Hey, how’s everybody doing? A little glum lately, fellow Americanos? Yeah, me too; we have a president who is an apologist for violent white supremacists, which is utterly horrifying and unacceptable, and I don’t know how we as a country will be able to move past this point.
The dearth of regular posts around here will, I fear, continue for a while longer. Perhaps indefinitely; I’ve been toying with the idea of discontinuing this blog entirely and moving on to something new and different. But no decisions have been made yet, and so this website, as with many aspect of my life right now, is in a bit of limbo right now.
Seattle continues to be lovely. The coffee and doughnuts are consistently excellent; the parks are filled with evergreens and totem poles (see above). Three months in, I’m still looking for steady work; I’m currently waiting to hear back from a cool-sounding job as an editor. Fingers crossed.
So… I published the Duranalysis book on April 20th, right? It’s been four months, and in that time I’ve sold… hmm, let me run the official figures. There it is: I’ve sold seventy-seven (77) copies.
That’s really bad. Super bad. Kind of hilariously bad, if you want to look at it that way. Downright disgraceful, especially when you factor in how I’ve given away eighteen copies for promotional purposes, which is a pretty terrible return-on-investment. I’m trying to remain upbeat, but I’m having a really hard time putting a positive spin on this. It’s fair to say I’m not a dynamo at self-promotion—it cripples my soul, just a little, to ask people to buy my work—but I did try to sell this one. A bunch of extremely cool people—Ernest Cline, Martha Quinn, John Henson, Melissa Joulwan, Elisa Lorello— wrote some very kind words about it. I sent copies to various websites that review this sort of material, but none opted to review it. (Duran Duran’s management company and their social media strategist both requested and received advance copies; I didn’t hear anything back from them, but I wasn’t slapped with a cease-and-desist, either, so I’m considering it a net positive.) Self-publishing is an uphill battle, I know, but even still, I’m proud of the book, so it’s tough to feel good about this result.
Brighter subjects: I wrote a curmudgeonly piece for A.Side about how the soundtrack for Atomic Blonde, while loaded with kick-ass new wave songs, ultimately failed the movie. You can read it here.
Also at A.Side: The always-great Sarah Kurchak, whose name has been mentioned in hushed, reverent terms on this site more than once, wrote a tremendous article about Duran Duran fandom (with a particular focus on the jubilantly bonkers Arena (An Absurd Notion) concert film), in which she refers to me as, ahem, “the Duranie’s answer to Roger Ebert.” I am bursting with pride at that.
The trailer for Ready Player One, Steven Spielberg’s adaptation of the best-selling book by Ernest Cline, dynamic guru of all things eighties-related and all-around awesome guy (he contributed the great cover blurb for my Duranalysis book), debuted at Comic-Con last month. If you missed it, here it is in all its dystopian-future-drenched-in-eighties-nostalgia glory:
My hair was becoming a tangled, comb-snaring mess, so I hacked it off this week. This is my very scientific haircut methodology, which is a technique I have faithfully followed my entire adult life: Look in the mirror, pick up the scissors, and chop until roughly the same amount of hair is on the ground as is still on my head. Here’s the result:
Here’s what my trashcan looked like post-haircut. Pretty sure there’s a Tribble in there:
I did a “Do You Believe In Shame?”-themed Duranalysis cartoon last week for Duran Duran Appreciation Day:
Song of the week: A friend with exquisite taste in music, knowing of my fondness for Duran, introduced me to the music of Japan, the David Sylvian-fronted new wave/glam rock band from the late seventies and early eighties. Here’s “Fall in Love With Me”:
Until we meet again, please stay well and happy, everyone.