It is with
great a little some an as-yet-unknown sadness that I must inform some of you of the death of Reservoir magazine. I know a lot of people enjoyed reading it, and despite all the things I hated about the managing editor job, it was ultimately a very rewarding experience being the man at the top for a little while. We did some fine work there, and any now-former co-conspirators from that endeavor should be proud of what you accomplished. For those just dying to check it out, I’ve uploaded and cleaned up some of the better works I did in the last year and half of Reservoir‘s life:
– In honor of the upcoming holiday, a few words on hypothetically offensive sports mascots.
– In honor of the rapidly-approaching dawn of baseball, last year’s White Sox preview which, if you change a few phrases, could actually be this year’s preview as well.
– In honor of the best show on television reaching its end, a small treatise on The Wire.
– All kinds of oldies but goodies at the bottom of this page.
– Strip clubs and Texas’ approach to them are both stupid.
– A dumpy ballpark by another name is still a dumpy ballpark.
– Music is neat.
– Metal rules, except when it doesn’t.
– Buckethead is still totally incomprehensible after all these years.
– Sensitivos can make good music, too.
And those of you prone to hanging out in freaky Chicago indie bookstores should keep your eyes peeled for the upcoming issue of Ghost Factory featuring a contribution from yours truly.
The website traffic reports suggest that a lot of you are tuning in to my little outpost regularly. I am honored to occupy a small part of your day, and I am doing my best to deliver something worth your time. Thank you as always for reading.