x-x-x-x-x. Politics of Sex, Noise and Depression


| | | — | | Ha ha haaa. How funny can you get? We just came from this club Don Hill’s in New York where they sell budweiser for five bucks a bottle and sometimes have really amazing nights of music, fashion, fetishism and sex. I think they still do, anyway. This promoter invited us to play a party there and we’re like, whatever; Monday night, we’re in town, could be fun. Guy that’s running the night is one of those … how do people vibe on this? Well, he looked kind of cool like early eighties new york rock with long black hair and eye-liner and shit. It was one of those deals where they get as many bands as they can to bring their friends and then have the bands go on two hours late so their friends drink the five dollar buds, and they pay the bands 2 dollars for every person they bring down or something. So we’re getting ready to get our shit on stage and some kid comes up and is like, “Uh dude, we’re supposed to go on now. The guy says to go talk to him at the door.” Homeboy’s all, “Just hayng aayauoot. You’re heya aneeway. They’ll play fa’ twenee minits, den you go on. It’s Monday nahyeet. Who kayas? I don’t kaya.”

I go, “Yea. It’s really fuckin’ obvious you don’t care. Have a nice life.” And I gave him a look that probably came from somewhere between a Johnny Rotten “fuck you” and my parent’s Catholic guilt. Film maker Nick Zedd came out to see us tonight ‘cause he wants to use some of our music in a film. He’s a pretty well known underground “punk” film maker who did shit with Lydia Lunch and (I think maybe) Henry Rollins back in the day. Lots of wierd angles and sex and drugs and shit. Writer too. I love the stuff. Think he’s a vampire.

Ten Thousand Blessings. love, mike