mike watt + the secondmen
"el mar cura todo" tour 2004 diary
week 7

thursday, october 28, 2004 - nyc, ny


from raul:

   Woke up on the floor at rays house, to the smell of ray cooking up some chow, i had an egg with a couple pieces of toast. The rear view mirror has completely busted of the side of the boat, so before we get on the interstate that's something we gotta take care of. After getting the run around, and driving around for an hour, mike has some success dealing with dickheads, and he gets a new mirror. Spent most the drive in the back chimpin' away, fell asleep for a minute, and woke up to pete and mike screaming about directions and traffic, we must be close. Ofcourse traffic is screwed, and we need to get on the east side of the east river, we end up taking a ghost bridge across, the Macomb's, we never did find it on the map, but we for sure used it to get across. Parking at the club is non existent, so we gotta park down the block around the corner, and load the gear across a busy intersection. We're a little late, on account of the mirror hunt, and some traffic, but we still have time to run through a quick check. Right after sound check, i meet Deanna and john, two really sweet people, john used to be a publicist for sst, and now he lives on the east coast, he's managing the band that's opening up tonight. It was kinda cool, Deanna just came up to me and introduced her self, told me she was making printouts of the diaries, and reading them while she road the train, and that she really enjoyed my entries, it's kinda trippin' me out that other folks read these, i don't even reread them, and now i'm starting to wonder how much nonsense is being put out there.

   After talking with these folks for a while, pete and i went for a walk and grabbed some mexican chow, it's a trip, twelve bucks for a burrito, at home i could feed the whole house burritos with less than that, but we are in manhattan, so there you go, eight dollar smokes, and twelve dollar burritos. When we get back to the club a young lady i had met at Maxwell's a week before was hangin' out front, janet, she was friends with little brazil, and had said she'd come by to say hi, on her way to a show across town, well, she did, and i was surprised, we ended talking out side the club for a few hours. The guys who run the club are pretty tight, they won't give us any money to eat, but they'll give us a case of beer, and i know why they're so eager to give us a case of beer, cuz they get the shit from their sponsors for free... cheapskates, i didn't get to check out the opening bands, like i said, i was out front for the first one, and down stairs keeping warm for the second. Twice so far i've dropped sticks cuz my hands where frozen, it would happen if i go from outside straight to the stage, i didn't wanna throw any sticks tonight, it such a dumb feeling, trying to keep the beat with one hand, while groping around for a stick with the other.

   The only problem i had with the whole show, was that the floor tom would not stop feeding back, it was this low rumble, that would just build and build, it was pretty over bearing, mike was asking me to put my hand on it to stop while i was in the middle of playing, i just had to laugh, i told him, as i'm playing that i only had two hands, his response, you can do it anyway, that sound sucked, but the situation was kinda funny, and he was right i could do it, i just had to play everything i play with two hands with one hand, my left one at that, it was pretty weird, other than that i thought it was rad, the place was a sell out, every body seemed real positive, and i had a ton of energy, the boys on the other hand won't say the same, i know they didn't like it as much, they weren't happy with the sound, neither was i really, but fuck it, i heard worse, and i didn't want anything to bring me down. These two guys i'd met a week earlier showed again, alex and kurt, this time bearing gifts, one of which, was a pumpkin that i put on top of petes keys... thanks dudes.

   After packing up the gear, mike went to get the boat, and sail it through the treacherous waters of manhattan, and try to find a spot in front of the club, it was pretty funny, walk to people screaming, you know who this is, it's fuckin' mike watt, now move your car up, yeah like this limo driver knows who watt is, hilarious, but he moved, and we got a pretty good spot in front of the club, it sure beats hoofing the gear across that busy ass street again. Staying at tinas place again, it rules, she treats us all like her little boys, takes real good care of us, and of course tonight is no different, she's been like our manhattan momma... love ya tina. Went to sleep within' the hour, sometimes you-don't really know how tired you actually are till you just stop for a second, then it comes on real quick. Spent a little while checkin out old photos of mike, pre minutemen days, he was kinda embarrassed of some, i totally understand why, but when you think about, being a goof is all a part of life, and so is latching on to styles, all that stuff molds you, i don't think there's to much to be said for being the same, at lets say fifty, as you were at fifteen, but then again, i'm only half way there, but i think i'm a lot different than i was at fifteen, and yes, some of the stuff i went through, an did, was done right embarrassing and stupid, but you learn from that, and figure out all new ways to be embarrassing and stupid... bye bye.



from pete:

   popped at ray's, did a quick wash up and went to munch a little; ray was cooking us up a very kind breakfast and I was ravenous so I plowed into the feast. he had some real kind hot sauce and I dabbed this on my eggs which gave them a very kind burn- really opened the sinuses g. we got our stuff together as we had to get a move on; manhattan was about a four hour drive but that shit never goes down like that so we had to give ourselves a little buffer. we also had to stop at an auto parts store as yesterday when we scored the parking spot at tt's there was some construction going on and watt had hit the shotgun side mirror on some scaffolding and it broke off (the boat is nearly impossible to navigate w/o that mirror). ray led us to a pad that he knew of about ten minutes away but they didn't have a suitable replacement. we continued onwards to another store that the previous cat had recommended that was near the freeway. well, the traffic started picking up and what should've been a fifteen minute ride turned into nearly an hour. we finally found the pad and the chief went in to see if they had the part. they did have the mirror but the cat at the counter felt compelled to give watt some lip for whatever reason. the mirror cost about fifty bucks but it was well worth it (can't drive blind on one side). we did the install right there, said our goodbyes to ray and were off towards new york once again. much respect to ray and sandy for having us over, they are truly cool peeps.

