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


| | | — | | Went to the PO Box today. Video tapes, fanzines, photo’s, presents, letters. My man discussing his recently discovered homosexuality as well as his Jewish Orthodoxy (and recovering from “bullshit Christianity”). He plans to pay $200 - $600 per beat to drop his deep ryhmes over. Make a demo. Dig? Rivka continues to teach me about pussy. Ran into a friends wife/manager. They’re getting divorced, I’m informed. Sucks. We talk about the $six grand she’s getting stiffed on, as well as what to do when submitting video tapes to college activities committees. Voice overs are the new fad. She knows these folks want to manage/book Mad Happy. Like’s ‘em, but they didn’t do shit for her act. Nice. We’re getting married. Nice idea. All about commitment, but ‘t’s a lotta fuckin’ work gettin’ the event together. Same time as booking shows and shit. Sellin’ your ass gets tired fast. Nice to be young. Hiked through the shanty town under the Union City Viaduct en route to therapy this afternoon. Motherfuckers have some damn two story buildings up in there. Tin roofs and fuckin’ storm drains. Windows. What the fuck? These motherfuckers are bad-ass. ‘F you’re a friend, ask me about our July 4th picnic party for the wedding. mike@obliteration.com. Sleepin’ in a loft in the van. Made of ply-wood and 2 x 4’s. Nice, ‘till about 9:30 AM when it’s too hot. So, we take an afternoon nap. At least in theory. Many miles. Many emails. Sellin’ the art. Ha. Love Montgomery, AL. Love Pensacola. Our new home town. Props to Ace. Props to Dan and April. And Scott. Somehow feel like a cross between a work-a-holic and a bum. Like to see the world go out of business. Nihilist? PeaceMike |