Love this podcast?

Support this show through the ACAST supporter feature.

It's up to you how much you give, and there's no regular commitment.

Just click the link in the show description to terrify. Welcome Friday night again. Oh, can't see my face. No, it's, it's Larry Santoro. Come on in. It's dark. It's late.

Tonight, I'm in the nook of our apartment. It's a little space around the corner from everything. It's where friends stay when they flap into town and have nowhere else to go. A lot of writers have done that. Our poet tonight, Marie Alexander, is one of them. More of that later. But sit, relax. The nook is dark, bookshelves to the ceiling on three

walls, overfilled, leaning, things, old memories, dangling, shadows, pictures on the fourth

wall. Some of them are very disturbing.

That's okay. Those who have stayed here haven't minded. They seem to like the place.

One writer chum, who was a regular in the nook a few years ago, said it was the most comfortable place he slept in a long, long time.

Wonder why.

One reason I decided to do Tales to Terrify, that's what you're here for, isn't it, Tales to Terrify.

One reason was that I thought it might one day begin to feel here a little like what life was

like growing up back in the old century. Television. Didn't have one until pretty late in my

kidhood. Before that, the family gathered in the dimness, listened to radio, then the wonder world of adventure, chills, music, comedy,

and it all took place in the head.

My great Gilderslee was, I am sure, vastly different from my mother's.

The grandparents' view of the inner sanctum was worlds apart from mine, but there

we were.

All of us, all joined in the silent dark listening, seeing in our hearts worlds of difference

all spun from the same sounds.

I hope we can do a little of that here.

So snuggle in the dark and share some stories.

...