   I was sitting in the navigatore position so me and mike went over the freeway plan (which would likely change once we got into manhattan), to plot the trip in. we had a ways to go yet so I read my book on the making of coltrane's "a love supreme" for awhile but I soon drifted off. I was awakened by watt an undetermined later as he yelled out "where am I going sailor"? I snapped out of it right quick and pulled out the road atlas to see where we were. I got my bearings and directed him to the correct freeway and rested a while when we were on it. came to sort of a fork in the freeways, and we almost did a blow-by but we hit the right one and set full sail for manhattan. got into ny state and I pulled up the map on the ti book to try and lead us in; we had to get to FDR drive in order to get to manhattan so I had to quickly re-plot a route as watt did not want to get stuck in a plug(which seemed to be in the direction we were heading. we were running parallel to it so mike took a hard starboard onto a bridge (which I couldn't find on the ti book) to try and get to the FDR. we turned onto another street and I finally got my bearings but I couldn't tell whether it would get us to the FDR. we were cruising thru harlem and I found several streets on the ti book which were likely candidates but some of them were one way and useless to us. man, you think driving in LA is trying, try new york. it's a fucking madhouse and the drivers are very aggressive (especially the cabbies). people crossing the streets w/o paying attention to what's around them, cars weaving in and out of lanes w/ no signal, a fucking nightmare. we drove south on a side street until we found an on-ramp by complete accident, but at least we were on our way. we finally reached our destination about forty minutes later but we had to park about a block away from the club and roll the gear thru an intersection to load it in. we were playing at the mercury lounge; it was my third time there and I was excited about playing there again. dennis, the boss is way cool peeps and the sound is always good. we got all the gear in and set up and kev the soundman miked us up. we went thru "the red and the black" and everthing sounded pretty good so we broke down and me and rollie went down the street to score some chow. we found a little burrito pad called "manny's" and strapped on the feedbag; it was very good. hoofed it back to the club and talked to a bunch of cats that had come to our other NY shows; I was very glad that they had come again. I went downstairs to the band room to chimp a little and staten island john showed up once again (fifth show!). the opening bands started up and I listened to them and chimped away. rapped w/ john and rollie for awhile and finished up the chimpathon; terri and diana from WFMU showed up w/ some t-shirts for us and we rapped w/ them too. I heard the last band finish up and I went to make the tea. john went w/ me to rouse the chief and to grab the merch box. went back and helped rollie set up the tools, then waited for the chief to show. he ambled in, plugged in the baby bass and we steamrolled thru the piece. we played hard but the sound was a little off; there was a hum coming from the stage from the floor tom; I didn't notice it that much but it was bothering watt a lot. we plowed thru regardless and the peeps showed us much love; it was a good gig for me and I had a blast. even danny and mike from new jersey showed up! they told me that they had been on their own hellride and couldn't make it to the hoboken show- mike also told me that their iguana chub-chub had died. R.I.P g; mike and danny are way cool peeps and I was sorry I couldn't rap w/ em' longer. oh and crystal and rich showed up once again altho' they wouldn't let crystal in because she was under 21, very lame; they had invited us to a que' at their pad in brooklyn but we just couldn't swing the time. much respect for the invite guys, we'll catch you in brooklyn next time around. keep in touch rich.

   we loaded up the van w/ much help from several cats and we were off once again towards tina's pad. we got to the parking garage and once again garnered some attitude from the night shift there (they still let us in tho'). we hoofed it up to tina's pad and she had made some very kind lamb and couscous which I topped w/ some tunisian hot sauce and wolfed down (it was absolutely delicious, tina is quite the cook). we had a little red wine and burned a spliffy courtesy of staten island john (much respect g), and rapped for awhile. tina brought me over her friendly plastic cow (which induced much good vibes in me), and I conked out right quickly under the watchful eyes of the polyvinyl bovine. laku noc sviraci...



