"our oars became wings" tour 2002 diary - week 3

monday, april 29, 2002 - columbia, sc

from pete:

   Awoke to the sound of bubbling water (there was an aquarium next to the bed I was sleeping in); I had a good conk and no bad sueno. I went downstairs and watt was chimping diary. Jerry was still asleep so I decided to take a shower while I still could; some cats had offered to take us canoeing on an old rice plantation and we had some time to blow before they were showing up. I took a lukewarm one as the heat was still at a swelter and by the time you get out of the shower you're already wet from the humidity. After I cleaned up, I went downstairs to have a little of the breakfast that Kevin had graciously made us then I packed up my stuff and piled it into the boat. Kevin was taking his dog Igloo for a little walk so we thanked him for his wonderful hospitality and waited for Brad and Garrett (the two cats who were taking us on the canoe expedition). They showed up soon after and we followed them to the old rice paddy area called Caw-Caw, which was in the woods a bit. I decided last minute to stay behind in the boat as I had some diary chimping to catch up on and I wanted to clean up the boat a bit (I also needed some quiet time). I took some snaps of watt and jer putting on their life vests and getting into the canoes and of the surrounding area (it was beautiful), then went back to the boat to TCB.

   The crew was back from their adventure quickly as we had a few hours of drive-time to Columbia. The trip was uneventful (I read and conked most of the way), and we steamed into town around 4:00 and pulled up to the pad (a place called the New Brookland Tavern) We went inside and were greeted by Cole and Leslie, the pad's bartender's (and some very kind folk) and we did the load in, then sat around waiting for the sound cat to show up. I was reading the local music rag and found a real nice article on watt and us when the monitor guy James shows up (James also was playing with our first opening band, Fling), and he told us that the FOH cat (Benji) would be there shortly; he was.. and miked us up and we did the check. Everything sounded very cool so me and Jer went next door to grab some chow. The food was very welcome and we chowed w/ fervor. Jer went back to the pad and I stuck around, ordered a capuccino (I was feeling a european vibe) and read the local paper and people watched. Around 9:00 the first band started, so I wandered back into the pad to conk a little in the back. I listened to them for a little while; they were kind of like radiohead, but w/ a softer dynamic (really nice cats too). I drifted off a little and woke up to the sounds of Spot (Il Spotto as I refer to him now). I really love spot; the cat is an extraordinary musician and has done some real amazing shit w/ some real groundbreaking bands but couldn't be more mellow or down-to-earth. I listened to the last part of his set and rapped w/ Jer and James (who I also found out shares my black sense of humor). Totally nice cat.

   We hit the stage and steamrolled thru the set (which was becoming tighter as the gigs progressed); watt was really on and the crowd was very enthusiastically into it. My left leg kept twitching; not as a result of nervousness, but probably due to the half-quart cup of capucccino that I had consumed. Once I broke into the sweat the body turned off the shake mechanism and everything was cool. I think I'm finally finding my voice (or coming out of my shell) on "Amnesty Report" and the other songs I spiel, and my playing is becoming a little more inventive to me altho' playing the piano-action keyboard is ripping the shit out of my fingers (watt calls it a character builder) and the constant playing doesn't always allow the wounds to heal ( the callouses and cuts are constantly opening up) However "no burn, no learn" as watt says, and my character continues to build. BTW, much respect to James and Benji for doing a pro job on the sound.

   After the show we got many good vibes and comments from the crowd (some had even been at our previous nite's show in Charleston); S.C. people have a very southern, hospitable vibe and very open minds and I dig them very much. A girl I was rapping with by the name of Sam Smith (she was a flutist) even gave me a lighter as a gift (much appreciated Sami). Wonderful people. We were crashing at James' pad that night and his girl Abby (a very sweet woman and also a flutist) was going on before us to get things proper and asked us if we needed anything (see what I mean about the southern hospitality?) We loaded up the boat and headed on over there (he was very close to the USC campus). We laid all the stuff out then me, Jer, James and spot went down to a little deadhead pad called "Tavern on the green" for a few beers and ruckus. The joint was nearly empty and we were all beat, so we just downed a couple and went upstairs to conk. The deck welcomed me w/ open arms and I drifted out post haste. Laku noc' sviraci



from jer:

