Last weekend, Kelly and I drove up to St. Petersburg with friends to see Ira Glass present a one-man stage show explaining how he makes This American Life on the radio. I had no prior familiarity with his work, having not heard the radio show unlike the fans that I went with, but I think it's long past time that I started listening to the celebrated series online.

Glass talked about how he studied semiotics in college, and that made a lot of sense: He approaches the radio show not like a journalist, but like a storyteller, using structure rather than content to build the audience's interest. He broke down some of his most famous episodes and explained how he organized them to build mysteries in the mind of the listener and establish universal connections to the people in the tale. I'm absolutely going to start applying his lessons to my own storytelling.

The stage show was frequently funny -- Glass has the skills to be a comedian, if not the psychopathology -- but for the cost of the tickets, I guess I expected more. It was over so soon, after Glass explained maybe four aspects about how his show works, and there was no visual element to the show other than Glass just walking around the stage, gesturing as he talked. The radio show has zero visual component, so I thought maybe the stage show would project images onto a screen or bring out some props or something to differentiate it. The stage show did include several requests to donate to the local NPR member station, so it was like the radio in that sense.

Even though stage show itself was not very good despite some laughs, I'll be glad that I went if it gets me listening to the backlog of This American Life online and gets me to approach storytelling in a new way.


Logical Operator

The creator of Funeratic, Scott Hardie, blogs about running this site, losing weight, and other passions including his wife Kelly, his friends, movies, gaming, and Florida. Read more »

Manly Pastimes

"So what did you do this weekend?" "I went drag racing." "Really? Go »

Parking Lot Pun

Overheard from an elderly woman whose groceries were being lifted into her trunk by a teenaged boy: "When you're as old as I am, the world is your hoister." Go »

Buying a Printer

I bet if you work in a grocery store, you spend part of the time rearranging food that you know is going to get thrown away after it doesn't sell, so you feel like you're going to a lot of trouble for nothing. That's what buying a printer feels like. I hate buying printers because I'm highly skeptical that I can find one that will still work after six months, after Kelly and I have gone through a long series of them for the last ten years that all broke down like flimsy pieces of crap. Go »

Firsties

It's been one year today since Kelly and I got married, but that feels strange to say, since it's been nineteen years today since our first date back in high school. I don't mind that it took us so long to get to this "first" anniversary; I'm just glad that we got here at last. We spent the day out feeding flamingos at a local animal sanctuary and eating at some favorite restaurants before I go back on diet tomorrow. Go »

The Angry Number

Steve Dunn is bemused when people speak out against corporate America, as if it's a bad thing that they give millions of people jobs and create the products & services that enrich our lives. I'm with him, but sometimes I do get tired of being treated like a number. I've been a good tenant at this apartment complex for three years – always paid rent on time, no loud parties or messy pets or maintenance problems. Go »

Lars and the Ripoff

I'm sure that Lars and the Real Girl is a good movie and that Ryan Gosling is Oscar-worthy, yadda yadda. But will the bloggers out there spreading the word please stop acting like it's such an original premise to have an adult treat a life-size doll like a real person? In the past few years alone, I've watched indie movies May and Love Object cover the same ground, with Dummy skirting closeby, and those are only a few examples; plenty more exist through the years. Go »