from watt:

   pop at seven and a half bells and then hose off. thought about my dream, a scary one where I was totally w/out sight and stumbling around. to make things really fucked, there was stuff all about just around knee high and striking me in my most weak parts ever when I'd bump into them, my knees. they really started falling apart in my teens and by my early twenties, I had surgeries on both of them. seems I was born w/the kneecaps too far to the outside and this fucked up the whole geometry of how they work and the stuff holding them together was stretched weak and they would dislocate. you can't imagine the pain (these things I'm writing here of my knees are fact and not part of the dream so it might be clearer to understand this intenseness on me), it'd send me way into such shock I would feel nothing anymore after a few seconds of one of them going out (there was this one time at the dairy cooler in the kitchen of the san pedro and peninsula hospital I worked in as a pot and pan boy when I was getting a tray of butters for the chow line and BOTH of them went out at the same time after hitting a cart that was - you guessed it - knee level... this memory comes up on me sometimes when I'm awake and I squirm and squirm 'till it some evaporates... I can't forget it ever, it is a pain so ingrained on me - a horror) and that's when I could put the kneecap back in place. this cat doctor mizaguchi cut on me and yanked them more inside (reattaching the ligaments further over on the patella) so they got tighter and they've only fell out twice since then. funny (what?!), both times were on stage during gigs. crimony, what a fucking beatdown. I went to family reunion thing once w/my pop and there were people from his ma's side (danish folks) that had it, some great uncles - the top of their shins stuck out like mine and their knees were massive and what you might called "kocked" or whatever. anyway, back to the dream: I was scared to move anywhere but I felt drawn to move, if only I could settle my nerves to sense where I was being pulled to. I could feel it like if there was a magnet and some iron fillings were in my head. if I was loose w/my neck, my head would turn but then I would start fretting on what might hit my knees and lose this "scent" (for lack of a better word). it was frustrating, a fucking hell. I felt a "door" out of this would come my way if I could only find a "path" out. I started making my legs stiff, like a goose-step (ugh) and taking really tiny steps. I thought of my first time outside by myself and walking after the illness, the tiniest geisha boy steps I had to use so my insides wouldn't fall out through the holes I had cut in me to clean me out - they were so deep and I had nothing really to keep the stuff melinda would pack into me (gauze to soak up pus) from falling out but keeping the gaps tight by keeping my legs close. in the dream, I figured (weird how that works, huh?) that if I did hit something, it would be sort of gentle and I'd be rigid enough not pop shit out. the main thing was to be patient and work slow. I had to relax too so I could allow the pull to take me where I could get free of all this. a weird was that I was very unsure of whether it was just dark or was I really blind and this bugged me too cuz why shouldn't I be aware of the truth of this, how could it be so beyond me? I felt like a real 'tard in a way, like it was me fucking up doing this and not just be a victim. there was a compelling thing in me to take some kind of responsibility for the whole dilemma like somehow I was couching it in terms for a shallow level of me to accept all this was being brought down on innocent watt but deep down I was convinced this was nothing but a lie to myself. this dilemma had moral components too, mixed in w/the physical pain ones - it was weird. in the dream I was sweating bullets but in lucid way I felt I could feel me also sweating bullets dreaming this dream... aaarrgghh, the duplicity. when you look at the sun and then look away, you can see spots of what the sun kind of looked like though polarized, white switching w/black over and over. I thought for a moment I saw the same thing - was it on the inside of my eyelids (were my eyes open or closed? I was confused) or in the dark. we're they my own eyes, reflecting somehow back? I let go of all thought and then concentrated superhard for one instant and just for a flash I saw color and knew they weren't mine cuz there was none of the peasant brown mine have. they were piercing too and not confused, not weary. I swooned and then became aware of falling and wanted to protect my legs so I kept them straight out as I keeled over. umph! idiot watt. I had hit my head on the deck and it was definitely cracked open. I thought and thought of what to do, wondering where I could find some tape of all things - like I could tape it up. I once thought this same thing when I was a boy (back to real life for a sec) building models and cut my hand open accidently w/an exacto knife, exposing all the muscles and shit - I could just tape it up. I dreaded so having to wake my ma up out of a dead sleep and having to tell her (I used to wake up before the crack of dawn then too)... in the dream: I felt around and couldn't feel any blood though. it was like me head was a coconut and all these thin things were in where my brain should be. this was much a trip and I felt really cold and still. then tears came hot and flooded my face and I felt a huge rush of feeling w/in me and I wrung it out in a single bodytremor. then, stillness. it was a while, all crying dried up and now I was feeling about w/my hands but not near my head. I found a book of matches - I knew it cuz I felt and tasted them, tasted the sulphur... weird, putting shit in my mouth like I was a baby. I lit the matches and saw the flame - it was darkness around me and I wasn't blind or had my eyes sewn/glued shut. the matches were burning bright and burning short - like an idiot, I lit the three that were all the book had but I felt compelled to see what these flat smooth things were that fell out of my head. I reached back and found they were pictures - photographs... and those eyes... then darkness again, my fingers fucking burning and wondering, eternal wondering.

