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27 august 2000
i'm handicapping Yawn. Just dug out my old alarm clock, plugged it in, and set it to wake me to the sound of a bubbling brook at 7:23 tomorrow morning. First day on the new job, new office, new computer, same old me. Cruised over to the Dume Room this afternoon for a few tequila shots and beer. No-one I knew was about, and I wasn't in much of a conversational mood anyway, so I grabbed a copy of the Malibu Times and started leafing through it at the bar. I nearly coughed up my beer when I saw my own face staring back at me, smiling from the middle of page B-2. It's one thing when you know you're gonna be in the newspaper. It's another thing when you just happen upon yourself while sitting at a bar. So I called IceDog. "Grab as many copies of that as you can." He didn't sound that surprised. "Yeah, our publicist sent out a bunch of press releases about the next gig. Good to know he's doing his job." I neglected to mention that on friday, I was paging through LA Weekly and saw that they had us as one of the "picks" for Wednesday night, right alongside Duran Duran and some other bands I've never heard of. I wonder if our publicist did _that_ too. I hope not. It's a sad state of affairs if bands can _buy_ editorial recommendations from popular newspapers. I dunno, I just find it very strange to keep on stumbling across myself in the local media. I can't imagine how my celebrity neighbors must feel. Should sleep now ... 27 august 1999: : didn't write 27 august 1998: expendable me : OK, that lighting bolt can come out of the sky and fry my brain to epiphany right now. [ swim back | email me | swim ahead ] |
