E-mails from a novice free-lancer to his editor

[this article is satire]

Editor’s note: In this week’s Antennae, we offer our loyal readers a glimpse into the innerworkings of our editorial process. Below find the unedited conversation between Antennae editor Egor S. Grand and correspondent Colin Dullaghan.

Week One

From: Colin Dullaghan
Date: Wed Jul 2, 2003 11:49:35 AM
To: Egor S. Grand
Subject: Underground Club Review

Egor:

OK, I went to that abandoned warehouse you told me about, but there was nobody there. Remembering what you said, I banged on the loading dock door three times, waited, then rapped twice more and hooted like a pigeon. Nothing. There was a fire escape, I noticed, but it was higher than I could jump, and when I tried using my car to push a dumpster closer to the wall so I could maybe jump off that and grab the first rung, the metal on the side wall of the dumpster started to cave in and smoke was coming out from my hood. For a few minutes I even tried running and springing off the wall to reach the ladder, but it was no use. Then I was pressing my ear against this hazy windowpane to listen for that super-secret dance club you described, but I could only hear the rumbling of an IndyGo bus passing by. When I turned around a lot of the people on the bus were staring at me from their seats and the whole side of my face was filthy. Plus, I think I sprained my ankle trying to jump off a mailbox. In the end, a white security truck came around the corner and I had to hobble to my car and leave, so I’m sorry but I don’t think I can have that underground club review for you until next week. I’ll go back tonight and try again. I’ll take the bus until my car’s fixed.

Sorry I let you down, and thanks again for the assignment. I’ll get this story yet.

Colin

Week Two

From: Colin Dullaghan
Date: Thurs Jul 10, 2003 09:40:16 AM
To: Egor S. Grand
Subject: Re: Biker Bar Review

Egor:

Sorry again about the warehouse thing. I just know there’s something going on in there; I just have to be persistent. We’ll crack this thing — just you watch.
As for that biker bar you wanted me to review, things didn’t work out very well there, either. First off, I couldn’t even find a listing for The Flaming Wussy in the phone book or by calling information, so I started asking around at some other roadhouses and bike shops to see if anyone had heard of it. I don’t mean to stereotype, but some people can be really rude sometimes. I ended up riding my little brother’s scooter to this place called Killer Frank’s Blood Puddle, this bar out on Washington. My car’s still in the shop. When I limped in the door (my ankle has been getting pretty swollen lately) everybody turned and stared at me, but I was cool. I set down my helmet on the bar facing out so everyone could see the Honda logo and know I was a fan of the two-wheelin’ lifestyle. I figured since you said that other place was known for their Cosmopolitans, this place would probably serve them too, right? Well, when I called to the bartender and ordered “One virgin Cosmo, please” (no drinking on the job, like you said), the guy next to me just shoved me right off the stool. I hit my head on the base of a nearby table, yelped a little, and after that it was kind of confusing.

So it looks like this week’s review is a wash, too. Oh, well, maybe I’ll have better luck next week. Where was it you thought I should go again?

Colin

Week Three

From: Colin Dullaghan
Date: Mon Jul 21, 2003 10:01:56 AM
To: Egor S. Grand
Subject: New Club Discovery

Egor:

Good news! I found a club on my own, and it seems pretty cool, so I’m moving forward with my review. It’s called First Presbyterian, and it’s at the corner of Thompson and Madison. So far everyone’s been really friendly (nobody said anything about the rash or the ankle) and it said right on the sign out front that they welcome individuals of all backgrounds. There’s live music, and they even encourage you to sing along with the band! The lyrics are printed in books they have scattered around, so it’s kind of like karaoke. The drinks are OK, but rest assured — I only had a sip. I remember the rule. I’ve been going to this club every night this week, and there’s always something going on: poetry readings, audience participation, casserole buffets, you name it. Everyone’s treated me a little strange since I tried to order a virgin Cosmo, asking me what parish I’m from, but I just smile and say I’m fine with water.

I think this might be the friendliest place in town. The only awkward moment was when I asked if the big statue up front was of the club’s founder. It was quiet for a second, then they said yes.

You should drop by here sometime — everyone says so. I like them all so much I’ve invited them all to go with me to some of the other clubs I know of. I bet they’ll have a blast at The Manhole.

Thanks,
Colin