   that dream unnerved me, jumbled me up. of course, being watt, I had to compensate by outwardly getting very together on the outside, in this woken up now. I scrubbed hard while I hosed down, down through many layers of skin, it felt like - made me red and raw. ray had put coff but the machine that makes it and I made a big pot of it up and gurgled the whole thing. we had to get that mirror for the boat, we can't drive blind. ray pops and makes us some eggs scrambled up w/cheese in them along w/bacon and toast - stuff I don't chow as much anymore (except on sundays, w/my ma and sisters) but it still tastes good and ray whupped up a good batch. he plays us a tape of his band beefy/dc doing a gig and we can hear how great he sings those tunes (ac/dc ones), buddy pete really happening on the angus guitar as well. he just started another one w/pete that has j mascis on drums and it's called lard zeppelin. whoa.

   time to get that mirror... ray takes us to a nearby auto parts pad but the man there says they have nothing so we're directed to a place by the mass pike which we have to take anyway. damn, it takes 'pert-near an hour cuz the traff is fucking plug-city! I got pete w/his head out the starboard window playing mirrorman big time. we get to this place and I tell the man what I need and he starts unloading some sourass 'tude on me heavy - even ray (being a bostonian and maybe used to it - though I don't think this is just a regional thing cuz I have confidence any member of the human race can stupe so low) is weirded out when I go w/him to get the broken-off mirror and he doesn't return w/me. I had just told the guy it was a third-party thing, in the days the boat was new it was the dealers who put on the mirrors and there were all kinds of stuff they used (they didn't come from the factory w/them). the guys "don't blame me, you were the asshole who bought it" and I gotta smile - I'm not giving in and giving the belig back... "you're a funny man, mister" - that's what I'm thinking inside my head along w/"all I need is to get this mirror and then I'm will get out of your hair" - not voicing a word of it, being calm and nice. he says they don't have this kind of stuff... I told him I was referred to come here by another store and he says, "that's what they tell you to get rid of you" which is hard for me to believe cuz the other man came running out to see if he could help and wouldn't he of just done that from the counter. wow, you would think there'd be a little more happiness since the sox made history but maybe something happened w/this guy just before I came in.a I see what I need right on the wall and just point there (there's a display of mirrors) but he's gotta "save face" (like in mckenna's "the sand pebbles") and won't go to that catalog it's in but I stay patient and just wait w/out showing grief or madness - I'm getting better w/this w/strangers... just gotta learn to more like it w/folks who are close! I'm trying though, really - maybe this all good training. finally he goes to the right catalog and then gets me the mirror. almost fifty bucks but it's worth it for me to have some peace of mind. safety for the boat is never an issue of econo w/me, I will pay any price. all of tour-world is rides on the boat, she is our ark. even w/that weird scene, I am happy - happy we got the mirror and happy I took whatever and didn't get sad or angry. maybe I looked or acted weird enough for that guy to have a laugh about it later, it's ok. I put the mirror on w/the wrenches I bought when I got this boat: twenty tours, fourteen years (last month) and 260,000 miles ago. big byes and thanks to ray - we go west on the mass pike, almost lost a toll both for a minute but back on course for nyc. I-84 southwest towards hartford in connecticut and then through all the "bury" towns - waterbury, southbury, middlebury and then danbury (where thurst grew up!) - it's beautiful wonderful weather again for us - our new england swing has really been special for us this way. I-684 into new york state, then I-287 'till just before the tappan zee bridge crosses the hudson (don't want to do that!) and south on I-87 - almost blowing it cuz of some confusing signs (don't the designers drive on the roads they make?!!) and we're south on the east river's east bank through yonkers, where the backdrop starts the change from trees to cement. just south of the cross-bronx express way (all this maneuvering is to avoid hellplugs of traff and so far we're lucky except for the plug to make for the george washington bridge), we get on this macombs bridge that pete never does find on either of our analog or digital resources! nonetheless, we're on manhattan and finding a way to get on f.d.r. drive. we find one at 135th street and though it's kind of slow, there's no lights and no stopping. even has a houston street offramp which is the road w/the pad we're playing tonight - our last of four nyc area gigs this tour (!!!), the mercury lounge. whew. always glad when we make where we're going safe - gald and grateful, I say a little something in gratitude inside... I dearly mean it.

   I find a place across the street (but on the same side of the club) and we roll the stuff over. parking dilemmas here too but we lucked out. soundcheck w/soundman kev and then I do two filmed spiels downstairs, one for chris, who's doing a walt mink documentary and one for a nice cat named mike who knows the poster children people (a band from champaign, il). both spiels are good springboards for me to flow some ideas I've been thinking about, kind of philosophical maybe though applied through what I'm doing, working the bass and such. some history too, mostly mine. they are kind w/me and let me flow. I changed my bass strings while doing the first one, that time of the week (I sound kind of female, huh? no offense). then I go to katz's a block away and get a chopped liver sandwich that I bring back to the boat and chow - they got trippy pickles that we have nothing similar in our town. this is the best chow I've had in these parts this tour, it's weird but I really dig it. I go to konk and at first am scared, a wave hits me like a sudden realization but the fatigue I've "invested" in w/the days activity overwhelms me and swallows me like a wraslin' mat and I konk mindlessly which kind of sounds lame but better than having fear stomp all over me, especially tonight.

