mike watt + the secondmen
"el mar cura todo" tour 2004 diary
week 9 (plus a few days)

thursday, november 11, 2004 - austin, tx


from raul:

   Woke up to mr. sun shining on me, and to an awesome view of the bay. It's almost like my body subconsciously knows when mike's gonna wake me up, cuz i'm usually up five minutes before, and today is no different, i was just lounging around in bed when he called me down for breakfast. Mike mcguire had made us a mini feast for fast, all kinds of goodness. A couple days before dustin had given me a couple cans of black beans at tulane, so i cooked those up, and added em' to some badass breakfast tacos. After chow i had a quick shower, and we were out. We have to drive back through refinery row to get to houston which houses the interstate up to austin. I was in the back reading for awhile, and when pete took over driving, i took over as navigator. When we got to austin, i made one mistake, i had is take I 35 north, instead of I 35 south, the one we needed. Only blew it by a block, but in the middle of austin, that could be disastrous. Seems like everytime i'm in austin, there's traffic, last year, killer dreamer spent hours going only a few blocks on this same freeway, in the same spot, today it's not that bad, and we're back on track in no time.

   When we show up to the club, we drive straight to the lot in back. Looks like the club is setting up for a big outdoor show. Pete and i hop out to see what's up, pete tells me ozo motli from l.a is playing, i'd never heard of em', pete can't believe it. I head in the green room to get some diary done. This is definitely not our room, five boxes of cereal, gourmet chocolate, six loafs of bread, all kinds of shit, boxes of gum? The stage manager comes in and tells us, this is for ozo motli, and that's that, you can hang out in the room across from here, on the other side of the stage. Fuck the other room, i'll just sit in the club like a normal boy, so i'm sittin' on the stage chimpin', and mike comes in, telling us he's been up and down the street looking for us, that him and a stage hand had to load the gear themselves, i was wondering how all the gear got inside, i felt bad and apologized, told him we were just in the back room, and we didn't even know that was going on. he didn't care, it was pretty easy he said, most of it has wheels, so i could just roll it in. This is a weird scene, we're the only band playin' inside, and there's this hugh fest outside. We set up our equipment, and wait... all the sound guys are being used for the show outside, i have no idea what's going on for the first hour, fuck it, i'm gonna go upstairs and grab something to eat. Playin' at stubbs', a bar b que place... i got a salad with a side of squash and zucchini, the waiter gave me the oddest look. Right before i ate, i met a couple of the motli guys, some of em' had known mike from touring with him before. Finally a sound check, it went well, and some more good news, i find out we're not playing till the show outside is over, for some reason i thought we'd be battling sounds, that would've sucked, cuz outside had a hugh system, and we would've been drowned out for sure.

   I take a walk up the main drag, dodging the religious fanatics forcing pamphlets on people, and trying to shake the wingnut who's trying to sell me mushrooms, i've been trippin' for days straight he tells me. I'm headed to the pool hall where i know they have a bunch of pinball machines. It's too cold to be walking around outside, so what better way to spend my time. The two best machines' were dirty harry, and one i thought i'd hate, wwf wrestling, tilt was set super high, i could kick the thing, and it still wouldn't tilt, i hate it when a tilts to low, it takes all the fun out of it, just a frustrating waste if you ask me. I spent allot of time playing the machines, nothing else to do. I walked back to the club around ten o' clock, ozo motli were just starting their set. These dudes can play like fifteen different styles of music, i liked it the best when it was just a d.j and an m.c, it was pretty talented though, great percussion section. There show ended at eleven, and ours started a half an hour later. It was rad having our stuff already set up, we just walked up and started playing. Good crowd, real supportive, they seemed into what we were doing. Wendy wwad was up front dancing the whole time, this gig was like the complete opposite of the night before in houston, i was psyched on that fact alone, i didn't feel like i was on display, it was more like we were all there to enjoy music and each other. Spot came up and did a few of the encores with us, i was honored. If you don't know who spot is, well he's the legendary producer of the sst greats, black flag, husker du, meat puppets, minute men, descendents, so many awesome early eighties bands. It was pretty rad, looking over my shoulder, and spots' playing the fiddle to the red and the black. All in all, great gig, and it wasn't a clam bake.

   After getting all loaded up, with the help of a few gig goers, thanks guys, we head over to spots' house. I was kinda hungry, so i popped open a can of dustins ' black beans, got a bag of tortilla chips, and went to town. There was graffiti all over spots' kitchen, all the bands and friends that have stayed at his place, so not to break a tradition, i got a spot at spots'. After the writing and grubbing, i decided to call it a night, i found a quite spot in the back of the house on the floor in the laundry room, and fell asleep listening to mike talk about wens. If don't know what a wen is, look it up, it's some sick shit... bye bye.



from pete:

   woke up by the picture window at mike's pad- it was a beautiful day and you could see clear across the bay- awesome sight. i threw on my duds and went into the living room area; mike had cooked us up a very kind breakfast which we proceeded to chow down w/ much fervor- it was very welcome lemme tell ya...

   I asked watt if there is time for me to do a hose off- he says yes, so I hop into the shower for a good scrubdown and a shave. I get out and rollie and watt are already out in the boat and the motor's running; I scramble to get all of my shit together as I know there will be much chiding in the boat the longer I take. I run out side and mike mcguire is rapping w/ watt- "let's go, primpetariat"! says the chief to me. I climb into the navigatore seat and we're on the road once more. much thanks to mike and ruthy for having us over once again.

   mike drives for a couple of hours then asks me to take the helm as he wants to work on getting the diaries ready for their weekly posting. we steam down US 290 w/ a low head wind blowing on our bow and raul works on guiding me into the city. we do a blow-by on our offramp (which of course is followed by a loop), but we're back on the right track soon enough. we find the appropriate exit on the freeway and within a few minutes I'm pulling up in the back of stubb's bbq (the pad we're playing at). I get out of the boat to stretch the legs a bit and do a peroxide gargle to get any bugs out of my throat. I take a walk to look around- looks like there will be a show going down in the outside amphitheatre (we're playing inside), and from what I gather it's ozomatli!- very cool as these cats are LA and I've been wanting to check them out. me and raul hoof it inside and we go into the band room to kick back. rollie chimps while I sprawl out on the couch and conk. I'm out pretty quick. I awaken later to one of the club guys setting up the room w/ snacks and stuff (he seems to be setting up for ozo' tho'). someone comes in and asks us what band we're with- we tell him we're with watt and he curtly informs us that this room is for ozo' only but that we can hang in his office (and there's a wi-fi cconnect that we can use). not wanting to rub any one wrong we got out of there and went into the club area. someone had already unloaded our gear as it was all in front of the stage area. watt comes in a little peeved and asks us where we had been; he had been looking for us as the stubb's cats wanted him to dock the boat outside and he had unloaded the gear himself (with the help of one of the stubb's cats). I told him that we had been in the band room the whole time (the only place he hadn't looked of course). he was cool about- he just wanted us to keep him informed of our whereabouts. feeling a little guilty still, me and rollie got the machines on stage and set up. we wouldn't have to break anything down as there were no opening bands; ozomatli's show was scheduled to finish outside right before we were to go on. as the soundman wasn't going to be around for at least a couple of hours, me and rollie decided to go upstairs to chow. we strapped on the feedbag and plowed thru our feast- towards the end I look down onto the stage (the restaurant overlooks the stage) and who do I see but spot! I yell out to him and he waves. spotto is such a nice cat. I dig on him much (we were also crashing at his pad tonite). spot was going to come up and lay some fidola tones down on some of the encore tunes - it would be cool to jam w/ him once again. two of the ozomatli dudes came in- uli and will-dog; they knew watt and we rapped w/ them for awhile. very down cats-no pretensions there.

