I heart The Moth.

 

When I was teeny tiny I was in love with a product called “Story Time” – a cassette tape full of stories with an accompanying magazine. I have a vivid memory of an Easter holiday during which I received Story Time number three or four (the magazine was bright red?) and my heart did runneth over with joy. That same holiday I remember eating sweetened condensed milk out of the tin. Yeeha! Does life get any better than that?

I’m no longer teeny tiny, but I still love audio books and stories. There’s even a part of me that can get tangled up in (dare I say it?) reality TV, just to watch other folks’ (edited and / or contrived) lives, journeys, and stories. So when I discovered The Moth – neither edited nor contrived – I wondered how I had lived without it. There is life sans-Moth and avec-Moth, and I know which I like better. The stories are sweet, funny, sad and bitter. Each recording is made in front of a live audience and the speaker has no notes. In the stories there are heroines and villains and oscillations between the two. They are real.

This week’s Moth podcast is Salman Rushdie, speaking about treating writer’s block with a jaunt to a war torn Nicaragua. I’ve been stuck in a writing quagmire lately. I still write, but it is a viscous and arduous kind of experience. Accompanied by much sighing and eye rubbing (I stop short at flailing or fainting onto a nearby chaise, but only just). I’m not sure how to cure it, but I’m going to leave visiting war zones off the list of possible solutions. I’m much, much too lily-livered for that. I prefer strong cups of tea, chocolate and cosying up with my Moth podcast, happily sinking into other people’s exotic adventures and twisty tales…

 

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