Listen to Rebol

Enthusiasm for my amazing book idea (the "true" story of three obscure jazz/soul players who came together in 1968-70 to form a label that is now almost forgotten except in the pages of Wax Poetics magazine or in my mind) was quashed when a certain dinner guest commented last week that it was very "specialist stuff" (ie, not a good idea). I politely agreed but thought I'd do it anyway (stubborn being my middle name). Today, my "contact" in the "States" for this stuff said "Unfortunately, I think it's an interesting story and you may too...but there are maybe 10 or 20 others that would agree. Probably not enough to justity the expense of research and the publishing of a book (and all the ill-will it would re-instigate in the widows and other survivors who probably know or care very little for the music you'd want to talk about). It's just not a pretty picture - and certainly not as exciting as all the women Sinatra slept with or any other Jolie/Pitt/Aniston/Paris Hilton scandals most people care about. The label really was just a blip in the music world. Certainly not a Blue Note or Impulse (which gets its own book next month) type thing."

Ha ha.

Uff...

I am rambling.

Still drunk I think.

I'll forget the whole idea.