   in my upstairs room the heat has grabbed my body and emersed it in sweat, it's 10 am. my bladder is totally full and I stumble downstairs to open the draincock. mike's on the couch and I do an air paddle to indicate if were going canoeing today. some cats from the show last night invited us out at a wildlife refuge near town. around 12 is bout' when they're posed' to come. kevin has some eggs and biscuts cooked and I nab a glass of hawaiian punch to wash it down. after showering I load my stuff and hang on the porch. not two minutes pass and I get bitten three times by them bastard mosquitos. shit! I hate them things. I get up and walk next door where the pad had recently burned up. kev says he used to live there til' someone fell asleep w/a cig and torched it. don't smoke kids, it's dirty and dangerous habit to break. kev's got to go to work so we wait in the shade for brad and garrett to show up. soon were off and we follow them to a place called caw caw wildlife refuge. it's an old rice plantation built during the slave days of the 1800's. we park and grab a couple canoes next to the canals. I hop in w/garrett and mike's w/brad. pete decides to stay in the boat and chimp/read/clean/swimteam. I get the low down on the history of the area and have questions answered by garrett on the birds we see. I ask about a large bird I spotted on the last tour near st. augustine in the wetlands. I think it was a stork or large herring. just then I scope a big bird circleing overhead. It's a stork! I'm told this is rare to see and we enjoy it's graciful mastery of the skies. some bald eagles also have nests nearby, but they elude us this day. the paddling makes a welcome change to a typical road run in the afternoon. soon were back and saying so long to the guys.

   driving northwest about two hours we make columbia by 3:30 pm. we get loaded in and pete and I have a beer. cole and leslie are at the bar and make us very welcome. I set up my kit and sit at the bar chimping til' the sound guy arrives. mike's seems a bit apprehensive, so I feel the need to stay focused for the night. soon the soundguy benji arrives and we check. I ask cole about dinner and were allowed a meal next door. pete joins me and I order a philly steak. I save half for after the show and go inside to chimp some diary. the openers flirt are hanging out before their set and I talk some w/james the bass dude. we noticed earlier some fliers of his old band making him out to be a homosexual in an attempt to embarrass and tarnish his ego. I guess he got booted or quit w/ill feeling of something. I really don't know the details. anyway, he seems totally cool along w/girlfriend abbey. I listen to em' from the back room and chimp away w/spot kicking next to me.

   our turn again and the crowd is pumped for some tunes. we have a great vibe going and keep the flow working throughout. I love this atmosphere for playing, and it brings the better player out of me. I don't really get too nervous anymore so my energy is focused on playing good. the set goes well and the encores hit solid. I see james on the side and he offers his pad to crash tonight. I point him mike's way and he agrees to it. as I'm packing up some cat approaches me on stage and says he enjoyed the show then asks for 4 bucks. huh? never had that happen before. my pockets are empty and he moves on to mike. w/his soft spot for others mike give the cat a poster and sends him on his way. I get to pack up quick so we can have a drink inside. mike says ok and we BUY a drink. I'm glad to say no bad vibes from the club tonight just good people hanging out. james is ready and we pull anchor on the boat.

   outside his apartment building theres a bar that pete wants to check out. we throw our stuff upstair and go down. I'm just there to babysit pete in case he gets bellige. I sneek away to call kel and for the first time in a two weeks I feel cool air. she wishes all of us her best and says missing me is hard, but her strength is keeping things well grounded. great job your doing baby, keep it up just a little longer and I'll be back before you know it. I return to the bar and the deadheads occupying the place have been ingoring pete and spot for a half hour. we've had enough and return to the pad. it's dark and I slither in next to the window. I hear spot in the other room on the phone calling some chow pad in austin ordering breakfast to go and trying to have it delivered. ah, the magic of alcohol. we all crash and wait for the dawn.



