Unthinkable Cramps | Season 1

Towns have rules. Small or large they all follow the basic rules of abiding by the forward march of time and the laws of physics. But there’s always one town that doesn’t play by the rules.

Welcome to Unthinkable Cramps. A small, surreal town where time does its own thing. Sometimes it exists, other times it doesn’t. What is real here are the people and their individual realities shifting as they may be. So come along and experience these little slice of life moments of the inhabitants of Unthinkable Cramps. 

Ep. 1 – Ria

Ep. 2 – Murky & Sanchez

Ep. 3 – Sasha & Yoyo

Ep. 4 – Diane & Decaying George

Ep. 5 – Mac & Nova

Special Announcements!

Ep. 6 – Ria|Remote Viewing

Ep. 7 – Murky|Dinner

Ep. 8 – Sasha & Yoyo in the Shapeshifting Factory

Ep. 9 – Diane & Shelia

Ep. 10 – Mac, Nova and The New Guy

Special Announcements!

Ep. 11 – Ria | Jerry the Monk

Ep. 12 – Sasha & Yoyo*One-Armed Lady Bandit

Ep. 13 – Decaying George -n- Doors

Ep. 14 – Murky & Sanchez on It’s Poddy Time

Ep. 15 – Carlos the Rebel

Special Announcements!

Ep. 16 – Ria.Enter the Heart

Ep.17 – Sasha & Yoyo.Dynamite!

Ep. 18 – Lady Griddlebone & Friends

Ep. 19 – Murky. Bloody. And Drunk.

Ep. 20 – Mac & Nova.The Great Escape

Special Announcements!

Ep. 21 – Ria and Cat

Ep. 22 – Sasha n Yoyo.Riding That Train

Ep. 23 – Diane & Sheila.Droning So Hard

Ep. 24 – Murky, Sanchez and Soul Pods

Unthinkable Cramps | Ria

Bodies get tired. Too much work. Too much travel. Physical pain gets unbearable. Was this physical pain Ria was feeling?

The room felt too small. Maybe it was. New places felt simultaneously too big and too small whenever she found herself in them. A cigarette butt was jammed into the air vent on the floor. Had someone been on a spiritual journey in this room? The thought exhausted her.

A nurse put her hand on top of Ria’s with the same gentle touch as a grave robber. Building trust like a good human. 

“Ria, as you know it takes guts to come here. So thank you for bringing them in.” 

Ria’s eyes shifted to the corner of the room where her open suitcase overflowed with guts. 

“Here at Don’t Fade Away, Person…” 

Ria struggled to pay attention as she noticed the nurse’s hair turning gray. 

“We’re all about life in this world, Ria. Your life.” 

Someone was whistling in the hall. A janitor? The tune sounded familiar to Ria’s ears. 

“As you know,” the nurse continued, “we’re the thirty third ranked rehab in the region for world displacement recovery. We treat you like we’re licensed professionals thanks to our dictionary of rehab lingo.” 

Was it a tune to raise the dead? 

“We take Interdimensional Lethargic Blues Syndrome very seriously…sometimes. So lucky you.”

Traveling across dimensions back and forth. The years (had it been years?) were piling up. For now she would stop. Ria knew this was a temporary fix. Just something to remove the contamination before she continued on her journey. Maybe the tune was an old Christmas carol? 

“We have plenty of experience with philosophers, buddhists, skinwalkers, liars.” The nurse was in the doorway now. Her hair back to its original chestnut brown. “Before you know it you’ll be good as used. Even get your shadow up and running.” 

She closed the door behind her. 

Ria dragged her shadow over to the door and pressed her ear to it. 

Listening to the janitor’s tune. 

Her eyes shut. 

A monk sat with legs crossed in her mind. 

A memory. 

His chanting dissolved into a whistling. 

In an instant he dematerialized. 

Her eyes opened. 

The tune faded down the hall. Ria looked at the crooked sign on the back of the door. “Don’t Fade Away, Person.”

Dream Time Radio

Welcome and good night. This is Dream Time Radio broadcasting outside of time to bring you…

For a slice of local news in a far off land a device created to enhance the imagination has been built by a man who has grown fed up with his lack of imagination. To prevent a riot we ask that no one tell him he used his imagination to create this device.

If you can dream it…

Let’s close that door. For those looking to chant pay attention. It doesn’t matter if your bod is asleep or resting or being torn to pieces by midnight woodchucks. One easy way to do this is to stop breathing. Soon you’ll be gasping for air and this…this is how we chant to seduce the gods.

You’re receiving a text message right now that you can’t read. It’s from…

Falling. You will be if you don’t slide over. The edge is near. Falling off the bed is a lifetime in oblivion. Don’t open your eyes.

Coughing up grasshoppers is a sign of purity. Suddenly everyone wants to sit and eat at your table. You pull out a sandwich bag of french toast. Someone’s beard makes fun of you…

Your friend is in two places at once. You’re lost. The block moved as you walked around it.

The midnight woodchucks have agreed among themselves to wear wigs. Humming is an ancient ritual to bring them closer to…weird weird wood, wanting, waiting to be…

Biohazard Bertha is doing wheelies on her dirt bike outside your window. Forget about her. Stay here. She’s not a threat. What’s a threat?

If it grows and that’s a big if…what will it loom over? It’s a new house full of surprises. Let’s not show anyone what’s happening in the closet. 

You’re gasping for sweet oxygen. Sweet sweet…sweetness. We don’t have such problems here. Nothing to get addicted to. Chant as if your life depends on snoop dogs doggstyle album

Remember what I told you. Now your head is hanging off the bed. You opened your eyes. I told you not to open your eyes. You should be looking at the floor. But now you’re frozen from fear. Your strong intent to scream is making me uncomfortable and not making for very good radio. There’s a sense that screaming will eradicate the horror you feel looking at yourself looking back at you from another dimension. Without a release valve the fear becomes too much and you disappear. 

Wave to your friend. So far away. Everyone gets lost trying to find their new house. They understand. One of me will see you later they say. You turn around and wave goodbye to your friend so far away. In so many spots at once.

Murder for hire Monkees. You discovered a title for your next film. The band gets back together and it’s the last train to clarksville…because they murder it. They murder everything. For a price. Then they sing about it for free.

Thank you. Yes you. For listening and worshipping dream time radio. I didn’t forget about you. You disappeared and now you’re flat on your back in some white room. I send a hand down. You grab it. It pulls you up and out. This week you’ll wonder who’s hand that was. You’re awake now.

Subliminal messaging in 3, 2…