   the soundman, dave showed up and miked the machines- we ran thru the check' and it sounded good, so I went down to the boss's office w/ spot so I could chimp some diary. I rapped w/ spot for awhile before my chimpfest- he was still playing and he told me he might come to do a tour on the west coast. I told him he could crash at my pad if he was anywhere near pedro. I went into deep chimp mode while every once in a while I would raise my head to listen to the opening band outside- they were called "fantasma" and man, did they groove it! the crowd went yayas over them and they had everyone on ther feet dancing. a potent mixture of salsa, funk, and rock. I was way into them. I got back to my chimp and once again listened when ozo' came on. goddamn! tight fucking band. salsa, funk, hip-hop, cumbia, ranchera; these cats mixed all styles and had the crowd pumping. I was very impressed. only bad thing, no hammond organ! I finished up the chimp just as ozo' was going into their last tune and I got into the club right before the influx of humanity came out of the show. we still had a half hour before we were scheduled to go on but I went to get the tea ready and turned on the leslie to get it warmed up. I then sat on the edge of the stage and waited for rollie to show; I rapped w/ several nice peeps who came to see us, for some it was their first time seeing watt so I wanted to play good for them. all of a sudden out of the corner of my eye I see a woman going upstairs and she trips and takes a head over heels tumble down the stairs- woh! it was like she was going down in slow motion. I ran over along w/ a bunch of other people to see if she was hurt- she wasn't, but she was shaken up to say the least. the magic of alcohol had once again claimed a victim. this one was lucky. a couple of cats helped her to her feet and she stumbled outside seemingly oblivious to what had just happened. damn.

   the time was nigh so I grabbed the tea and went to go rouse the chief, then came back in and sat stage-side to wait fo the chief w/n rollie. he soon came in and we launched into the piece- we played w/ much fire and the crowd was wild. they were way into it and it helped us pile on a good head of steam. I looked in the front and wendy wadd was front and center once again flashing us devil signs and egging us on (we had met wendy last tour- she's the owner and editor of a local music rag). she's very boisterous and a very sweet lady. we came back out and launched into the encore tunes- we were on fire once again but I still had to scream my balls off in the dylan tune as it sounded like there was once again much compression on my mic. what's up w/ this? I would have to discuss this point w/ any future knobsmen as I was really ripping up my pipes because of this and I didn't want to get any nodes. we signed many posters and the peeps were very complimentary of our playing- I was as happy as a clam. we loaded up the gear into the boat and were off towards spots pad right quick. once there I made up some tea and we rapped about the gig. we were all pretty beat so we climbed into our bags and the sueno came over us quick. sve ce to mila moja prekriti ruzmarin, snijegovi, i sas.....



from watt:

   pop at seven bells and hose off. mike's up not to much after that and makes me coff. I go out to find the sun shining through some broken-up clouds. heck, I only konked three hours but once I get up in the morning, it's hard to konk back. this pad is right on the water and there's a wooden pier that goes out to like five hundred feet to a little roofed porch deal. water and weather have battered this small pier, causing it to have a buckled wavey part half-way through and some boards are missing so I'm really careful and make my way slow. when I get out there, I sit and have a think. the spangles from the sun on the water are silver righteous and make me think of my pedro home. whoa - I see some huge white pelicans sitting on pilings from some now-torn-away peir nearby. pelicans always put a big joy in my heart, no matter what kind of hell that may be weighing on me, love them. it brings some calmness on me from this dream I had last night, kind of disturbing. I was w/the boat on the side of the road and a policeman had pulled me over. actually, I was standing next to the boat, by the port fore wheel and I was handcuffed. there was another car pulled over in front of me (not a police one - that was behind the boat w/it's lights going, making things like xmas) and there was a couple outside and the were being rousted. me, I was left alone and just watching all this happen. the man was kind of subdued and resigned to what was going on but the lady was manic - arms flying all over and hollering/raving like tourette's 'pert-near. I couldn't tell what it was about, why all the crazy shit but it looked like one of the cops was going to go off on this lady, a woman one while a man one was playing mister calm. everything would spin up all hectic and then slow way down like a video effect, not like that was really happening but in the way I was perceiving it all - like the way a flashback will weird out on you, bringing strange perceptions to your mind (I had one once during a meeting w/a boss and it would seem like he was just an inch away and all huge, like looking through a fisheye lense and then immediately after, tiny like he was a football field away). the lady was really upset and in an uproar but I couldn't understand any of her words - they were loud but blurry, maybe even in another language. I was puzzled at my situation, not knowing what had happened to get me where I was at now though it all seemed so secondary to the drama going on in front of me. there was an afraid part of me though, one that there was some kind of come-uppence I was going to have to take on - I didn't like that but I was even more afraid of what might spin out into nuttville here before me. I kept thinking about the cops breaking out their guns and just shooting wild and some stray bullets hitting me - what that would feel like, if they were gonna start swinging their nightsticks - what would that feel like to get all hit up on in the head and such. like I said, it was disturbing dream. thinking about this made me look once at the pelicans and they very much calmed me down. "the sea cures all" - the name of this tour. well, it sure cures me of that weird dream. it lets me let it go so it can sink right to the bottom. to let go of something gnawing on you, what a weight lifted... man. I let the auto-timer on the little digicamera take my portrait here w/water all around me on this tiny tiny island made of wood. trippy about this wood, it's all covered w/a light green moss - not thick but kind of like a textured varnish. my walk back is as deliberate as my walk was out here, very slow and careful. one more look at the pelicans...

