Hiatus! Well They Are Allowed, You Know!

A few years ago when I was trying to get in the good graces of an alternative weekly that in due time I would have been eventually laid off from anyway, a very drunken Listings Editor from said publication approached me at a show, asked me if I wanted to be his roommate and that our Music Editor had just been fired. Hmph. Nothing like a slurry non-sequator to start off a conversation from someone who was probably a King Cobra tall boy away from forgetting this exchange by the next morning.

“Hey, thanks. I’m happy with where I’m at, but I’ll think about it,” which was my polite way of saying, “Your bass player lives on your couch when you’re not on tour (true) and he’ll probably steel whatever’s not nailed to the floor for heroin money (eventually true).” Looking back, I don’t know if I should have felt flattered for the offer or insulted for meeting his very low standards of living. Either way, I ended up booking it to New York City while his band broke up and he relocated to San Francisco.

Anyway, a quick pause followed before a rehearsed “And that’s too bad,” in regards to our now ex-boss. In actuality, this was a long time coming as it was painfully obvious that she never used Microsoft grammar check and had the personality of a deer caught in the headlights, but I kept that all in as I knew they were good friends at the time.

As far as I know, the fired Music Editor, who now live a couple subway stops over from me, is still legitimately creeped out by my presence because I once tried to hit on her at a Mogawi show. While inebriated. In Front of her boyfriend.

I don’t know why all this came to mind other than having way too  much time on a slow, slightly hungover Sunday morning. Armed with a Google search and his absurdly long, complicated last name, turns out Listing Editor is now a travel writer who’s about to embark on bike tour of Africa where I’m sure will be nowhere near as exciting as sitting in my underwear, in front of my laptop. I’d have more details on what else he’s been up to, but he wont accept my Facebook friends request for some reason. Douche.

Ah, Journalism.  You cruel bitch goddess of a college major. You now rank somewhere between Creative Writing and Bowling when it comes to post-graduate employment relevance. You’ve inspired countless music blogs, college radio internships and bartenders who are looking to go back to grad school. It’s like you practically wrote, directed and starred in Kicking and Screaming –the Noah Baumbach version.

Two out of the five publications that I use to freelance for are no longer in print, one is limping along after they cancelled home deliveries and the on-line data base has been irrelevant since Wikipedia was invented.

So know we’re stuck with this, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. No editor breathing down your neck, a complete freedom to write about whatever you want, no deadline, no paycheck, no credibility, no spellcheck and extended vacations that no one noticed in the first place. Huzah for New Media 2009! Now who’s going to show me how to get Google ads on the side of this thing so I can at least have two nickles to rub together?