   I miss both the opening bands, the other passengers and hopewell (my apologies) - pete gets me up from konk for gig time and I'm nervous - more nervous than usual, shaky so I plow to make myself move... I grab the little bass. missy and giby are near the hatch when I come in the merc, hugs. my lawyer rosemary is there - hugs, then again cuz it's been awhile. ok, gig time. get it together, watt. I plow hard and look at my guys much - it's that kind of gig for me. I want them close w/me so I won't be so afraid. aahhh, hate to complain but man, these monitors are sounding worse than last night and (the two miles of country road on the skivvies thing) which is weird cuz I've had great sound at this pad. damn. there's a huge ring on raul's floor tom too which gets so intense I just have to say something to soundman kev which is really fucked cuz I hate breaking the flow of the entire piece. well, I said it fast anyway. I really am trying my best and don't let the fear win over me, I kind of looked it down (not to sound like I got that much power or I'm some kind of badass - I just lucked-out maybe). it's weird, some thoughts - ones you hold so high in your mind, even in your spirit can at the same time maybe even intimidate you also - I don't understand how exactly it works except for the fact I know it's something that grabs me profoundly, shakes my very being. thank god, doing this piece, being here tonight - I got my guys... thank you so much, pete and raul. this sure ain't the brooklyn show but then it ain't the montreal one either. it's ok but as soon as I'm done I want to do it again better - silly watt - ok, I want to do tomorrow better... I'm gonna do my damndest! I tend to over-analyze too much, yep. the folks after the gig are full of the good word... yet again, john from staten island is here as is some other cats from the brooklyn and hoboken gigs - so much respect for you nice people... shoot, all these people. one guy named john who did promo for sst records like sixteen years ago says hi, whoa. after we play and people letting go of those good feelings like that can really put a warmness on you, making you forget the little things if it wasn't a total suckass of a gig (which then would make feel guiltier about getting their good will - aahh!).

   on the way the boat though - to bring it around so we can load it up, I get a big pound-down of sadness. I feel my insides drop or feel like they've been yanked down... I feel them collect in the bottom of my feet like puddles and it's 'pert-near overwhelming. I realize jimbo didn't come and neither did juan - not that that has anything to do w/it but those thoughts did just come then as I was going through this... weird. maybe I'm relieved even they we're here though I can't believe I would even chimp that here now cuz I love them and love seeing them. I'm all spun and fluttering weird in the head. I say stupid stuff, it comes out and I know if I asked someone about it they would say it has something to do w/being insecure... god, what a mess. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry... who wants to hear that when they come to see a gig, to see a friend - what kind of friend are you, watt? what kind of man are you? I remember years ago hr (bad brains singer) asking me downstairs at the old 930 club what kind of man was michael jackson - this was in the middle 80s. I don't why I thought of that now... I remember not knowing what to tell him. forget gender, what kind of person am I? thank god for the bass in my hand, what would I do w/out that - what am I w/out that? thank god for the momentum d. boon put in me, can't even think of anything w/out that. so, forget the what ifs and think about what I've done. I'm not sure, was it ridiculous and out of line? I am clumsy w/get things out of my head and over to others. aahh - the gig tonight, some thoughts of maybe starting out ok but not having it in me to lead my guys strong. I tried not to let myself dissipate but I think I wavered, hesitated - like going on a trip and being halfway where you're going to and thinking maybe you've left a pan w/water on the stove to boil... it must be all melting up now, maybe the pad's even been burned down. maybe I burned down other people's pads? I'm trying to relate something to these feelings, to make them live enough for words that can get read and be followed. I feel subdued.

   I have my guys w/me and that's a blessing, truly. we load the gear up - first this guy in a limo won't move but all these cats helping us help him understand - that's after she's asked him nice too. same thing w/the parking guy who's the same one that gave the impression he had enough of me last time - man, I hate being in people's hair... I just want the boat safe. tina talks w/him and he relents - thank you, sir. I'm not full enough to make much of a stand anyway and it's not just tiredness. I feel like an idiot, not about the gig though I could've done better there and I'm trying to tomorrow but w/words, maybe they were thoughts but then I tried to get them into words and it came out clumsy, fucked-up even. I don't know the boundary - no I know it but am fucked up w/it. I was trying to keep those things out of my thinking 'till this day but I know it was weighing on me and now I've crumbled. I have to apologize, have to take responsibility. we get to tina's (she's been so nice to us - fourth time now in two weeks - thank you, tina... she asks if we saw the lunar eclipse last night and though pete did, I was out konked - damn, they both said it was wild) and to be down for konk is more than I deserve but it makes it for a private way cuz my guys let me live w/it and I do need a show for them, I just gotta be there for them. I will. I gotta be there. those who need me will let me know how. gotta rally, watt... get it together.





friday, october 29, 2004 - philadelphia, pa


from raul:

