Over the course of the two previous newsletters—now scrubbed from the vast expanse known as the Internet forever—I was overwhelmed by dissatisfaction in a few different areas. As a measure of spiritual relief, I have long had a platform to express my emotions; MySpace, Tumblr, a variety of personal music essays that various people in the field of music journalism see no place for. We all know that few people write about their interior lives and sweeping life experiences all that well, especially people who write about music. I have a lot of thoughts on this, but I’ll save them for another platform—and I guess I’ll save my musings on the emotional front for my memoirs.
Regardless of industry standards (as much as I reject being a “younger-middle-aged professional” or a “media personality,” both those statements could be determined as objectively true), for this newsletter, I felt the “tearjerker personal essay” approach didn’t feel true to what I wanted this platform to represent. For one, I’ve had a therapist for nearly 18 months. Secondly, the State of the Union coupled with the intentionally self-promotional aspect of The Martin Douglas Mail Order was a bit disjointed. A square peg and a round hole, holding hands walking down the street.
So I’m coming up with something different. Something I can really approach as its own medium, rather than a regurgitation of things I’ve done in the past coupled with things I do on my limited social media platforms today. It will start with the Martin Douglas Mail Order Best of 2024 Year-End Blowoff, which will drop sometime in December (giving you fair warning, because it could be tomorrow or it could be New Year’s Eve).
It will, as always, include some of my favorite work that I’ve done this past calendar year. It will also spotlight my favorite television, visual art, books, live bands, maybe music that I feel not enough people are checking for; anything that piques my curiosity as a lifelong lover of art in many of its forms.
Some might say I need another creative endeavor like I need a hole in the fucking head. But the truth is, my creative life feels to me like it needs a jumpstart. I’ve been spending too much of my energy making “product” for people to “consume” (the very purpose of this newsletter is to have a menu, so I’m not above reproach here) and the battery (that nebulous space between the creative brain and the sensitive heart) is dead.
But the jumper cables are here. Just sit in the driver’s seat and turn the ignition until the engine says go.