The magazine I was working as Chief Editor for was shut down. Apparently, the publisher/owner was a crook. We didn't get the second issue out (ostensibly, it had been "postponed" for another month, making it our October issue instead of our September issue, which presented some minor problems but was entirely workable from an editing standpoint). I was in the middle of building issue #3. Then the owner of the building our offices were in approached me last Monday. "Your magazine has until Wednesday to come up with this month's and last month's rent or we will change the locks and put your office's furniture out on the street. We haven't heard from your publisher for the last three weeks. You're the only one who comes in regularly. If you know how to contact him, I'd suggest you do so immediately." She said nothing more.

I called the co-publisher and asked what the hell is going on. "Clean out your office, Jay," he told me. "Jimmy's flown the coop. He's tried to cash some large checks that were earmarked for advertising and he's not returning ANY messages. He keeps giving me the run-around about what he's doing. The writing isn't just on the wall, man, it's blinking in neon. We're going tits up."

There's a whole slew of mitigating circumstances which led up to this breakdown of the magazine. Things happened which, admittedly, were outside the publisher's control and which hampered the magazine to a severe degree. But instead of pulling himself up by the britches and redoubling his efforts, he has decided to run for the hills with whatever advertising money he could liquidate and left us holding the bag. Wait. Correction: he left the co-publisher holding the bag. I was the editor, an actual employee of the magazine. I'm not responsible for jack shit.

I am, however, pissed. This last week and a half have been fraught with depression, angst, fury, frustration, doubt and confusion. I dumped a LOT of time into that magazine. I dumped a lot of my SELF into it, too. Forunately, I didn't put a single dime into it. But it definitely didn't put much money into me, so I'd guess we're sorta even. Though it would have been nice to be paid for my time and trouble. Fat chance of that happening now.

The whole fiasco has become a legal nightmare. I almost got pinned for possession of "stolen" property (my own laptop, strangely enough), but that matter was quickly resolved with a few phone calls and a meeting with my lawyer. I'd LIKE to file a civil lawsuit to get the backpay which is due to me, but I have a feeling that 1) it'd be completely fruitless to even try and 2) I'd have to get at the back of a VERY long line of other litigants who have some legitimate claims against the publishers/magazine.

So I'm back to being just a strip club bouncer once again, broke as a joke with one lousy issue to show for my effort. Fuck. I can't win for losing.

I wish I could return my life for a refund or replacement, as this one just plain old sucks.