Joni Mitchell is response to whether the music business has changed in her lifetime:
"Well, no, I've been screwed from the beginning. There wasn't any
bidding war for me in the beginning. It was like I was like
Rachmaninoff, a late romantic or something -- what I was doing was
already over, you know. Nobody wanted to really take a chance on me, so
the deal that I got was just atrocious. I mean, it was like slave labor,
really -- no points, no budget. And I've never really had a good deal in
the business. So I would never take another deal in the record business,
which means I may not record again, or I have to figure out a way to
sell over the Net or do something else. But I'd be damned if I'll line
Well, my Inbox was just graced by the digital presence of one of my heroes in print. I sent the below story to Jay Nordlinger - the managing editor for The National Review - and the writer of my favorite column, Impromptus.
Sam goes to preschool at the local high school three days a week. It’s run by students at the HS. They do projects, crafts, reading, etc. with the kiddoes. And it’s free. Good stuff, right? Well, they decided to do a Halloween project with the kids. They sent home a note with Sam. Below is the full text of said note. I have preserved every aspect of punctuation. None of the grammatical errors are mine.
On October 28,2002 our group will be making boo who? Which is a Halloween card. Were asking that your child bring a small picture of them self to place in the middle of their boo who?
I have no faith in the public school system. I am officially for home schooling (Sorry, Janna).
there. I said it.|
Sunday, October 27, 2002
From Barberman's Greatest Hits, Vol. I; a.k.a. the little blue notebook I write stuff in . . .
Through the Corncob Darkly
I think that I should have been born in the late 40s. That way, I would have twenty-something in the late 60s, early 70s. I have this wish for two reasons: 1) the music was just plain better; 2) I probably would have, at some point, been pressured by somebody into trying recreational drugs. I know, I know - DRUGS ARE BAD! And, what's the difference? You can get them in '02, too. I know all of that, but it seems like the reasons for smoking pot & whatnot nowaydays are so mundane - "I'm a slacker, I'm addicted, etc." But, in the 60s and 70s, pot, LSD, acid, etc. were more than just the end, they were the means! They were the vehicle for mind expansion, for the creation of art.
Sitting here with imitation-corncob clenched between my teeth, inhaling tobacco fumes, I get a small inkling what all of that was about. I don't know if having something to puff just lowers inhibitions, or if it actually helps me think better, but it seems like the only time I write anything that I ever want to go back and read, is when I sit out here.
But, I wonder if it is less about the pipe, and more about the sitting. Maybe all I need is quiet (or relative quiet, anyway). Maybe the pipe is just an excuse to get away from the TV and the wife and the sounds of structure for a while. There are sounds out here on my porch - cars pass, doors open and shut, familiar voices drift by and fade. I feel like I'm at Walden Pond out here. All I've got us a folding chair and a pen. Maybe that's all I need.
There is a flicker that passes from the porch light, off of Sam's swing, and pushes the left corner of my eyeglasses. Thanks to the wind, the swing sways, just enough to make that flicker intermittent. The swing is red, so the flicker is red, too. I thought at first that there was a spot of blood on my glasses, maybe I had burst a vein.
The swing is empty, but a couple of hours ago it wasn't. It moved more then.