from watt:

   pop and hit the head - hmm, no place to hose off or soak in, except this little white tub where you dump the piss. I'll pass on that. go out and hoof. wow, perfect weather - like cali and I think of pedro. yellow sun travelling through clear blue when I look above me. quest for cof. south a mile on rutledge - nothing here. back the other way. whoa, what a fire that was right next to kevin's - took these two houses out - terrible. further north. pass a prince hall lodge, must be the black part of town. at a market called jabers, I get some cof and some boiled peaunuts. hoof back and chow the peanuts, they're really good, mmm. kevin's phone's not working so no 'puter linkup. that's ok and I use the 'puter to chimp diary instead. kevin pops and cooks me up biscuits and eggs. thank you, kevin. he tells me about the restoration politics of charleston. he does stained glass work and gets employed by people fixing up the old pads. he hips me to the cycle: use the race line to drive down property values, move in the college kids to create 'hip' zones and drive away families, then boot the college kids and re-sell the pads for multiple times what they were recently paid for. gentrification. he's been in ten or eleven different pads over the years and has seen the same process. right now the house he's in is up for sale at a quarter of a million dollars. time to move again. he's got a little studio here in everything, oh well. maybe the fire that went down next door will hold the boot at bay for a bit. he's part italian and talks about hoping to see italy one day. he's been to europe once, he tells me about his trip to paris. there were some frustrating parts, he tried to ask this one cat where the head was and the guy misunderstood and tried to make him a pizza w/mushrooms. whoa. my guys get up and we're waiting for these two guys from last night, brad and garrett, to come by and take us paddling in canoes. they gave me a little note after the gig w/the invite and I told them I was way into it. only less than a two hour drive to the next gig in columbia - we got time.

   brad and garrett arrive and we follow them down the road we came into town yesterday on, us-17. we stop for gas and I get some 'dines. good price, only $1.09 a tin. alright. some pears left too and I have a small chow fest. continuing, we turn in at the caw caw swamp. it's an "interpretive park" now but it used to be a rice plantation. brad and garrett manage the canals and habitat to increase and protect the birds and wildlife. we follow them through the woods and up to where there's some canoes. pete's scared of his skin getting all burned so he's gonna stay w/the boat and chimp diary. I have a long sleeve flannel and use this jagermeister hat some kid gave me (his "favorite one," he told me) to go over this bandana I'm gonna protect my ears and back of neck w/cuz no shade is out there over the canals for cover. first I use a marker to black out the stupid logo - no shilling for jagermeister from this goof. pete completes the job by writing "il duce" above the blacked-out part. in early 1987, my head caught fire the day before a tour when a volkswagon bus motor went up in my face and my left ear's skin has always been a little funny. it's gets really weird when it gets too much sun. maybe this is one reason for that lymph gland being kind of swollen. I gotta watch out. in the back of my mind, I always have the fear that cancer's gonna get me, just like my pop and all my grandparents. anyway, back to the paddling - I get in one w/brad and jer gets in one w/garrett. we ease the canoes into a canal and start the journey. righteous dragonflies zip by in threes. hmm, why threes? they're dark blue w/light blue, beautiful. shrimps jump out of the water every now and then. I see a little blue huron. love the blue on the blue, like w/the dragonfly. brad tells me about the history here. this is great cuz just yesterday I was thinking about what these plantations were all about. seems this area, besides the conservation of the nature, is here to not to glorify the big white plantation house and all that (in fact, he says this plantation never even had one) but rather to recognize the contributions by the people who worked and built it, the slaves. see, rice was farmed here and it was done using techniques imported by these folks from their original homes in west africa: the ivory coast, gabon and such. the system of canals and using the caw caw swamp as a fresh water reservoir and natural tides to regulate the flow in the fields came from their way of life back were they originated. it was all forest so first they land had to be cleared. then the canals had to be dug and control gates, built w/cedar, put in. cedar is related to redwoods and is very strong and resilient stuff. the same material mike mcguire's bay pad in la porte is made w/and why it's lasted so good so many years. we paddle on, pulling our canoes out of one canal and putting them in another that's in the waterfowl area. the water levels are changed to expose chow the birds like during different types of the year. lots of birds about: small flocks of sandpipers, yellow legs and whoa, what's this? a huge stork flies over us. wow, magnificent bird. that's a trip! there's semi-submerged tree stumps - brad says they're like hundreds of years old. I dig the paddling, two strokes on one side and then two on the other. it is pretty hot out here but I'm digging it just the same. see little ramps built to let the gators come up to the shore but not any gators themselves. there's a bald eagle nest and a box built for a white owl. seeing the groups of sandpipers dart as they do, I'm reminded of the wild parrots we got in pedro (who I call the loudmen) doing the same behavior. I ask brad about this. he says it might be a way the group tries to separate out the weaker ones, leave them exposed for attack. he said he once saw this happen and a bald eagle get a slow one that couldn't keep up. some cold-blooded shit, for sure. severe way to maintain a gene pool, huh? to think some people reason humans should act that way. w/my knees, I'm glad that way of thought hasn't come to prevail. we finish up and get back to pete at the boat. big thank yous to brad and garrett, some nice bros.