   Woke up at tinas and jumped in the shower, after that had some juice and a can of black beans, tina showed me the new tea pot she got, oh very nice, then i remembered almost melting the old one last week... doh!... sorry tina. Not a hugh to philly, but we gotta bounce at ten, the parking lot almost didn't let us in at all, and he remembered mike from a week before, and said that he was doing us a favor, and that was a one time thing... a little sweet talking, and he let us stay under the pretense that we'd leave by ten. No problem getting to philly, just two stupid mistakes, the first being that we didn't go thru the right entrance at the jersey turn pike, and i had to run across five lanes of freeway traffic to get the ticket... scary. The other being me figuring out the perfect way to get there, and then realizing that we could of just went straight off the interstate... dumb ass, it only was like a minute detour, but i felt real smart taking us in a circle, but i swear the 'puter made it look like that was the best way to go, never trust a monkey. I haven't been to philly in atleast six years, and i didn't get to see to much, just the club, and the view out the window. Parking was a total nightmare, plus the street the clubs on, has their parking shut down at ten, so even if we could find a spot, we wouldn't be able to stay there anyway, shiver me timbers, that sucks, mike found a lot that would let the boat port a couple blocks away. We were there real early, the club was open, but the show wouldn't start for another nine hours, fuck it no time like the present, so i set up my drums, and stepped out for some food. Stacey, the promoter of the gig, gave me the cross streets of a good cheap veggie place, vegan philly cheese steaks, that's a pretty big contradiction... it would be more like philly soy cheese soy steaks. While searching for this place, i came across the liberty bell, i had to check it out, i mean how often do you get that chance. Man it was a hassle for me to get in there, not that the security was mean or anything, on the contrary the lady was real nice, but if you know me, you've seen my wrist are covered with all kinds of metal, and my belt, everything, and i did not wanna take all this stuff off, and my bag, that's a nightmare, who knows what's floating around that thing. I let the lady know that i'd been living out of it for the past month and a half, and i didn't know what weirdness she might find in there, she kinda looked at me funny, and ran it thru, no bombs, it reminded me of taking jet blue to oakland a couple weeks before killer dreamers last tour, the guy wanted to check the inside of my shoe, sure you can put your hand in my stinky rank shoe, who knows what it might feel like, i hadn't worn socks for a while, the look on his face was disturbing, he got swamp hand from my swamp foot, should've worn a glove dumbass. I remember they took my skate key, like i'm gonna dismantle the plane with that, the worst i could do would be loosen the captains trucks... i guess security can never be too careful... yes, that was sarcasm.

   Well after checking out a little piece of history, i finally found gianni's, i didn't try the vegan cheese steak as suggested, i had a hugh egg plant sandwich with some onion rings, oh it was grubbin', but not the cheapest, ten bills, i don't know, i'm not from philly so maybe that is cheap, but whatever, it was well worth it. The restaurant was a block away from a little trendy shopping strip, reminded me of being in the haight in frisco, lots of over priced garbage, for people to waste their money on, who i'm i to talk, i buy some random ass things, like the two little monster pencil toppers i bought in northampton, but those were only seventy five cents, and on top of that they look so goofy, not like spending two hundred bucks on a pair of jeans, doesn't matter anyways, people have different priorities i guess. It was the most random thing, i'm walking down the street, and i spot a familiar face, he kinda looks at me sideways, and i say citizen fish, yep it's the bass player of the sub hum anz, i forgot their on tour, so i remind him of his reggae band playin' a back yard party we had in pedro like eight years ago, it takes him a minute, but it all comes back, he was trippin', said it was one of the best chance meetings of his decade, after talking a bit, we exchanged our addresses, and went our separate ways... it's a wacky world, and it's only has space to get weirder. So within' the next few blocks, it gets even wackier. I notice this hugh tour bus in front of this theater, and all these hipster looking kids standing around it, wonder who's playing i thought, so i look up, and it's le tigre,, and the smaller letters underneath it spell out gravy train... holy shit, no fuckin' way, gravy train are some of my peeps from oaktown, and it'd be such a treat to get to see each other in philly. I didn't look for em' too hard, cuz i had to make it back to sound check, but i knew where they'd be for the night, and it was only a ten minute walk from where we're playing... hell ya.

