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

 
Seventeen/September/Four
 
Survived Hurricane Ivan. Ivan the terrible. House survived too, although that can’t be said for all the houses in the neighborhood. Roofs ripped off, windows blown out, trees falling all over the place. Spent the last two days cleaning tin roofing, tar paper and tree limbs out of the yard. There’s no electricity or water. I’m writing this from the van, with phone line running into the house.

National guardsmen running about with M16s, protecting the property owners. Wild scene. Power may be out for a month or two they say. Roommate’s got a crank-up radio. We await word on where to get water and ice. Rivka filled every container we had full of water and froze it, and cooked all the beans and shit we owned, but that shit’s almost all melted. Cooking with the coleman stove. Living large, relatively speaking. We bath with “personal cleansing cloths” we have from being on the road. Flush the toilet with buckets of bay water. More later.

Listening to indestrial, punk, rap, disco shit with laptops: Peaches, Gold Chains, Hawnay Troof, Grand Buffet, Cex. At least we were when we had power.

Mad love for by bro, Benny Raw on his birthday.

Good Love and Emotional Hurricanes.Mike iLL |

 
 

17/09/2004