   mike's cooked up some great chow: eggs (migas style), sausage, potatoes and the best fresh green salsa - thank you much, mike. time to bail and pete's preening away in the head, gotta get him in there earlier to get our wheels rolling on time (no disrespect to pete). I take us west on tx-225 onto the inner loop of houston (I-610) and around the north until we come onto us-290, the "scenic" road to austin. the weather is really nice again, sunny but no humidity. I hand the wheel over to pete in ..., then konk on the back seat (the early pop has its toll on me). pete gets us into the lot downtown at stubb's around three - we're playing here inside tonight while before us on the outside stage is going to be ozomatli. I've known these cats for a long time, a great band. my guys disappear (to me they disappear, I find out later they just went into one of the rooms and konked. I gotta move the boat though cuz of the gig coming up so I unload it myself. gigboss chris helps me w/the organ but everything else I can get myself. it's trippy, once before at this pad I unloaded us myself too. anyway, I move the boat to a place chris tells me is for us - a meter w/a "reserved" bag over - alright, much respect! not to sound whiney but I wish more pads you play who have no thoughts about where an out of town band is gonna put their boat would kind of think about this. hope I don't sound like a princess about that. I do find wifi and get this in an email from ceej:

    remain silent, and you sink into a realm of shadows;
   speak, and you fall into a deep pit.

    try, and you're as far away as sky from earth; give
   up, and you'll never attain.

    enormous waves go on and on, foaming breakers flood
   the skies who's got the bright pearl that calms the
   oceans?

               - i-ch'ing

good to ponder on as is this, from a good friend of me and raymond's, bob stires:

   >
   >
   > From: "Robert Julian"
   > Subject: Fwd: washingtonpost.com: Latest Conspiracy
   > Theory -- Kerry Won -- Hits the Ether
   > Date: Thu, 11 Nov 2004 13:27:53 -0800
   >
   > R.J. Stires forwards a letter from a sage he met @
   > Laguna Beach Toastmasters....
   >
   > Hi,
   > This article was in the Washington Post this
   > morning.....sort of washes out all the conspiracy
   > theories we've been privy to on the internet. I think
   > we should just live with the reality of this
   > dictatorship and be a light onto ourselves...we are the
   > light in this darkness, but if we get sucked up in all
   > the justified rage we'll no longer shine but be one of
   > "them". I firmly believe that this administration will
   > implode one day ...you know how the universe is....when
   > you get too cocky for too long, in time, the universe
   > delivers a hard blow. The law of karma is very strict.
   > Right now some lessons are being learned the hard way.
   > Maybe we've been too cocky about our "superior"
   > intelligence and evolved wisdom. Don't fret, pretty
   > soon, it'll be THEIR turn! Our world has to turn upside
   > down to let go of all the crap in our pockets we've been
   > hanging on to. Like it or not....Bush is just a stark
   > reflection of a part of ourselves...otherwise he and
   > they would not be in office and would not be part of
   > our reality.
   >
   > End of lecture.
   > Have a wonderful day today and tomorrow and forever!
   >
   > Love, Yamini
   >
   > http://www.washingtonpost.com/ac2/wp-dyn/A41106-2004Nov10?
   >
   >

   if this didn't strike some kind of chord within me, then I wouldn't of put in this diary here especially w/all what's been happening outside of trying to work the piece as good as I can w/pete and raul. a cat who's been coming to my gigs for years, a good man named cary shows up w/a flannel for me - so trippy I was just chimping tour diary about what I like in a flannel, that's wild. I did forget one thing though - to have at least a little bit of white in the plaid so you can look righteous if there's a black light going in the room. well, cary's gift flannel has just that w/blue. I dig it much - thank you, cary. good catching up w/him too, I'll see him later at the gig. since it's stubb's, why not some q? I chow some pork ribs w/black eyed peas and collared greens. I rap w/uli and will-dog from the ozomatli crew, great to see them again - they've always been great hermanos to me and what a wild band too - much respect. they do an interview w/this cat named ron about a saint louis fixture named beatle bob, a cat who dances w/abandon at gigs - he goes to so many gigs, been to a lot of mine so after uli and will-dog are done, I get my turn to talk about him. I praise his courage to be who he is and not being afraid of being an individual. I missed him at my last saint louis gig but I think he was out of town. hell, I've had him introduce me to start the gig even. it was weird but for the first time I met what you might call "beatle bob haters" this tour and that tripped me out. not w/me, I dig him coming when I play and letting his freak flag fly - it's never given me any trouble and is in fact, inspiring. watching him shake the haircut he has (hence the name) and that dance that's all his (no matter what the music, it's always the same!), it ups my confidence level. alright, beatle bob! we do a soundcheck w/soundman dave and then I hit the boat for some much-needed konk. right before though, I call spot to let him know we want him on stage for the encores. he says he'll be there. right on!

   I'm plunged into konk and awake when summoned by pete w/a cup of tea at the boat's hatch. the ozomatli outside gig now done, it's our turn. we had no one on our stage before us, that's trippy. the angle I'm playing at, I'm mostly looking at this painting on the wall of a pregnant lady w/the biggest curlers in her hair, intense... I try to keep my eyes on pete. we do good though once again a little bit of trouble w/"burstedman" - hmm... I wonder why? sometime you get caught up the same way w/something like this - it's not incompetence, more a focus thing. overall we do pretty good though the monitors were pretty piddly, damn - hard to know what you're doing or how you're doing. I did have some crisis stuff kind of w/the confidence part of what I do to make a gig, got self-conscious some. it was weird, like it'd come and go... I had to fight myself from shirking but ended up ok. the crowd's great, giving much support - much respect to them. we do every song we know, having spot come aboard for the b.o.c., dylan and minutemen ones. he worked is "fidola" like a champ. chris from thong gives me a drawing he made in the moment and titled it "watt emerging from purgatory" - really neat, thank you. my old friend doug rockett couldn't make it but his buddy gives me nick tosche's "the devil and sonny liston" book, yeah! lots of folks who work here at stubb's pay respects - much respect to them as w/all the folks w/their own words of kindness and support. people ask me how I tour like I do and that's a big reason, giving back to those who are so generous to give unto me and my guys. wendy wadd - this lady was fist-pumping the air the whole gig, what fire in her - last time I was here, she asked what's rock and roll's mission and I told her, "to blow minds" and she dug that. she said lux interior told her, "to not die" - I think that's a good one.

   we pack the gear up and follow the directs spot gave us to his pad. he's waiting for us and has the pad ready. we see the celica he used w/us a few tours ago - it's retired cuz he has a corolla now he got econo... spot's way into working on his own cars and got a few projects going. me and pete lay our sack's out on his deck (spot has a very zen living room) and talk w/him some, great being w/an old buddy again. then it's time for konk so I do.





