watch me explode

Right now I kind of feel like one of the technicians at Chernobyl. On one hand, I want to deny my role in unleashing a curse onto humanity, on the other I feel the need to confess so the same mistake is never made again.

Who here likes to read magazines? You might have noticed a new magazine named Explode, aimed at teenage boys, has hit the stands. Here's the confessional: I was once employed by Pacific Publications to work on articles for the mock-up to take to focus groups for this magazine. The job was only temporary (a month, regular readers might remember me talking about this job this time last year) and nothing ever came of it. Or so I thought.

I've never really written about my time at Pac Pubs because I secretly harbour dreams of working there again. Working at PP was a mixture of wide-eyed whimsy and stomach-churning corporate culture coated in the worst elements of laddish behaviour. The final straw for me was the hilarious office joker who made some "funnies" about effective ways to kill muslims and, despite my best efforts (including my clever charade of hiding my gayness to fit in with the boys), the background level of casual misogyny really got to me.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. First, let's talk about teen magazines. I secretly think mags like Girlfriend are great. Mixed up with all the contradictory messages about body image ("body image campaigns" are lame liberal feminism's evasive response to manifestations of alienation under capitalism. Say it! Capitalism fucks you up!) are some very heartfelt and interesting articles. My favourite article was one about how "psychics" use techniques such as cold reading. I'm in the privileged position to know a couple of people behind that particular magazine and I know for fact that they're very genuine and quite aware of the role they can play in young women's lives. Go and read some Chomsky about what bad media institutions do to good people.

Which brings me to my role in the formation of Explode. I was employed to write articles, tidbits and to come up with regular feature ideas. Reading this article on Crikey bought to my attention that some of the things I wrote made it into the first edition, as well as almost all of my ideas. Which is not to say that the entire publication is made up of things I made up (far from it), but that my ideas didmake it in. The gross out pictures in the opening pages? My idea (although I had shark attack pics in the mock-up). Here's the part where it starts to make me look bad: those break-up lines quoted in the Crikey article? Yep, I wrote them. Custom car culture? Me. Sealed section? Me again. Dolly Doctor for boys? I lay claim.

I tried to argue against the outright sexist stuff like scantily-clad women but, as you can see, I lost. I questioned the value of warping teen boys' ideals of femininity just to sell Playstation games or whatever. I think opening my big trap about the sexism is probably why I didn't get hired. And I would've taken the job, too. I'm more than prepared to sell out, it's just that no-one is buying.

So I'm filled with a conflicted mixture of disappointment and horror. It's like drunkenly cracking onto someone you think is ugly, only to be rejected. I'm curious as to why they didn't hire me on an ongoing basis given that they (seem to have) used so much of my writing and the editor almost seems to be quoting me verbatim on things I said during meetings, about rites-of-passage etc. I'm kind of glad they didn't though. Having said that, I'm still available. Stephen? Hello? (That's the conflict speaking).

I haven't bought a copy of the magazine yet. I'm a bit scared to see what is in it. Fuck it, I'll get a copy today. Let you know about the results soon.

PS I'm super sick right now. Send me comments of sympathy!