   back up the road to the interstate and we're west on I-26 to columbia, south carolina's capitol. been a little while since I played here. we're at the new brookland tavern in west columbia. I get some soda water at the bar and the shins are playing on the stereo, this band from albuquerque. I dig them. some local guy, about my age and probably not a music person - just some guy off work having some drinks - tells us about this guy dressed in a black santa claus suit that climbed up the pole on the capitol building and burned the confederate flag there. he starts to have a talk w/me about the civil war. oh boy, I try to tell him I didn't think it was too civil, period - whatever side you want to take. he starts to go on about why he thinks it was fought and waits for me and I say whatever the reason, it was just terrible - brother on each other and though I know we're going to have arguments about things cuz it's the was us humans are - I just hope to god it doesn't get as insane as that again. he says we both agree then. that's good. he then wants to talk about whisky, how there's kind you drink for yourself - like econo kind and then stuff you drink to impress people, like jack daniels or jim beam. trippy man. damn, do I miss whisky... really miss it - just gotta stay healthy though. inside and outside the club, there's posters put up everywhere for this last gig for a band called the sinators, saying their homosexual bass player, james touzel, is really ugly and such like that. damn, nice going away present from your band. there's posters of me too up and they used a shot when I was really gordo, all bloated, w/a beard and looking like a dork. quite flattering, thank you. we do a soundcheck w/benji who survived a three story fall by landing on a rail, face first. damn. he's a real nice cat and so is the monitor man, james, who's also in the band going on before spot, fling. I check the online scene w/the ibook and get this disturbing email from a cat who's buds were cheated by the owner's son here. hmm, it tells me to be wary. can't imagine why someone running a club in the long run would want to do that, especially when word can get around. the email said there's lots of good people working here - some are from the pad I played last time I was here, the elbow room but to watch out for this guy. he charged the band for drinking thirtyeight beers. I enlighten my men to this. hopefully, there won't be any problems. I konk on the bench seat w/the windows open. the weather is pretty moderate. I konk deep and wake when jer pops the hatch and tells me it's spot's last songs. well, I missed him and the openers. sorry, bros.

   I grab the little bass and the slinging stuff and head to do the do. good crowd and quite w/the spirit. thank you. our gig goes good, I'm getting a little braver w/the newer stuff but still find it hard to look at folks. I want to do this and let them see the light from my eyes. I have a lit brain and want them to see, not to hypnotize them or anything like that but maybe more to illuminate what they got going - does that make sense? there's a low ceiling over the stage and man, are the drums loud - especially the cymbals. ow! these folks are really nice and are quite attentive - a monday night too. I have to say, for the two hardest days you can play in the week, sunday and monday - south carolina has been very happening this tour! thank you. I tell them a little about my paddling adventure earlier. pete and jer play quite good and I'm very proud of them. we get done. I thank john coltrane like I do every night. I tell the folks to write their own book, paint their own painting, start their own band - don't let any motherfucker put their boot on you. I thank them again for having open hearts and open minds to check out what a fortyfour year old punk rocker is doing these days. I get lots of hugs. many folks talk w/me as I sling to them. I feel so shy in ways, so grateful that they're so kind and open-minded. it melts up a bit. a guy has me sign a poster for his ex-girlfriend, who he still loves much to inspire her w/playing - she's on bass, like me. other cats say they've been listening to me since they were kids while others say it's the first time ever but they want to come back. 'pert near the only words I can get out are thank you, thank you, thank you. I truly mean it.

