A Pleasant Surprise (or My old CEO has eight fingers and eats babies)

Just before the stock market crashed and all the dot-coms imploded and smoldering embers rained down from the heavens upon the pathetic masses of post-collegiates, Xlibris was a pretty decent place to work. It was a print-on-demand publishing company, and it appeared to have a okay business model with an admirable philosophy (making publishing affordable for average people). For some reason, the CEO was missing two-fingers on his right hand. Some say he was born that way, others say it was a science experiment gone awry.

At the time, it seemed that if you were young and/or cool and/or attractive and/or talented, you probably worked for Xlibris (or you knew someone who did). I also worked there. It felt more like summer camp than a place of employment. There was a lot of drinking and a lot of hooking up and a lot of foosball going on. But then the bottom dropped out, day turned to night, our CEO started feasting on the flesh of newborn babies, and everyone quit or got fired. (They've recently located most of their business to the Philippines, where they can practice slave labor and cannibalism with impunity.)

One of the people I ran across during my tenure was Mike Kiley, an actor/singer/songwriter, who went to front a local band called Cordalene. Mike and I were always friendly, but we were never friendly-friendly. (We never hooked up or anything.) When we see each other in a bar or on the street, we'll usually stop and catch up. One day, a few years ago, I was doing my serious-writer-struggling-with-brilliant-ideas-in-a-coffee-shop thing (probably writing something about pirates or robots, really), when Mike walked in. He told me that his band had recently released an EP of new songs. I said, "That's cool," and nodded my head in that non-committed "I'm probably not gonna buy it" way. And then he reached into his bag and just gave me a copy. "Cool," I said and nodded my head in that non-committed "I'm probably not gonna listen to this" way. Then he left, and I went back to being brilliant.

When I got home, I don't know why, but I listened to the EP. And it was really fucking good. I don't mean I-don't-have-to-lie-when-I-say-that-I-don't-hate-it good. I mean I'd-actually-go-out-and-spend-money-on-this good.

Now, when I see Mike at a bar or on the street, we'll stop and catch up, but I'll usually spend way too much time talking about how much I like his music, and he'll usually look uncomfortable about my creepiness and try to slip away without hurting my feelings.

mp3: Cordalene - Ghost

(Update: If you live in New York, you can check out Cordalene any Wednesday night at Pianos through February 17th. If you live in Philly and you're reading this, it probably means you're me, so you should get off your lazy ass and finally see them live any Thursday through the 24th at the Khyber.)

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