x-x-x-x-x. Ortiz. Transmission from Hell. new Jersey

Gave the 1991 Dadge Caravan with 207,000 miles to Nathan Browningham. Took an “interesting” 40 hour train and bus trip back to Pensacola, via New Orleans, where we briefly ran into Otter, MC Trachiotomy and El Tonios.

Got home Saturday at 5:00 AM, slept and hosted two acts from San Francisco that night at Sluggo’s. Death Sentence: Panda! are a trio of electronic clarinette, flute/vocals and drums; and Gold Chains and Sue Cie are an electronic, new-wave/hip-hop duo. Nice folks. Show was fun. Though they complained mildly about the tour thus far.

Gold Chains is a talented punk who gets things handed to him. You can smell it. Like a dirty, funky, arm pit. They want him to come to Australia, but he doesn’t feel like it. He’ll make better money sitting at home, programming shit on the computer. Probably never put a poster up in his life. Chats with your girlfriend while the other’s deal with his gear. Princely.

He knows it too.

We rent a car for the next nine day jaunt. Take Greyhound after that. Make better money sitting at home, programming shit on the computer. Van Gogh’s painting career lasted 10 years, start to finish.

Rivka’s sick. Mom is super-bad-ass. Woman is creator and destroyer. Feel it. Work harder, bitches. Meredith Borden turns further in to microtonal music and the idea that our ears are brainwashed to the cheap, McDonalds, instant-gratification of “even temperment”, which is at odds with the natural balance of the harmonic series. To the point where music that is truely “in tune” sounds out of tune to our hearing.

Her and Dad were off on some esoteric conversation about how each note contains every other one, somewhere up in the harmonics. All this shit you can’t hear. She’s into this guy, La Monte Young, who has some crazy space in New York that emits perpetual drones in harmony with the universe. You can go there on Thursday’s and Saturday’s for like, four bucks.

still sunny. Mike iLL

8/11/2004