friday, november 12, 2004 - dallas, tx


from raul:

   Leave spots' with him groaning on the can, total paint peeler, mike said he knew the routine, and he'd be awhile. A little traffic getting out of austin, but nothing to bad, i've seen it so much worse. Spent the time in the van sleeping, and when i was awake, reading sand pebbles. Got us to the club without a problem. It wouldn't be open for another hour or two, so i went and grabbed some coffee, and took abunch of random photos around town. Playing in a part of town called deep ellum, supposed to be the cultured part of town, whatever that means, and at one point in time probably was, it just looks like a bunch of bars and tattoo shops to me. In all the windows, every fuckin' ten feet, there were these signs, the rules of deep elllum. Don't give panhandlers money, food, don't let the homeless wash your windows, only give money to the parking attendant watching your car, he's a professional, don't look em' in the eye, don't acknowledge their existence, pretend their not there, don't let the homeless bum out your night of drinking in deep ellum, i couldn't believe this shit, it's fucked. I'm sure at one point, like any other trendy place, this was the poor part of town, now folks are being shunned because they're not able to afford a over priced micro brew in your shitty dive bar, fuck you deep ellum, i made it a point to give some change to any person who asked... the rules of deep ellum... whatever.

   After the sound check i decide to head for the downtown, the opposite direction of the deep. Had a good walk, reminded me of downtown l.a. It was nice to get out, and not be surrounded by people, just the city, i could sing real loud to myself, and no one was around to hear. My dumb ass walked right past the book depository building, and didn't realize it till after the fact, i'd seen it before, but only while getting on the interstate. I still had some time to kill, so on my walk back i passed the club, and went in the deep end. I found a good spot to sit, and people watch. I probably looked like one of the dreaded homeless, hooded sweatshirt, rollin' my own smokes, sittin' alone, on my way nowhere. I'm sitting around smokin', trying to look unapproachable, and two collage girls come up and ask me what i'm doing, havin' a smoke i tell em', kinda dry, i thought maybe they were christians trying to steer me away from the dark side. We started talking, about the small towns we're from, and what we do there, and it came out that i was playin' down the street, then we started talking about tour, they couldn't believe the idea of that, they asked me if i was famous, what do you mean by that i say, they couldn't give me a straight answer, so i assured them that i was by no means a celebrity. It's weird peoples different perceptions of fame, is there even such a thing? They wanted to know how i got my big break and was able to do this, suckin' off the right people i tell them, just kidding, there's no such thing as a big break, and your able to do anything thing you want, within the means ofcourse, ya know, but you can have a band and play gigs, hell it seems like everybody does, but i also put myself right in the middle of the mix, so i forget that alot of people don't. I asked them if they played music, by then another friend of theirs had come over, he played the bass, one girl played guitar, the other saxophone, there's your band right there, now all you need is a drummer... do you wanna play they asked. Before i got up to go back, i had to ask why they came up to me to talk, we were bored they said, and you looked lonely, so much for unapproachable.

   Make it back in time to see the first band, record hop. Original sounding tunes, with ted falconi style guitar riffage... flipper? Good stuff. The second band was called detachment kit, they're from brooklyn, via a few other places, seems like everyone is moving to brooklyn. They kinda sounded like they were from the northwest, five years ago, i liked em'. Singer was in the crowd causing havoc most the time, the guitar player wasn't wearing any shoes... what's up with that. Our turn, nice and hot on stage, that's a plus for me, i like the heat whan i'm playing, it seems to loosen me up, and i get a good sweat going. Played pretty good, the bass amp was blasting me the first song, it was intense, but made me play alot harder just to hear myself. The crowd was real receptive, nice folks. While we were playing, i spot this little kid watching me from the side of the stage, i flash him a smile, and he gives me a peace sign, after the gig he came up and talked to me. His name was elliot, and he was just starting to play the drums, he already was playing guitar and piano, his mammy brought him to the gig, she also brought us some homemade salsa. Kid was cool, i spent a while talking with him, before he left i gave him a drum key, said he didn't know what it was for, but he was gonna for sure find out, told him the next time i came thru he better have a band for us to play with, just as soon as he finds some other kids willing to do it he said. Met some other cool folks, cody from el paso, who now lives in dallas, good kid, and was just psyched to have the night off work, told me he missed the last two gigs cuz his boss wouldn't let him off. Talked lovecraft and peni with another kid, turned me onto a book about the germans asking lovecraft to re write mein kmopf for the states, true story, and supposedly he even got started on it. Then there was jake, a tattoo artist who worked around the corner, he was bad, an he even offered to give pete and i free tattoos. I went twenty six years without tattoos, so i don't think i'll ever have one. When i was young i wanted em', and it was a money thing, now i have no desire, thanks anyway jake. After the gig, we went to an old friends of mikes', john lamburt, after a little chips and salsa, and a bit of conversation, i head for the shower, and after that, straight to sleep, gotta long haul to litte rock tomorrow.



from pete:

   woke up at spotto's and immediately went to do a hose off; after completing the three s's I rolled up the bag- rollie ran into the head to do a quick washy- I turn around and see spot looking like he's about to foam over- he obviously had a major evacuation coming up and couldn't wait much longer- I yelled out to rollie to hurry up as spot's mule was kicking at the barn door. rollie comes out and spot sprints into the head (literally in two steps), and the next moment I hear oohs, aahs, and various guttural sounds emanating from within so I know he had won the race. I could hear watt start the boat up and I yell out a quick "bye spot"! before running out the door. I hated to leave him hanging, but when the chief gives the signal it is . I hopped in and we were off once again. much love out to spotto for having us over once again (I also signed his kitchen cabinet once more).

   the trip to dallas wasn't too much of a long one but I knew I would have to take the helm again so I copped some z's in back until we stopped at a way' to chow. once again with the expert help of rollie we descended into the deep ellum section of dallas and scored a parking spot in front of th club (the gypsy tea room). I hoped this would be a better pad than the clearview (which we had played last tour), and was a fucking disco- very lame vibe in there. nobody was in the pad yet so I hoofed it down the street to do a little window shopping and hopefully score some coff' as I had a jones going. I walk down a few blocks and I notice a store called "condom sense", so naturally I had to walk in and check it out. woh, quite a selection of condoms, dildoes of every shape, girth, and length- leather s&m gear, edible thongs. nirvana for the perv in all of us. I smile at the lady at the counter who has a look on her face like she might be soon having a nervous breakdown. they also have a collection of glass pipes, water pipes and the like (for tobacco it says). not finding anything I was in urgent need of I continued on down the street until I found a coffee pad; rollie was just coming out and he continued onward on his own solo excursion (we pass by each other alot on our excursions). I went inside the coff' pad and scored myself a latte, then sat and read the local music rag to pass the time. It was getting close to load in time so I got up and started walking back to the club- I passed rollie once again as he took shots of the local graffitti and then went by the club to see if anyone was around. no-one in front but I went thru the back and found a cat to open up the front door. we loaded the stuff inside- the pad was really cool and i liked the vibe of it immediately- no disco bullshit. as we were loading in a cat named jake came over to say hi- he works at a tattoo shop around the corner and offered to buy us chow. hearing that he was a tattoo artist, I rapped ink w/ him for awhile and he offered to do a piece on me- I told him I would try to come by later and check out the place. very nice dude.

