(Page last updated 2008)
“What were you thinking?”
The end is a good place to start.
When the ride was over, in October 1988, we all moved on without regret.
As Kath’s analysis indicates, we had spent 3.423% of our budget on the January meeting at Obie’s, where we decided to publish a rock-&-roll monthly and to name it after something warm.
What ensued were publishing adventures in the last days of tool-line, perilous IT exploits involving crucial data on the 10-megabyte hard drive that absolutely had to be moved to the new 15-megger (except that you couldn’t), idolatry of a band called Orange Juice and a drink called Diet Dr. Pepper, and hipster psychodrama on a level nobody could possibly care about.
Two of us married each other and stayed in Nashville. Of the others, one ended up a marketing director in Brooklyn, one an art-history professor in Bozeman, one a telecom entrepreneur in Berlin. We all went our ways. One of us left the fold some years ago, to be fondly missed.
Ladies and gentlemen, The Fireplace Whiskey Journal.
Obiter dicta: Other bits & bobs from the ‘80s Nashville rock scene