This past week brought with it new friends, new music, and a new opportunity to not make money. It also brought with it two new reviews of mine on Prefixmag.com:
Sleeping People - Sleeping People"
Capillary Action - Fragments"
That second one I wasn't even supposed to write. The dude contacted my publisher about getting my e-mail address (I suppose he wanted someone that had written metal reviews), started pleading with me to write a review, even if it was short and bad, and finally I relented. We became e-buddies in the process after we realized that we were döppelgangers (wouldn't you want to be friends with yourself?). Thing is, I didn't care that much for the album, and the dude predicted that I would give it a higher rating than I did, which made my heart sink. So I had to choose between journalistic integrity and possibly upsetting my other in the matrix. I took the high road, and thankfully, unless he's lying, myself liked the review. The new stuff he's recording as Capillary Action is a lot better, more of a stitched together collage of samples that could never be released legally in the US without spending like a month and a fortune on sample clearance. I'd review it, but I think there's a little conflict of interest there. It'd be unfair of me to review an album written by me.
I had a long talk with my my publisher yesterday about taking over the editorship at a new LA events site that Prefix is creating. Pros: lots of free concert tickets, a much larger audience than my current site, something nice for my resume, a spiffy new @prefixmag.com e-mail address, and absolute power over what appears. Cons: I wouldn't be paid anything until we got a whole shitload of advertisers interested, I'd have a whole lot of data entry to do, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Any words of advice?
For the first time in a long while, I took out an old diary of mine (really the only one I kept regularly) from late 1999, right after I returned from Israel. It didn't surprise me to find how much I wrote about Reva--my relationship with her dominated my inner life at that point. I WAS a little surprised by how little else I wrote about. No music, only a little about other friends, nothing about the wider world. These days I still think about relationships too much, but I'd like to think I've broadened the scope of things that I'd be willing to divulge in a document that nobody else will see. Perhaps this just highlights the difference between the good ol' diary and the blog. As I get more and more used to preparing my prose for public consumption, it seems increasingly strange not to include a multiplicity of tidbits that might interest someone other than me.