#nate dimeo

[bethanydelleman]

If you enjoy The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald, as I do, there is an amazing free audio recording by Nate DiMeo, on his podcast The Memory Palace. He read the entire novel after learning it had hit public domain and his voice is great.

Here is the first section, for some reason I'm having trouble finding it on the official website. You can find it and The Memory Palace podcast, which is a series of snapshots of the past in audio form, on any podcast app as well.

[firstofficerrose]

The Memory Palace is so good, you guys.

[metapphjores]

my favorite and most tried and true meditation technique for the last eight years has been listening to nate dimeo's recitation of walt whitmans a song of myself, which he recorded the night before the 2016 election. there's something about it that has always been really centering for me. he recorded it knowing his listeners knew how things would turn out even if he did not. and what he wanted to do with that moment in time recite poetry.

[mxroo]

Every June 12th, The Memory Palace podcast by Nate DiMeo re-releases the episode A White Horse, in memory of the Pulse Massacre. Every year, I set aside time to listen, remember, and mourn. https://play.prx.org/listen?uf=http%3A%2F%2Ffeeds.thememorypalace.us%2Fthememorypalace&ge=prx_3_a66567d8-e5b5-4d2c-afe2-7ae3915d0c1c

[acommonplacepage]

The other scientists were too important to lose in some atomic catastrophe. They had kids. They had tenure.

Babysitting by Nate DiMeo from The Memory Palace

[mitchipedia]

In 1910 “the whole world seemed to be obsessed with the dazzling possibilities of aviation.”

[dubbatrubba]

Radio Killed the Radio Non-star

Radio Killed the Radio Non-star

[friendraichu]

This is The Memory Palace, I'm Nate Dimeo.

You could go to Dreamland. You just caught the ferry at 23rd Street or the Battery, or slogged your way through the slow crawl of horse carts and motor cars heading south on Shell Road and the golden light of a late June afternoon, down to the edge of the Atlantic. Where a white city rose up above the brick and ash in Brooklyn. And you could walk through the fake marble gates as the sun went down. And the sea flashed amber and then gray, and Staten Island disappeared into the shadows, and the light grew dim enough for you to fool yourself that the marble wasn't fake at all.

And then the bulbs blinked on. A million of them lighting up the night in the largest amusement park in the world, which was a hell of a thing to see, just a few years after you'd seen your first electric light at all. And after you'd spent a 12 hour day in some basement room or some windowless factory floor, stitching sleeves or packing boxes, fitting fingers to gloves by gaslight. It'd be a hell of a thing even now, to see dozens of white buildings made to look like French pavilions, Roman fora, Florentine towers. A glow at the edge of the ocean where you could dance in history's largest ballroom, where you could drink tea in a Japanese garden, where you could sit in an auditorium in bleachers surrounding a vast pool of salt water and watch submarines fight a fake battle beneath a scale model of San Francisco.

You could buy your ticket to Dreamland and take a gondola ride through the canals of Venice, past St. Mark's Square and the Doge's Palace, steal a kiss beneath the Bridge of Sighs. You could ride your first escalator, this went to the top of a giant slide which would send you down caroming off obstacles like the Plinko board on The Price Is Right; if you landed on the right spot you won a prize. You could take a miniature train ride through a fake Switzerland or another from New York to California, or walk the streets of Cairo, or Paris. And other places you were never ever going to go otherwise.

Or you could sit on a swing with your friends inside a tiny house and then feel the swing move and feel yourself flip end over end and only figure out later on when you're all laughing over beers, sitting out under the string lights and salt air, that you hadn't moved at all. That it was the tiny house that had flipped end over end, around you. You could gawk at a freak show. In it premature babies in a hospital ward. Which was a freak show too, but one that happened to be the only place in the world equipped to keep premature babies alive. You could sit and watch them through the glass alongside their anxious parents.

You could see a cast of 2000 people set fire to a six story hotel and watch firefighters put it out, scaling ladders to rescue actors from real danger and catch them in nets as they made panicked leaps from fourth story windows so they can make panicked leaps tomorrow night, and the next night, and the next. You could tour the Lilliputian town where dozens of little people live full time in a half sized village, a 15th century French village. Because the indignity of living in a human zoo with modern amenities wasn't enough.