   we set up the tools and the soundman showed up after a while- his name was tommy, a real nice cat he was and he got us set up quick after which we ran thru the check'. broke things down after and went to go kick back in the band room, a very nice band room, with a wi-fi connect! the club had set us up w/ some really nice fruit , chips, and salsa (choc. chips and oreo's too- woo hoo!). I hooked up the puter' and did some disc cleanup and read my email. didn't feel much like chimping so I just surfed the internet and rested my head (ate a boat-load of baby carrots too). jon lambert, a cat that we had stayed w/ last tour showed up w/ his brother and we rapped w/ him for awhile. such a nice man. the first band, record hop' started up[ and I listened to em' for a bit- great stuff, a little pop, a little hardcore. they finish up and one of them comes in and asks me how I've been. it's john mcintyre, a cat whose pad we had stayed at first tour. we talked for awhile then he went to go pack up his gear. he had gotten married since I last saw him and he looked very happy. the second band came in and we rapped w/ them for awhile- really a sweet bunch of guys and we downed some jack' shots w/ em'. I continued surfing the net till' they finished their set then went to do my duties. the chief however, was already awake and had come into the band room so I just handed him the tea (it was a little cold so I had to reheat it), and went to help rollie set up the machines. w/ everything in place we came out and waited for watt to get the baby bass going. he plugs everything in and no sound. stress rock for about ten minutes until he deduces that it's a bad cord causing the grief. we get another one from the soundman and we're back in business. we plow into the set w/ much fervor- the organ is wailing in the beginning but after three or four tunes, tommy gets a handle on things and it's smooth sailing thereafter. the crowd is very responsive and digs on us much- we get many nice compliments from the peeps and it makes me feel really good. I rap for awhile in the band room with jake, the tattoo artist (he also plays bass), and he offers to do a piece on me after the gig (at like two in the morning). I thank him for his kindness and assure him that I'll look him up next time we're in town. much respect jake.

   we get the gear loaded into the boat and we're ready to follow jon back to his pad but no jon. I knock on the door of the club and it turns out he's inside and has been waiting for us. he comes out and leads us to his pad which is about a twenty minute drive down the interstate. we settle in and I make some tea for watt and myself and we rap w/ jon about music and politics until the eyelids start to get heavy. I roll out my bag on one of jon's couches and am out in a flash. laku noc sviraci.....



from watt:

   pop at eight bells and go get some coff at a little store cuz spot told me last night his coff machine hadn't been used or cleaned in a while so I figure I wouldn't chance it. hey, pumpkin pie kind again! I get back to hear the pad still silent except for the enormous sucking-the-paint-off-the-wall tiny little snores sports been generous to share w/us. I have no prob w/it, probably supplement it w/my own version though I know it would chew on jer when he was on drums and we were all touring together. maybe it's cuz I've done tons of tours and am just used to it. anyway, it's spot's pad - he can snore if he wants! doesn't seem to be bothering pete or raul either cuz they're still out cold. I dreamed I was watching the lower hold of a boat, it was rolling w/the sea and there were these huge rods, like three inch pipe but solid and they were rolling themselves w/the motion, from one bulkhead to the other. they started bumping into each other and they must've been of different length (oh yeah, must've been) cuz they were 'pert-near acting like wind chimes and making music. I swear I'd know the tunes (it'd change up to another one after a few minutes) but never could put my finger on it - damn, would that frustrate me. it was hard to tell where I was, how I was "experiencing" this all. it kind of seemed like a movie and I was disembodied. the sensory thing was strong on me though and not just w/sound cuz I could very much smell and even tast the sea water seeping some through the timbers. it was dark except for a lamp and it was way up near topsides w/light dumping down through a shaft, kind of scary shadows playing on the bulkheads from stuff swinging that was hanging. again, it was frustrating to know what it was cuz my mind wouldn't let it go and kept trying to guess at what it was. a long while of all of this and then suddenly - bam! - the rollers or whatever were me and pete in our sacks, doing the rolly-rolly on the deck! pete had a wild, even a scared look in his face and I realized why... we were both sealed up into our sacks up to our necks, like we were the carved tops of logs! even weirder were all these other "rollers" - they looked just like us but were obviously carved up cuz when my face would get near, I could see the cut lines and no change in the expressions - shit, I could see the coarse paintjobs only kind of approximating us. what was painful was us having our arms inside our sacks and w/the rolling around and striking the other "watt and pete totem poles" (this is kind of what they seemed like), there was nothing to guard the face and I took repeated blows. I could feel teeth chip and nose cartilage crunch, aaaarrggghhh - it was fucked. pete kept looking at me as to say, "what in THE FUCK is going on here?" but we were both wordless - why? I don't know. it was a bizarre dream. I lost track for a bit and then suddenly the whole boat world was gone and it's us in a bowling alley... us as pins being set up (no raul though, weird but then he konked in the back room where spot's got a bunch of auto parts) by the machines that do that and just waiting for the fucking ball to knock our shit out. mercifully I popped before that came around. it was good to see pete there in a quiet bliss, konking right through spot's sinus symphony.

