Category Archives: Ministry

Hope Springs Eternal, and All That

This is my first big recession. Well, the first that directly affected me. When I was a kid, there were those long lines at the gas pumps, but the worst trauma that came out of that was I had to roll around in the Way Back of my Mom’s Ford LTD station wagon and angst over whether or not I would make it back home in time for Kroft Superstars. Then, in 2001, there was a recession, but I didn’t feel that one, either. I was in health care, so there were just as many patients before as after, and my benevolent employer had already told me I wouldn’t be earning any more money with him (yeah, and I stayed two more years), so clearly there was no dent in my raises/bonuses. Since its inception, the Architect’s then business was a constant struggle to keep afloat, making the crunch of hard times feel no different than what he and I had been struggling with for years. But this one–ah, this one–I’m feeling every single second of it. And, yeah, I’m more than a little scared. It goes to figure when we finally decide to be grownups and buy a house and gut the entire thing, everything goes in the shitter two months later. Sometimes when I think of it, I even feel a little sorry for myself. Then, I think of Nana.

Nana was my great-grandmother. When I was old enough to appreciate her, she was already pushing ninety, and was a self-proclaimed, “Wheezy, woozy, wobbly old bitch.” Nana was born before the turn of the century–not this past one, but the one that used to sound so impressive to young ears. Nana survived two world wars, a depression, the early death of her husband, and rebounded from loss of a breast to cancer in a time when the odds of surviving were clearly out of her favor (and reconstructive surgery was a laughable proposition). She watched one son go to war, and a son-in-law follow. She worked as a telephone operator, and still managed to bake two pies and a cake every week for her family. She saw it all, from the highest of highs, to the lowest of lows. And when my thoughts turn to Nana, I think to myself that if that old bitch could weather rough seas, then so can this young one.

Every generation has its tale of woe. From World War II, to Vietnam, to right now. It’s only natural that if one lives long enough, one will see hard times, along with the good. So, instead of wishing it wouldn’t happen, I will instead wish that we each live long enough to see the bad, and then live long enough to watch our country climb back to the top.

On a related topic (and the tinfoil-hat-type living inside me is shouting that it’s still too early to celebrate), tomorrow is the day when change comes. If I were to allocate my excitement, it would be 35% for the new guy, and 65% for the fact the other one will be gone for good. I’d post this tomorrow (when the inner foil-head girl will finally be silenced–about this topic, anyway), but I’m planning on parking my ass on the sofa and watching the changing of the guards in real-time. It’s the first time I’ll have ever bothered to watch the festivities, so you can guess just how excited I really am for the changeover to occur.

Below is my celebration song (no actual video content, sorry). I have waited a long, long time to play it. If you’re less than enthused about the coming changeover (or offended by Bad Words), skip it.

The lyrics (for those of you that don’t understand metal-speak):

Ministry Lyrics
The Last Sucker Lyrics


So, Tuesday night the Architect and I were in Philly at the Fillmore (formerly the TLA on South Street). We were fourth (and fifth) in line. Despite the fact they had sold VIP passes and a huge amount of people were let in before us, we were still able to get front and center on the floor. The metal growler band Meshuggah opened. Some ingenious headbanger tried to deliver me from my financial woes by offering me ten bucks for my spot in the front row. When I refused his generous offer, he proceeded to elbow the shit out of me for Meshuggah’s entire set. Thankfully, it was only eight songs long. Then, Ministry took the stage. The metalhead went away, but no one else did. The crowd swarmed, and I was pinned to the barrier for the remaining two hours. I was kicked in the head by crowd surfers twice, and hit in the shoulders by combat boots numerous times. I quickly learned to duck whenever the bouncer in front of me pointed at the crowd; it meant another surfer was coming. My ribs are now bruised from the barrier, and my shoulders and back are a colorful mix of bruise and broken blood vessels. Yep, my old ass got handed to me by the swarm of crazed youth. But, even as my feet were screaming at me to get off of them and my spine was aching mercilessly from the constant gouge of elbows, the last set came to a close. And, at the end of the show that marked Ministry’s last tour, Al Jorgensen reached down and handed me his guitar pick.

I’m one happy, battered girl.

Oh, and did I mention I’m still deaf? Crank this up to eleven and you’ll see why:

Another rejection/It’s nice to have friends/Eardrum-blowing sadness

As evidenced by the title, this post is a jumbled collection of ramblings:

I had another rejection yesterday. Not a big surprise though; this firm was a long shot. Still, I had to wallow in the requisite five minutes of self-pity, followed by a quick burst of nagging self-doubt, and then end it with my usual fallback of, “F**K ’em all” (while still secretly wishing those cool kids would finally let me in their treehouse).

My spiral of negativity was cut short by my newest personal rock star, Steve Malley, who popped in to point me in the direction of a new agent who just might tolerate my hyperverbosity. Now, Steve didn’t have to do that. In fact, he didn’t have to think of me at all–I’m sure he had better things to do (at least I hope so). But, he did. And that made me remember how nice it is to have friends in my current business of currently not doing business. So, thanks, Man.

I have come to accept that Resonance may not be my starter novel. I wholly believe it is publishable, but it may not be the one to get my foot in the door. I’m not ready to shelve it, yet, because eight rejections really isn’t so many. Still, I’ve broadened my view and am no longer pinning every one of my hopes on that one novel. The new book has been started in earnest and I’m looking to make it shorter and more mainstream-friendly than Resonance. If this new one gets my foot in the door, so be it. Either way, I’ll have an additional finished novel ready for round two, whenever it happens.

Tomorrow is my trip to Philly to see Ministry in their final tour. For one last time my eardrums will be blown, and, I suspect, so will my mind. My excitement is mixed with a profound sadness; after the last encore of the night there will be no more albums, no more concerts. The stage will go dark and thirty years of ass-kicking music will come to an end. Al Jourgensen is now my fallen god and all is wrong with the world.

Gee, I hope I don’t forget to buy a tee-shirt.