   Showed back at the club at six sharp, only to find i was an hour early, oh well, i'll just bum around the block, till the sound guy shoes up. The sound already is ten times better then the mercury, so the fellas are happy about that, i have a good feeling about the gig tonight, i think it's gonna be real good, just a feeling. After the check, i head back over to the g train show, this time it's real easy to find em', right as i walk up, i see brontez walkin' in with a fry sticking outta his mouth, then heather walks out, and when she spots me, she starts screaming, so cool, what a nice reception, we do the hug thing, and she puts me on the list. I gotta go look for a music store, but i'll be back in a few... see ya then... no music store, but i did get a bitchin' pumpkin smoothie. It was so good to see everybody, i gave seth a big ol' hug and a kiss, and let brontez sit on my lap, he's such a perve. It was so much fun to hang with the girls and boys, i met kathleen hannah, she was real sweet, told me to tell mike that she loves him, and she wishes were all together. It was such a treat to get to see gravy train on tour, they killed it, so good, and folks were eatin it up, it's funny, they have these songs that people think are all dirty, but i know it's just about seths cat burger time... rip kitty. I got to watch the majority of there set, but i had to go back, so luckily, i'd said my good byes earlier in case i wouldn't see them after, plus there's a right time to make your exit, and i think i left at that time. On the walk back i hitched a ride with a tour group, it was real neat, this cloaked lady holding a lantern, taking people on a walking tour of the city to point out different historical sights, i got to see the print shop where thomas payne first had the revolutionary manifesto printed up, that's pretty cool... right. Made it back to the show just in time to see the perfectionists, they're the kids we're gonna be staying with tonight. Their band is pretty badass, their singer just took over the drummer duty, that's pretty rad, they're old drummer was givin' em' grief, so they just axed him, and became a three piece, grooved out bass lines, and really unmatching dissonant guitars, and a rudimentary drummer, that brought it all together perfectly, i guess about twenty three, twenty four ago, someone would've called this post punk, or maybe they just came off that way live, regardless, i liked em'. Didn't get to see to much of the northern liberties, by this time the club was packed tight, so i took off to go harness my chi before the gig. The only problem with tonights show, the last song, i almost think mike was slowing down on purpose just to keep me on my toes, we were so close, anyways it was a good show, real sweaty, with lots of energy, they even put an extra section on the stage so pete had more room, last time, he told me the backs of his boots were hangin' off the edge. Getting the gear was a hugh hassle, i can't even imagine what it was like for mike to drive the boat over, i'm sure it was a struggle, jockos everywhere, it was sick, there was almost a knife fight, right in the middle of the walk way that the equipment was going through. fuckin cops all around the boat, i felt so outta place, it was like a mini mardi grai, drunk frat boys and girls everywhere, but we finally made it out. Drove the busiest street, for atleast a half hour to get to the sleep center, and when we pull up the kids point out a garage for us to park in, no flippin' way, that things half the size of the boat, maybe we could cram it in there, yeah, but we'd have to go full speed. I'm pretty much out as soon as we get there, i set up a camp on the floor in the indoor porch, and feel asleep listening to the sound of the rain.



from pete:

   popped at tina's, did a quick wash up and some coff'; we had a short ride to philly but the chief wanted to get there early as the parking sitch was always a nightmare. I rolled up the ol' bag, said bye to my friend the plastic cow and we hoofed it over to the parking garage where we had docked the boat the night before. we threw the gear in and siad goodbye to tina, this time the last for awhile; much love to you tina for putting up w/ us so many times and for being truly nice.

   I immediately hit the bench seat and read the coltrane book and slept a little; the drive was short and we were in philly in about an hour and a half, but as always we had to park about a block away until we could score a spot near the club (the khyber once again). we found out much to our chagrin that the hombre closes the entire street on the west side after 10:00 PM, so we would have to unload and park the boat elsewhere. major lameness as this parking bullshit was a major nightmare for several gigs and the club owners never seem to take this into consideration. we found a spot a few doors up from the club and quickly got the gear in; sound check wasn't for another few hours so we just brought the gear in and put it next to the stage. I went into the bar and read the local music rag while watt went to go dock the boat at a suitable lot. I'm sitting there reading and who should walk in by CJ marsicano from the watt list; cj's very cool peeps and I'm glad to see him again- he's even brought us some dines' and fresh habi's form his garden along w/ three kinds of hot sauce. he tells me "happy belated birthday" and hands me a book for a present. it's "blinded by the right" by david brock, a tome I really wanted to read. much respect cj. I rap w/ him for awhile then go next door to get a chix cheesesteak sammy which I douse w/ a liberal amount of hot sauce. very kind. I go upstairs to get some chimp time in and do my email as I latch onto a wi-fi signal from somewhere's. three cats from the first opening band come in- eric, joel, and matt, and me and watt rap w/ them for awhile. they're really nice cats and offer us their pad to crash at for the night, and we rap a while longer then all head downstairs as soundcheck is nigh. we set up the gear on the stage and brandon the knobsman mikes everything up. we run thru the check and everything sounds pretty cool so I go back up to the band room to chimp and finish up my email. I read an email from my mom and of course she's worried about me but says everthing is cool on the homefront. she also tells me that they're re-stuccoing their house and that my old man is pissed that I'm not helping him. his exact words were, "he's out fucking around instead of helping me" (just when I think the acceptance is starting to seep in, the old croatian vibe rears it's cynical head). well like I always tell my dad, "at least you're consistent in your nagging". in all seriousness, I wouldn't be where I was now if it weren't for him and my ma so I have to cut him some slack. I'll help you when I get back OK? love ya pops, I really do.