   like yesterday at mike mcguire's la porte pad, pete's primping for quite a bit in the head and man, spot has to dump bad. pete finally emerges (seemed like years past by) and spot bolts for the head and right away we hear him groan some intense ones, we could just imagine him gripping the walls for leverage. it might be some time and we gotta get to dallas and avoid the traffic plug so we take leave w/out giving him the big time thanks he so much deserves for being the righteous man that he is. sorry, spot - we wanted to leave you w/your work in peace and not rush you. you'll always have a sure spot in my heart, brother. we jump into the plug which has been I-35 in austin now for years and crawl north, not really breaking free until pflugerville (love the name of that town!). a bit more and we find a 'way to sandwich up on - yet another tuna w/habaneros (damn, last ones - we had lots go to a "pudding state" w/them going bad). the weather is a heavy gray and there's some wind blowing but at least no rain. maybe forty miles south of waco, I fuel the boat up again and hand the helm over to pete and konk on the back bench, waking up as raul's navigating us to the deep ellum part of dallas, in the east part of town. raul's getting really good at his navigatore role, much respect to him. we're playing at the gypsy tea room and the folks there let us in to load early after landing a parking spot right out in front, thank you. there's a plaque by their hatch telling about blind lemon jefferson, the blues singer. there's some lyrics to one of his songs:

   just sittin' here wondering,
   will a matchbox hold my clothes
   I got so many matches, got so far to go

now that's inspirational - we owe the blues cats so much, truly. and this is a town where a president got killed, damn... weird, I just thought of that. anyway, here in the club, these peeps are very nice, bossman matt extends every courtesy... I have to say, 'pert-near this whole tour we've had such good treatment from the pads we've been working. in the boat after, we're always talking about how such and such were happening - so different than in the real old days when a rock club meant people working there didn't like punkers. I'm so grateful for the generousness, like w/the cats who come to see the gig. there can be wonderful things about being human, us treating each other kind. we do a soundcheck w/soundman tommy and then chow some salsa we've been given - it's kind of tame so we hike it up w/some of that "da bomb" chemical stuff... it's really the only way we can use it cuz it's got no flavor on it's own. john, a cat we stayed w/in denton (a little north of here) before drums for the opening band (they're called record hop) and it's good to see him again. he's an intense stickman, good unique style w/personality. I meet the cats in the other opening band too, a brooklyn one called the detachment kit. nice guys, they're working their way east as we go west. I then go to the boat and konk (lots of times I don't chow dinner).

   pete comes w/the tea to get me just before midnight but I've been up for an hour and chimping diary. I did get a good three hours of konk in though. I talk to one of the detachment kit guitarists and he says it was a tough gig for him. I tell him I know what he means, I get those kind of gigs too and he asks me what I do about it so I tell him I just plow and the kvetch about it later - better than kvetching in the moment. him talking to about this though inspires me for tonight - lots of times us guys in bands don't spiel to each other about that, I don't know why. I'm talking about w/cats in other band cuz w/us secondmen, we talk about that lots cuz my men are very open w/me, no fronts or 'tudes - they're the best. anyway, I'm sure glad this young man gave me the unintentional pep talk cuz I needed it - right away before we start, the cable from my amp to the pedal board is ruined and that takes a few minutes to figure out. better then than half way through the piece so I should be grateful (I am). someone donates me a good cable and we're underway. wow, the organ is really loud and shrill on stage - oh my god. sometimes the acoustics of the situation will bring that out - it's not pete's doing. then my watch flies off in "puked to high heaven" and that shakes my confidence some - I always play w/a watch on, it's kind of a security blanket (along w/all kinds of totems I embrace). I don't want to stop the piece so I soldier on. sounds like a gate is on the mic pretty heavy but maybe that's cuz tommy has to deal w/mixing us and how the sounds are going - you gotta trust your knobman - we're just motor and he's the tranny, getting power to the wheels (the gig-goers). raul's kick drum is slipping and he keeps turning more and more towards the front of the stage, like the way you see most drummers set up. I like him on an intense angle, looking right at me, pete at his port elbow. that way I got both my guys right in my face so I can be more secure. I think we do the piece good and when the people have us back for more, pete does a great take on the dylan tune. it's funny, when we came back and I said, "I told you it was a weird, long song" some guy asks, "what's song number two, mike?" that was genius, I never thought of that - the b.o.c. tune is actually the second song of our set! thank you much, observant and astute intelligent man of dallas! no verde or roky tonight cuz it's really late but I liked the gig, even w/some little clams I blew (ooh, some sour ones in one of my "pissbags..." solos - ouch). much kindness from the folks while I sling - one man tells me it's the eighteenth time he's seen me, damn! there's a young man seeing me I think for the first time too - he's nine years old and is named elliot, what a righteous little guy. a trip to find out he plays lots of instruments too, whoa. we load up and I talk w/the bouncer men, a big cat named mike who's really into hank rollins. he's a nice man and has some interesting stories. these folks working these pads who dig you coming to work their pad, this is a blessing.

   we're all packed up and waiting for john lambert, a dallas gig-goer who's had me aboard many time to konk but he's nowhere to be seen. I just can imagine him sitting in the club while we're out here sitting in the boat - I send raul out to check on that suspicion and yep, turns out I was right. who knows how long each of us would've been sitting where we were, waiting for the other one to show up? we follow john up to his pad in the north of dallas (his brother is w/him, I think it's his first watt gig) and it's good to dock the boat cuz I am way beat up w/wearyness. I'm in my skivvies, w/ear plugs and mask on my head but not yet down when I have some wine (a glass of this before I konk is good for my heart so I do that when it's available), we talk some about the current sitch cuz john's always on the awares about politicalness. he's got some good points. I suggest something though that I've been thinking of. we gotta find new ways about talking about these things. I think the old concepts and for fucking sure, the old labels hurt and cloud things up big time. I think people are actually getting manipulated by this shit and no wonder people feel like were splitting into two kinds, it's the language demanding that of us. like wittgenstein said: cuz of word games, you can't know anything, you can only believe. of course there's probably those who dig this, them fancying themselves puppetmasters or whatever. pricks. we gotta get creative and break new ground, find what's inside that's important. "a word war will set off the keg" I wrote in a minutemen tune long ago... time for konk, I'm weary and head for my sack, my little spiel finished.





saturday, november 13, 2004 - little rock, ar


from raul:

   Woke up to john and his wife making us a big ol' breakfast, biscuits and gravy, potatoes and eggs, and various meats for the carnivores, thanks john, good fuel to start off the day. We were planning on getting out by ten, but it was a bit closer to noon by the time we got done eating and were ready to go. Spent most the time up to little rock reading sand pebbles, and gettin' some diary done, pete took over the controls the last hour, and i navigated us to the club without a hitch. Playing at a place called vino's, i've been here before, on the first killer dreamer, we played down the street, at a place called blank generation, the lady who owned the store took us here for some pizza after the gig. It was kinda good that we didn't leave johns' to early, not an excessive amount of down time. Like i said, vino's is a pizza joint, and the clubs in back, so it's open and we can load right in. We're set up before the sound guy even gets there, a couple of the guys from the first two bands are hangin' around, so we shoot the shit with them, marcus and i even had some friends in common, while i'm waitin' for the dude to mic me up i get some chimpin' done. We get all done up, and blaze through our check, the sound guy asked us to play twenty seconds of a song, so of course we play the red and the black in it's entirety, smart asses. After sound check i roam, and go to blank generation, i wanted to see if it was still there, i remember the owner saying she was having trouble making rent. It was still open, and a punk show was about to go down, good, it would suck for the little rockers to lose this place, it's seems like the only place in town for the kids to do shows, vinos' is all ages, but it's seems more for the older crowd. I remember comin' here when i was seventeen, we played a show right on the Mississippi river, that was badass, total imagination on the punks part, my first illegal generator show, it was a trip to me, these people just plug in a generator and make a show were you'd never imagine. It was gettin' pretty chilly, and the zipper on my coat busted, so i decided to head back to the club.