You could fly over all of it in a hot air balloon. You could sink below it in a diving bell. You could watch a magician make a woman float right over your head. You could eat a hot dog (They'd just invented hot dogs). You could see a one-handed lion tamer and chariot races and whirling dervishes and snake dancers. And you could climb into a boat ride called the Gates of Hell, until one night.

One of those million light bulbs blew, and sent a spark that flitted onto paper maché and sent all of Dreamland up in flames. And 2000 firefighters - all of them pretend - couldn't put Dreamland back together again.

[cafeinaliteraria]

Café com Sabor de Livros

Relacionar livros a bebidas a base de café Café Expresso O livro que você esteja lendo atualmente: Você é minha mãe?, de Alison Bechdel Compre aqui   Capuccino Um livro romântico, mas sem muito “mimimi”: Carol, de Patricia Highsmith Compre aqui   Frapuccino Um livro ideal para ser lido no verão: Bagageiro, de Marcelino Freire…

Café com Sabor de Livros foi originalmente publicado por Cafeína Literária

[deanobanion]

I wanted to share the most recent episode of the history podcast “The Memory Palace” that interweaves the stories of two famous Jewish Americans because I thought it was particularly moving and timely. Take a listen!

[podcannon]

Link to the Memory Palace website here

Nate is always on point, and I believe if you like podcasts you should really subscribe to him anyway.  But Nate has also been doing a good job of using history to call out racism and other injustices.

This episode hit me, because it speaks of Nazis, in America, holding rallies in the open.  Which I’m sure he knew, and you know, that it’s incredibly relevant.  And this episode teaches us that we need to get a ladder and a baseball bat. 

Thanks for all you’re doing Nate, if you ever see this. 

[52ip]

Hazel Dorothy Scott

Born: June 11th 1920 in Port of Spain, Trinidad

Hazel Scott was pulled from her birth city at the age of four and moved to New York, where she lived with her mother Alma, a pianist and music teacher, and her father Thomas, a West african scholar. Early in her youth she gravitated to the piano that her family members played before her. One fateful day her grandmother tried to sing her to sleep with a lullaby but wound up nodding off before Hazel. Hazel snuck away to the piano bench and began pressing down those ivory keys, learning those sounds for herself. After the commotion proved to loud the grandmother awoke with a start to find a four year old Hazel Scott playing, from memory, her lullaby.

I feel it only fair here to mention you can find a beautiful telling of Hazel Scott’s life on the podcast: The Memory Palace, by Nate Dimeo, which I pulled a lot of inspiration from in my retelling.

When Hazel was eight she caught to attention of Juilliard professor Frank Damrosch for her interpretation of Rachmaninoff, skewed to fit her eight year old hands. She learned the classical and found it frustrating, so she changed it so she could play it. Eager to support her gift, she garnered supported at the school and learned musical theory, musical interpretation, and pushed her gift into the churches, clubs and concert halls of New York. At the age of sixteen Hazel Scott was combining the classical with the modern, the old with the rhythm and syncopations of jazz. She sang and played alongside her mother and even landed a gig at the famous Greenwich Village Cafe Society, where stars like Langston Hughes, Eleanor Roosevelt and Billie Holiday attended. She had struck a figurative and very real chord with the musical language of New York. She also became the first African American to have her own TV show, “The Hazel Scott Show” which appeared on DuMont television network on July 3rd, 1950.

Hazel Scott pursued the civil rights of all minorities, and she married the first black congressman of Connecticut, Adam Clayton Powell Jr. She looked at the roles of blacks in Hollywood and decided at the start that she would not play to segregated audiences, she would not let her band use the colored entrance, and she would never play a maid or a fool on the silver screen. She fought hard and she fought smart to make all treat her and her fellows as equals, and this made her a target.

When the Red Scare swept through the nation, Hazel Scott found her name in Red Channels: A Report on Communist Influence in Radio and Television, citing her performance for a communist party members election gala a decade prior. Hazel Scott voluntarily appeared before the House Un-American Activities Committee to argue her involvement stating that her support of this candidate was based on his influence from the current socialist founders in the current government. She argued that this man was a Socialist and that they had been fighting the Communist threat longer then anyone, and as such were allies to our cause.

