Before anyone asks, no I wasn’t born under a rock. I do, however, drive a car that has no radio and another car where the kids dictate most of what is played. So, I miss things. Yes, there’s Pandora and Spotify, and even YouTube inserts musical suggestions from what they’ve gathered from my browsing history, but sometimes they are all so very wrong. My relationship with the former two have pretty much stopped like a bad love relationship, with them just trying to shoplift a little booty and me saying ‘I feel like you don’t even know me.” It doesn’t matter so much with YouTube, because there is no limit to how many songs you can skip.
Yes, at times they have both matched me up with something that wasn’t heinous, but the good music they introduce me to is never worth that moment when I have to say, “How in the world would you ever think I would like something like that? I swear, sometimes it’s like you don’t even know me!”
But today I got to drive the car with the radio and listen to my music, which at this time was 105.7 the X, and they played this song by The Revivalists, titled “Wish I Knew You.” Man, what a jam. Apparently, if you pay much attention to popular music you’ve heard it, as it was #1 on a couple of charts in May. I hadn’t. I have now, and, while I’m not looking forward to the Springsteen shows, I am looking forward to hearing that tune again.
OK, so I just made that happen.
One thing that did disappoint me is that, a quick listen to parts or all of ten or so of their songs introduced me to a lot of slow stuff. I’m sure this is all just fine music, but what I was really looking for was more of that vibe that “Wish I Knew You” has. There were a couple of songs that hinted at it, but nothing as good or as vibey.
Now, for a bit of more personal news, and there aren’t many things more personal than music. Over a five week period last October and November, I submitted work to 16 different periodicals. About ten of these submissions were small collections of poems, while the rest were short stories. Despite having been working on a writing career for more than two decades, I had never submitted work in such fashion. Nor had I written many short stories worth publication until the second half of last year, if any at all.
Prior to yesterday, eight of those periodicals had responded to the negative, while the other eight submissions were still pending. And then, with yesterday’s mail, it happened. What was it? Had I placed my first work with a periodical? No, I hadn’t. Actually, it was another rejection. This time, however, on the form rejection slip, the editor had written:
Thanks for sending
“Next of Kin”
For those in the know, the form rejection is your basic rejection. If you get a little note, however, anything that is handwritten, it could possibly mean that the editor felt that, while the submission didn’t presently fit the needs of his or her publication, it was good enough to take a few seconds to add a little more than most potential contributors get.
So I got that goin’ for me, which is nice. (Name that movie. Hint: pitchfork, but it’s not a horror film.)
Anywho, off to other stuff.
Love and thanks.