Don’t Tell a Soul (

I never saw The Replacements live. And I don’t think their breakup was on my radar at the time it happened, either.

But I remember sitting in a dark car, age 16 or 17, after working at my crappy movie theater job in South Carolina, in the summer when the nights were just as hot as the days, and listening to Don’t Tell a Soul. And I remember it being the best thing I could possibly listen to at that particular moment.

It was on cassette and maybe it had something to do with the cover art, but it just fit perfectly, hearing “Talent Show” and “I’ll Be You” and “Achin’ to Be,” wrapped in darkness, driving home with a deep longing sitting in the seat next to me; a sense of feeling adrift. My 1976 VW Bug was not factory blue, but it was still blue, and I was generally pretty unhappy. But the kind of unhappy I was was exactly the kind that could find anodyne in the music of the ‘Mats. Continue reading


Conveniently Located Next to the Spoonulas

The Second Great Depression was not shaping up to be as glamorous as the first.  Audiences were not spending time in grand movie palaces captivated by Fred Astaire or Ernst Lubitsch movies, nor was anything very much like The Purple Rose of Cairo.  So in 2010, I took two part-time jobs.  One at a snooty cook’s store in the mall, and one at a new Internet newspaper that was the latest venture from one of the original Web companies.  Mostly I took these jobs because, not being particularly smart, skilled, or able, no one else was calling.

About a year before, I had relocated from Chicago to Atlanta just in time to see the world fall into financial insecurity.  It seems just as I started looking for a job, there were none to be had.  So after a year of fruitless searching, and with the holidays fast approaching, I scored two part time jobs in the Second Great Depression. Continue reading