A week later her show was cancelled and her slowly career spiraled down to small gigs and empty theaters. He marriage fell apart and she attempted suicide twice only to be diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. She died on October 2nd, 1961 at Mt. Sinai Medical Center in New York. She left behind an only son Adam Clayton Powell III, and only grandson Adam Clayton Powell IV, he read this at her funeral, a poem by Langston Hughes:

To Be Somebody,

Little girl

Dreaming of a baby grand piano

(Not knowing there’s a Steinway bigger, bigger)

Dreaming of a baby grand to play

That stretches paddle-tail across the floor,

Not standing upright.

Like a bad boy in the corner,

But sending music

Up and down the stairs

And out the door

To confound even Hazel Scott

Who might be passing!

Oh!

Little boy

Dreaming of the boxing gloves

Joe Louis wore,

The gloves that sent

Two dozen men to the floor.

Knockout!

Bam! Bop! Mop!

There’s always room,

They say,

At the top.

Fear is a revolting dictator, it can promise you safety if you shun the world, the beautiful reality around you, for a flicker of stability, however false it is.

Hazel Scott was a treasure we squandered. My hope is we can learn from her story and find the truth in all things, so we don't have to be afraid anymore, so we can transform like her music, classic yet new.

[sorrellegiance]

suddenly remembered that time i sat behind roman mars at the allusionist live show...i think...idk! the voice sounded right and he was talking about “nate” and podcasts, like nate dimeo from the memory palace but i didnt want to like. lean over his shoulder and go ARE YOU ROMAN MARS

[badgerofshambles]

Podcasts that are keeping me sane right now: a masterlist

So shits bad right? Take it from someone who still has to report to the hospital for work every day, sometimes you need to just Not Think About It if you want to stay sane and healthy. Personally I find that in times like these I cannot handle anything heavy or suspenseful. Here’s some content that’s helping me cope:

Phoebe Reads A Mystery: Phoebe Judge is the host of Criminal, a true crime podcast for people who don’t like really even like true crime. She has decided during the quarantine to read Agatha Christie’s first novel The Mysterious Affair at Styles and is releasing one chapter a day for the duration of this goddamned mess. I turn this one on just after getting to work and scrubbing in and I can feel my blood pressure drop. Her soothing voice, the brainspace a mystery steals from other things, the imagery of the quiet English countryside; perfection, all of it. Listen on iTunes/Spotify/web

The Adventure Zone: Classic escapism. The McElroy brothers and their dad play Dnd (and a few other tabletop rpgs) with varying degrees of success. Seriously this is one of the only things that distracted me from my rage and panic post-2016 and it still works now. I’d recommend starting at the beginning and working your way forward but each arc is an entirely new story so if you don’t want to start with Balance you don’t have to. There are hundreds of hours of episodes of hilarious and powerful storytelling in the form of a real play podcast. Also somewhere along the line griffin got really good at scoring stuff? Love these boys. Listen on iTunes /Spotify/web

Sleep with me: this one is for when it’s time to pull out the big guns. Did you overdose on news and now you can’t sleep? I sure have & will continue to do so, and this is the antidote. Drew Ackerman sounds like one of the mooses from Brother Bear and his gentle rambling about inconsequential nonsense is designed to be tuned out so you can drift off into dreamland where none of this horseshit is occurring. Turn it on while you brush your teeth and get ready for bed and not a moment sooner; this is aural Ambien. Listen on iTunes/Spotify/web

Everything is Alive: this one took a moment for me to warm up to, but now I’m pretty well hooked. A series of mock interviews with inanimate objects that occasionally mixes in some history and human interest threads. If you’ve ever wanted to hear a sharpie marker and its cap argue about the circumstances surrounding infidelity in their marriage then this is the show for you. The new season started last week. Listen on iTunes/Spotify/web

Twenty Thousand Hertz: a podcast about sound and everything related to it. I won a tee shirt from them when they made their mystery sound of the week the call of a large bird of prey that I worked with/was scared to death of as a wildlife educator back in college. If you are a musician, a former theater kid, or even just fucked around in garage band for twenty minutes in 2013 this one’s for you. Listen on iTunes/Spotify/web

The Memory Palace: When I say this is probably the best podcast of all time I mean it. Nate DiMeo tells perfectly bite size stories from history in a soft impressionistic way that will occasionally make you Feel Things. He’s been on this grind since 2008, so you won’t run out of episodes anytime soon. Listen on iTunes/Spotify/web

If you have suggestions to add to this list drop me an ask!

[middleofrow]

Best Podcasts of 2019

Best Podcasts of 2019

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