   I finish up the chimp and go downstairs to check out the first band, the perfections' and who do I see but danny and mike from new jersey and staten island john (gig #6 jesus h. christ!-a true fan ). we rap for awhile and go check out the band; they are way intense and I'm really into them, they kind of remind me of the pop group. some cat in the back keeps yelling out "you suck!" and similar such comments which totally unnerve me; brandon the soundman much to his credit tells the guy to shut up and get the fuck out if he's going to be rude and even offered to refund his bones. good. cats like this should stay home and watch tv. alone. the second band comes up; they're called the "northern libertines" and man, if you get a chance to check em out', please do so. bass, drums and a percussionist/singer. very intense and one of the best bands in philly right now.

    the libertines finish up and I go to rouse the chief and bring him the tea, then haul the merch box back to the club. mw and rollie set up the tools and wait for the man to show up; he soon ambles in and we go into the piece w/ much intensity. we are all very on and the peeps are digging on it. I'm having a blast in comparison to my last gig at the khyber, but I'm also more focused on this tour than the previous one. we come out for the encore and dig in even more and the folks are digging it big time. we finish up and watt does the merch while me and rollie talk to a whole cadre of cool peeps who offer us many encouraging comments. much respect. we break the gear down and w/ the help of staen island john, danny, and mike, we get the gear loaded in quickly. downtown philly is a cluster fuck of borrachos and hombre as it's saturday nite and we want to get the fuck out of dodge ASAP. we wqait for the perfections' cats to finish loading their gear then follow them back to their pad. they tell us to park in their garage but it's obvious after some eyeballing that this dig won't hunt. we pull a compromise by parking the boat diagonally next to the garage and we grab our gear and go to settle in. we rap w/ the perfections' cats for awhile , then sueno begins to hit me and I crawl in the bag. I hear the loud crashing of thunder and lightning and I conk to the splatter of a downpour. buona notte musicanti...



from watt:

   pop at eight bells and hose off... I didn't mention the last night's hair stuff but I had my hands all in them before konking and this led somehow to how a younger watt had is so I showed a shot of me at fifteen - fucking ridiculous (but like it ain't now?!). the thing is that in these days, cuz of my worsening madness (or whatever you call it), I get compulsive behavior to yank at my hair that's very much promoted when it's longer. it's getting like that now - I usually have my sister cut every month and I've been away from pedro longer than that. this is as bad or as worse as the "color" issue for me, I hate both the silliness of me trying to hide my age this way (though I am totally silly anyway) and the almost tourette-like tick of yanking the fuck out of my head by the handful. anyway, I had a hair dream - I was swinging by it. since my hair gets curly when it's long (my ma's italian), I was flaling all about, not just twirling around an axis but more like a gas pump hose that's been all tangled and the handle stuck on "go" and geysering it up like a motherfuck. I felt motion sickness like when I was being carted as a boy up into the mountains and couldn't stop looking at telephone poles passing. color and dark would swirl in alternated waves, totally absorbing me. I was in tumult. it was intensely dynamic on me, trampoline-like. it wrung me out much and I was so relieved to pop and get dumped out of that one, whew.

   I get served up what tina made for pete last night, a lamb tagine chow. it was good. I put two hard drives, an ata pci card and a half gig of memory in her desk mac - took a half hour and everything worked good right away - that's a mac for you. we say our byes and give much thanks to her having us aboard these four times this tour, so much kindness for doing that - thank you again, tina. we make our way to the boat and I use that ninth ave way for the lincoln tunnel again which gets us to new jersey pretty quick. south on the nj turdpipe and after doing the dance you have to do around trenton (what a bowl of spaghetti), we get into phily around one pm. the whole morning's been an erie gray, trippy. the gigs in the old part of town, a pad I've played many times called the kyber. there's signs everywhere saying street parking can only go to ten pm (this is new) - shit, we go like at almost midnight! this parking fiasco crap is making me fucking crazy, almost more intense than worrying about playing the actual gig - what's that about? I pow-wow w/my guys and we decide to unload the gear where we can and I'll find the closest lot that will take us. two of the lots right close tell me to get lost, they say they do "too much business" and I guess the boat will be a pain for them. aaaaaaaaarrrrrrrgggggghhhhhh. I do find a lot w/a kind guy who charges me six dollars more than the regular price to put me in - I'm not complaining cuz at least I've found something. I get a cheesesteak sandwich - hey it's phily. I then get all droolin' over this salad bar - can't resist the marinated artichoke hearts and asparagus rods but that proves to be a stupid decision cuz shit laying out that long is bound to be fouled and sure enough, it's "short-stay" - I blow it out like ten minutes later. the head upstairs at the pad here has no fucking wiping paper so I gotta use flyers - shit, they're printed on both sides too. tour life is definitely a journey. better that sourass shit is outside of me rather than inside. I find wifi (briefly) and get this email from uncle ray:

   ...everybody knows in hankie-lingo that shoving a white one into yr pie-hole with the left hand means "I scarf caucasian cooter." I owe you one, bro-- I gotta go duct-tape some more beach towels around my elbows now...