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


| | | — | | Wilmington, NC. Played last night in a giant cave called Bessie’s. The local band who was supposed to have a crowd had cancelled (don’t know when) and the kids that opened the show drew two people. Noone came to see us. Tuesday night. Waddaya want? One-thirty PM and we’re just waking up at this flop-house where the club soundman and some local musicians live, rehearse and record. Nice folks. This kid’s in a jam band that covers Phish, Widespread and Medeski, Martin and Wood. Rivka and I are both depressed and probably not looking forward to the show at the metal club in Spartanburg tonight. Tomorrow’s looking sketchy too because we had had a show in Atlanta booked for two months now and the club is under renovations or some shit. Tried to dial into the internet here, but there’s some weird shit with the phones and noone’s awake yet. Gig we did in South Jersey at the Brighton Bar the other night the booker, Jacko (a poet) is saying how it’s fucked up that kids who just started their bands two months ago bring in more people than folks who have been doing it for five, ten years. A rainy Sunday night with a full moon. We drew one person; a healer who gave us a huge tip and bought probably the 10th CD she’s gotten from us. My Antifolk Road Manual is sold out. Out of print. Moon last night looked amazing. Still almost full and with a ring around it that took up half the sky. You could’ve fit fifty suns in there. Wow. Wonder what it’s like out today. Weird missing half the day and spending the rest in a van or in a club. Psyched (actually) to see some of the kids from Spartanburg tonight. At least we have a small following there. Got to go call this club to see about a “pick-up” show for tomorrow. Then maybe take a shower, some green tea. We’ll probably end up in a diner with these folks. Things are looking up.

A Million Blessings. love, mike