So Derek just pulled a Scott Andrew and posted an MP3 of one of his songs, A Face Among the Rest. It’s really pretty good – although Derek’s voice reminds me of someone that I can’t quite put my finger on. Hmmm.
I actually think there’s something in the wind, because this is something I’ve been contemplating doing as well. Lately I’ve been scribbling lyrics in my pocket notebook, and while so far 99% of them have been utter garbage, some of them aren’t so bad. The worst is that there are two songs still floating just out of reach, and it’s totally frustrating because I just know that they’re the good ones, as opposed to the dreck that’s been showing up so far. And yes, Derek, my songs are just like yours – they’re all about women. I’m trying to stay away from the “just another done-me-wrong song” genre and focus on some postironic flat-out love songs. Given the events of the last couple of months, this is a little tricky, but I have some little fragments about luck dragons and modern-day gypsies that hold some promise.
Here I go again, contemplating another project. Somebody shoot me. Worse, I’m actually contemplating two – but these two, for the most part, are ones I can do without much assistance from others. I think. Well, one out of the two, anyway. After doing Inkblots for so long, I’m tempted to officially shelve it for a while (instead of always feeling guilty for not doing it) and go play Kerouac instead of Ferlinghetti. One of these days I’ll figure out a Dentonesque scheme to get Inkblots to pay for itself and there won’t be quite as much squabbling for my attention between these projects, but what the hey. If Inkblots was a paying gig, it wouldn’t be Inkblots.
On a related note, did you folks see that Slate turned a profit this quarter? Let me say that again: Slate, the lit/culture/politics zine published by Microsoft, turned a profit. I feel the snark building, threatening to burst out in a bilious rage. Slate?! Of all the boring, humdrum, mundane, flat-out dull zines out there, people are paying for Slate!? The indie publisher’s mind boggles. Yuck.
That’s it. I’m going back to writing my novel.