotten asparagus.

His rural fanbase wanted the performance of a lifetime. Ottis, a familiar face who was dabbling in drugs, faking suicides for attention, chasing underage girls, not paying his taxes, running karaoke shows, singing, and remembering all the past auditions.  

He was supposed to play this guy that was a loser boyfriend, rock-and-roll guy who is scum, and the impetus for new Aztec settlements who gets into radio broadcasting. Everybody in Brewington knew that. When it was pitched to him, they said it would be two or three episodes only, then he would be done. He was very intentional about staying up the whole night before and really just come in the studio and be a wreck. But Ottis just wanted to be helpful. Mike Rogers was auditioning for Buck Rogers, a real Mr. Rogers, doing a bang-up job and everything, but buddy wondered what was wrong with Ottis, because he looked terrible. Ottis would ramble on about his method-acting on air and how he was a legit super Mario. Mike thought he was more of a meth-head.


But that was then. Ottis gave up acting like Mario Juan Valez. A flick of the switch. He became someone else, branded the name. I never made it through the first month, though. A fearless Superman warrior, Daniel Blowden stared me straight in the face, wearing beads, tribal headgear, feather-work bracelets, and a wampum belt. With a mask and war bonnet tucked in his duffel bag, Daniel had a pretty nice studio set-up in his lush, green apartment. The music was good. He oozed a bit too much confidence, thought he could do it alone. He told me to get the fuck out of his apartment.

Daniel’s studio, 2015

The plague was tough. Ottis took fate into his own hands. I’m not like Ottis playing Daniel, a native bro from the gutter. But I remember what it felt like to live without hope in the wrong place at the wrong time. I wanted to reach out. WRICH wanted to help. But I had to end it.

The Daniel Blowden Show #1
The Daniel Blowden Show #2
The Daniel Blowden Show #3
The Daniel Blowden Show #4
The Daniel Blowden Show #5
The Daniel Blowden Show #6
The Daniel Blowden Show #7
The Daniel Blowden Show #8
The Daniel Blowden Show #9
The Daniel Blowden Show #10
The Daniel Blowden Show #11 (Special Breakdown)
The Daniel Blowden Show #12
The Daniel Blowden Show #13

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s