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


| | | — | | Woke up four times before crawling out into the trials and tribulations known as life. The three dogs howling to be let out into the yard here in Memphis, Tennessee. It’s cold here, but nothing compared to what we head home into. West coast dates cancelled. Numbers don’t add up. ‘Side from that, this tour has been excellent. Did about 21 shows in 25 days and people are coming out to see us. Maaaaaad Happy. This dude we met in New Orleans named Diamond (his mother named him that. diamonds are a girls best friend. dad was a gangster got killed ‘for he was born. up in the bronx) wants to have us play some club called Snake or something in Jackson, Mississippi where he’s one of the champion fighters. Motherfuckers get in the ring drunk as they want and beat the fuck out of each other. Like to see it, but I don’t know about being in the place. So anyway. The more we drink and party, the more they drink and party. The more people come out, the more we get paid. But that’s not our game. Rivka holds it together. We’re getting some really amazing styles going combining out two influences. Have had three showers between us the last month. “Personal Cleansing Cloths” keep the bugs away. April 1st we move to Pensacola, Florida. Fuck them New York winters. Diary’s been collecting dust for 6 or 7 weeks and hidden from view too, due to a horrific computer crash. Today we risk our lives on America’s interstates for another 170 miles to play through a PA which is rivaled by radio-shack stereo systems. Springwater in Nashville, TN. It’s a beer-only joint whos only saving grace are the bartenders, clients and the music booker who worked at the legendary punk label SST and was/is tight with Mike Watt and D. Boone (RIP) of the Minutemen. Check that band out and give it the time it takes to get it. A billion blessings. Visualize peace.

Happy Holidays.ill |