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

 
Twenty Eight/August/Four
 
One of my main homeboys took 80 colonopin the other night. Suicide attempt. Bored. Drugs and music seem to be his only source of joy. My other man has decided he’s giving up on quitting dope. “I’m a junkie and that’s who I am. Dope is what makes me happy”.

Drove to Knoxville and played a show there. Nice. Mountains. Then hit Springwater in Nashville again. A slimy dive which was the most happening bar in town in the seventies and has been on a steady decline since. First played there when Kara Nicks from the seminal punk label, SST was booking the place, and struggling with her own demons. She told me that funny-ass story about D Boone from the Minutemen throwing coctail weeniers on stage at Michael Stipe at the end of an Enforced Vegetarian tour with REM.

The PA system there is down to four working chanels and one working speaker. The local pot dealer, a fan of ours, told us he’s got colon cancer and had been drunk for so long he hadn’t noticed the intense pain that came to front when he got sober. Goes in for surgery and chemo next month: cash.

The audience was mostly old drunks and local rock-stars, and friends of the opening act, Tom House who does really bad-ass, original, Appalacian-style shit. Tom’sgot a book out called The World According to Whiskey. Soundsfun.

End of the night, local shamen/artist Dave Cloud comes up with encouraging words. “Got a new lease on life. Really makes you appreciate. Don’t know how long. Might be short. This fascist administration. Nobody feels like there’s any security. Greatto hear people singin’ about letting go. A boy loving a girl. An athlete loving a challenge. A depressed person loving something that makes ‘em happy. “And I think you did that tonight. You made people happy and that’s something to be proud of. So many people sucked into the pit of hopelessness. Sometimes just this much happiness can make the difference between life and death. Between the water being up to here,” indicating above the nostrils, “and here”, indicating below.

And that was nice to hear.

Stopped in at the Watering Hole Lounge afterwards. A strip bar just West of exit 22 on 65 South, headed towards Huntsville. My man, Tony Goodner DJ’s, bounces and does the door at this classic joint. We got there at like, quarter-to-three, ashe got off, and smoked a badly rolled joint before crashing out at the Pilot, where we showered this morning.

Wonder how the Republican Convention and protests are going up in NYC this weekend.

Peace.Mike iLL |

 
 

3/08/2004