   Made it back in time to check out lochness, spent most the time playin' dr. dude pinball during their set with a girl named christina. The machine was kinda jacked up, but it was only a quarter a game, so what the hell. Il libertina was after them, another band from little rock, they were real poppy, reminded me of squeeze a little. Short songs that never seemed to go back to the beginning. Our turn to go up, i thought it was gonnna be a cave, but all the folks came to the front and it packed up real nice. People were real into the tunes. We played a decent, the only problem was mikes bass amp lost power a few times, luckily it was during breaks in the songs, it made it so no matter how long it took to fix it, we could come back to the next part with out a problem. While we were playing, there were these three kids up front totally into it, doin' the twitch, jumpin' around, it was awesome, cuz some of the songs are real danceable, there just different rhythms than people are used to dancing to at shows, so it kinda throws em' off, these three had no problem with it though, it was fun just to watch people enjoy it so much. It's cool to see open minded young punk rockers, it seems now a days, a lot of kids are into the genre rock, and they stick themselves in this hole were they only like bands who sound like all the other bands they listen to. Why not just listen to one record all the time, it'd save money, and make it easier to define yourself. I guess i kinda lucked out, i got into music from my folks and my sisters at a real young age. All sorts of different stuff too, my mom was real big on the pretenders, she even took me to see the go go's, i mean, she also liked journey, but i can't hold that against her, cuz it was with her that i first heard the clash. her boy friend was into neil young, and credence, total rock, looking at johnny winter on his album covers used to scare me. My sisters were totally into hip hop, and they'd bump k-day, the old l.a hip hop station all day long. Like all little dudes in the eighties not old enough to know punk yet, i loved metal, i used to have a long rat tail, and wear my cousins hand me down sleeveless tour shirts. It was him that got me into punk rock. When he wasn't at home, and i be at my aunts, i'd sneak in his room and play albums, and the one that stuck out the most, was a chaos u.k. record, short, sharp, shocks, the cover was a photo of a bobby with his hand jabbing some guy in the neck, and i think the first song was "kill your baby", just the guy screamin' it before the song even started was enough to grab me, man i was young, second grade, but that shit was intense, and hilarious. Maybe it was the violent imagery on the cover, and the words kill and baby in the same sentence that got me at first, i mean i was little, so any thing bad was good, i used to love the satanic stuff too, my first l.p was number of the beast, i used to stare at that cover forever. The first punk seven inch i ever heard was adrenaline o.d, but now that i think about it they were kinda cross over, i remember being into the speed of the songs, i'd never heard anything that fast, total mind melt for a little kid, just wish i would've got into making the music earlier, i didn't get my bass till seventh grade, and by then i was into all kinds of weird shit, started smokin' mota, and doing paper, so i was in my first psychedelic phase, my friends and i used to drive to china town in l.a to see punk gigs at the hong kong, and we'd be sittin' in a Volkswagen gettin' stoned listening to the dead syd barret and the pink floyd, what's that all about, we were punk rockers, we could like whatever we wanted, what we didn't like was the skinhead goons wanting to annihilate everyone, very closed minded, that wasn't what it was all about to me, ya know just liking one thing, and being such a specific person, i've never had a mohawk, i think i'm gonna wait till i'm forty. Anyway, these kids up front were cool, i met em' after the gig and we talked about all kinds of different music, we talked about alan vega and suicide, they were into mudhoney, dylan, one of the kids, ben, even had a richard hell t shirt on. These guys drove two hours to see the gig, they told me that they really didn't have shows in the town they lived in, they had fairs were dinosaurs like foghat played... so whoever says small town people are closed minded or backwards can stuff it, you can find those people everywhere, and i've met the most closed minded backwards folks in the biggest cities.

   After the gig we drove a half hour north to conway, it's on the way to o.k city,and right next to the interstate, so no back trackin'. Staying with a kid named david we met at the show. The roommates were getting ready for a vandalism mission when we showed up, one dude had made a life size stencil of two guys humping, they asked if i wanted to go, told em' thanks but no thanks, i got eight more gigs to do, and it'd be kinda tough to do em' from a jail cell in conway arkansas, maybe next time. I was feeling energized from the show for a while, but when that wore off i had no reserves, and i needed to get some sleep. They had an extra bed room with three beds in it, pete and i crashed in there, and mike took the couch.



from pete:

   woke up at jon's pad and went to do a quick face-splash; jon's wife was cooking us up some very kind chow- eggs, biscuits, sausage, gravy- a great way to start off the morning. we mowed into this huge feast w/ extreme prejudice and I felt much better afterwards. we got our stuff into the boat and off we were once again... much respect to john and Mrs. L for having us over once again. very kind peeps to say the least.

   we had a bit of a hellride to little rock so i copped some z's in the back again as I would have to man the helm for the last part of the trip. after I awoke and a quick fuel stop I once again took the helm- it was smooth sailing the whole way and when we were about thirty miles out I was again guided in by il navigatore rollie who was gaining a great grasp on this navigational thing. I flipped a u-ey and we scored a spot right in front of the club(vino's) I immediately hopped out and pulled some basura duty; the boat was getting ripe from all the shit in there- I actually found a bag of fruit and chips from about six weeks ago! damn! pruno rock g...

   having completed my unsavory but necessary task, I turned to the new shirt boxes we divvied the shirts up into separate bags and organized the back of the boat a little bit. after finishing this bit of business we loaded the gear up inside and set it all up on the stage. the soundman had not yet arrived so i kicked back while rollie got thru his chimp session. after about an hour the soundman, lee arrived and got us all set up. we then went thru the check' and everything sounded decent, so we went to the front of the club which was actually a pizza joint and ordered up some chow. after our feast watt retired to the confines of the boat while I kicked it and went into my own deep chimp mode.

   finished up the chimp and watched rollie play pinball w/ a young lady but I couldn't really tell who was winning- maybe both? the first band, "loch ness monster" came on and I checked em out for awhile- hardcore, and the singer was trying his damndest to win the crowd over but they were having none of it. gotta admire his cojones tho'. the second band, "il libertina" caame up for their set and they seemed to be more popular w/ the crowd; they were a little more on the pop side but still had an intensity to them. the volume was ringing my ears so I went to the front of the restaurant to kick back until they were finished. this time came soon and I went to pull the pre-gig duties. went back inside and waited for the chief to show. me and rollie shared our customary pre-gig choke until the boss made his entrance- then we launched immediately into the piece. we played w/ much fire; the monitors were a little poco on the gain but we soldiered on thru. the crowd seemed to really dig on it- there were a lot of kids in the audience and it was cool to be able to blow their minds for an hour. or inspire them to create their own mind-blow.

   we packed up the gear and got it all into the boat w/ the help of some of the cats we were crashing with- I only remember the name of one of them, dave, (no disrespect to the others), and we followed them to their pad which was in conway (about a half hour drive). we got in and rolled out the bags- watt and rollie rapped w/ dave and the other cats but I was feeling beat and rolled into my bag after drinking some tea and slowly drifted into suenoville. buona notte musicanti....



from watt:

   pop at seven bells and hose off. I had a dream where I was at a desk and folks were coming up to me for information. every single question though was stuff I had no idea how to answer, actually I couldn't parse their words to understand what was it they were asking and I was very befuddled. it was so confusing that I can't relate it back now even. all I know is there were angry and disappointed, like "why can't they put someone on the job here who knows what the fuck they're doing?" the face language they were giving me spoke volumes to that... aahh, I felt like the world's biggest idiot. there were all kinds of books stacked up next to me on the deck and I would go through them, trying to find stuff to help me for the next one in line. what'd happen though is that I'd get all caught up in some esoterica that had obviously no value except to feed my own curiosity - when I'd fail to make sense of what they were asking, I'd tell them what I was just reading - something on templars or whatever and they'd make an aboutface and storm right off. I could do nothing to make things right. after many of these failures, a boss came up to tell me right off. I felt like the lowliest of worms, I wanted to crawl right off and sink into a hole. I then found myself at the hugest telephone switchboard w/one of those headsets on me, like an operator would wear. I then was calling people up and trying to read from this script in front of me but I'd get hung up on every fucking time. the script was a recipe to make a pumpkin pie and it made me crazy to figure why wouldn't anyone want to know this "secret" (for some reason I thought this was an incredible pumpkin pie recipe that anyway would covet big time - I could even taste it in my mouth as I was trying to spiel it through to them). no one would yell or say anything to me, it'd just be a "click" - sometimes after just a word or two and other times I'd get 'pert-near the whole recipe out but never once did I get to finish. very VERY frustrated now, I got up and took the headset off and opened this hatch that led to the biggest pumpkin patch ever and one at a time, I'd bend down and rub my cheek on a pumpkin and feel it's smooth coolness. cuz of the bass, I don't have a lot of feeling in my fingertips due to calluses so when I want to feel things w/some sensitivity more than like feeling through a glove, I put it up to my face and rub it on either the top of my cheek or my upper lip. this was a very pleasant way to end what was a very fucked up thing. john gets up and makes me coff - he says he doesn't know how to make it right cuz he doesn't drink it but it's fine. he goes starts fixing things up for a morning chow, the rest of the household including my guys starting to wake up.

   I go out to the boat to find those same gray skies that were hear when we came into town yesterday but still there's no rain. we chow up scrambled eggs, biscuits john made himself, bacon and sausage. big thank yous to both him and sandy. pete's tripping on how much sandy looks like his mother-in-law. john's now got a granddaughter but she's hustled off by her ma to chow in another room. I think the little one was tripping on the three weird men from pedro. we got some ground to cover so it's much respect and bye to our generous hosts.

   I wheel the boat east onto I-30 after hitting it downtown. not much a route to get a look at dealy plaza but we get a quick view of a piece of the book depository building. that whole scene is so eerie, ugh. pete says all of it looks so small when you're actually walking around it - something joe baiza said when he was there. I try to take as many of my bands there as possible cuz there's something abstract in being actual w/the physical that is unique to experiencing it firsthand... a most real "surreal" or whatever. I always have a chord of sadness ring inside me, don't really know why cuz it's a feeling below words, like something from a dream I can't fathom. anyway, I haven't been on this freeway in a long time, through northeast texas. you know those things people put in their yards like pink flamingos or plastic deer? this one cat has stuff he's made for that purpose (for sale, most likely) but it's huge - like a giant marlin (fifteen feet hight), a giant sea horse, a giant baseball on a pedestal w/a bat - man, would this bogart up anyone's yard except maybe someone w/a farm or a ranch! there's blue giraffes and purple ostriches too. I have to say this is different, this cat must use giant molds or something. usually you see metal stuff that someone's welded up, like cowboy silhouettes and the like. I like looking out the window of the boat when we're driving and checking stuff out, keeps me alert. the closer we get to arkansas, the less gray the sky gets 'till at texarkana, it's all the way bright w/blue and sun. it's here where I hand pete the wheel for the last hundred and a half miles. while do the gas thing on the boat, I get a pimento and cheese sandwich - I get one of these every tour cuz they are so weird. I stuff them w/potato chips to texture them up. they don't have these in pedro. weird cheese too, like that velveeta shit that was around when I was a boy (maybe it's still around?) - definitely not a "real" cheese, more like an invented "food stuff" or whatever. trippy to taste once a tour though.

   raul guides pete in good to downtown little rock and we pull up front to vino's, the pad we're playing tonight. up front's a pizzeria and in the back is where the gig is. this looks really familiar... the drummer of one of tonight's openers (il libertina), a cat named marcus refreshes my memory by saying this used to be called dmz and I played here fifteen years ago w/fIREHOSE... glad to know I'm not completely nuts. marcus is cool people, into blues, jazz and all kinds of music - an interesting cat. the other opening act is another local band called loch ness and one of it's members comes in wheeling an amp - he's from scotland but has been here for fourteen years now after meeting someone from little rock on the island of crete. life is trippy. soundman lee shows up in a top hat, he's older than me. he's cool though and talks keyboards w/pete - said he once owned an old mellotron, I asked him how much did that wiegh! they had all these tape recorders inside them, the first "sampler" - by analog means! we do a quick soundcheck and then go up front to chow. me, raul and pete get a table - I don't chow much w/my guys except in the boat w/stuff from the 'way and when someone chows us at their pad in the morning cuz it gives us some space. you spend so much time w/your guys on a watt tour, us three is all we got. pete gets a ham/cheese sandwich while me and raul have calzones, I get a spinach and broccoli one. it's good - the crust is light like I dig but it reminds me of a wen so I enlighten raul to what that is. you'd be surprised how many folks are lacking in that knowledge! according the dictionary on my 'puter:

noun: a common cyst of the skin; filled with fatty matter (sebum) that is secreted by a sebaceous gland that has been blocked.

   >
   >    I'm still groanin'. been layin'
   > a transatlantic cable. thanks
   > for helpin' me forge it.
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