   I meet dave, a friend of kevin (who we stayed w/last night) and I find out he booked the show. his home phone number was accidentally flowed to me but mister kaul (the man outside the van) and wound up on the tour flyer! sorry, dave. time now w/the boss, let's see how this goes. he's a young man but everything's straight - there's few words but no weirdness. thank you. we pack up and follow the monitor man, james, who's invited us to konk at his pad. we go over the river to downtown columbia, near the school. up to the third floor of this apartment building and his bro is konked on the couch. he gets up and vacates it for watt. thank you. james' girl, abbey, gives me a banana to chow and soon I'm in the bag ready for konk. there's a bar downstairs and pete wants to go, so jer says he'll baby sit him. my guys are funny. I'm too tired to go anywhere - I'm out real quick, even w/out the mask to help. I do miss it though - especially when morning comes. gotta find one somewhere...





tuesday, april 30, 2002 - atlanta, ga


from pete:

   I was awaken by the dilligent verbal prodding of the chief along w/ another strange sound at 8:00 AM: some hack had set off the fire alarm in the building and watt didn't want his crew dying an ugly, flaming death so groggy and half naked, we plodded downstairs to street level (interestingly enough I didn't smell any smoke but I did smell a rat). The fire dept. cats had just arrived and went upstairs to scope out the pad.while we waited for the "coast is clear" signal (funny tho', me, Jer, and James were the only ones down there; watt had gone into the boat). After a while the fire cats came back down and told us it was a false alarm and that we could go back up. we climbed back up to James' pad and I tried to go back to conk mode but to no avail. James and Abby had finals to go to so they bid us goodbye and bailed; we cleaned up and had some chow, then did the same. Many thanks for the cool vibes James and Abby..

   We hopped in the boat and sailed onwards towards Atlanta; I was again sitting shotgun so I was in charge of the camera and the navigation and I took several snaps (albeit blurry ones) as I was pretty groggy still from the lack of sleep. Me and the chief rapped about the tour and his method of touring; I think it's a great way to travel- very econo and no time wasted and I've met many cool people and seen some very cool places so far. There's very few cats that still do this kind of gig; it's very akin to travelling like the old vaudevillians; no big tour buses, no roadies, you do your own schlepping of the tools (altho' the fans almost always lend a hand). It's not for everyone but Watt wouldn't have it any other way. I've grown very accustomed to it(actually I like it a lot), and I love the efficiency of it ; you know exactly where your money's going and how much is coming in and if there's any fuck ups, you only have yourself to blame. Truly, it's the best way to go and it keeps you busy,but it's not for everyone. Me and the chief also got to rapping about the balkans again (many of our conversations veer in this direction as I am very passionate about this), and it still irks me that for so many years I tried to placate and win the approval of the croatians in San Pedro thru my band; I truly love all of the music and I worked hard to expose myself to all of its forms (folk, pop, rock) and learn how to play it and sing it correctly, and to speak the language correctly (I have heard some of the more hardcore croatians in Pedro and elsewhere speak it w/ such a lack of articulation that it makes me question if they did come from over there at all). My elocution is not perfect in itself but I can understand several dialects of the language and I take great pride in the fact that despite not really being croatian (I'm actually Irish but I was adopted by my parents who were croatian; My mom made it a point to tell me this early on in my life, god bless her bohemian soul) I speak and sing it very well (I can also do Italian and spanish) and I've made sure that all my children can speak it well too( I wouldn't have it any other way) I still love my adopted culture and I will continue to play the music for the people (albeit not as much), but I vehemently refuse to get involved in the political bullshit as this is just a mental hamster wheel and I have many other more important things to do before I go. I love and care about people whatever their color, social background or religious beliefs are and some day (probably not in my lifetime but maybe my children's), maybe a few will stand up and say "fuck this, this needs to be buried and sealed over". It will happenOI have faith in humans.

   We pulled in to the pad (a place called the Earl ) around 4:00 and it was raining dixie cups (a welcome change in the weather after the swelter.) The place was open but we didn't want to pull out the tools yet cause' of the rain so we went inside and scoped out the pad; cool vibe and a nice PA w/ a stage down close to the floor. I was in a down mood as I had stupidly donated the Coltrane CD to the previous pad and now I had to come up w/ a replacement quick. I felt really bad and broke the bad news to the chief who surprisingly took it in stride (Tom had made a donate of four of them on the previous tour, so I wasn't in the shit too bad). There was a record store right next to the pad but they didn't have any coltrane ( but if you needed some import George Michael you were in luck). I tried to get ahold of the previous nite's pad so they could send the CD a few gigs ahead of us, but again no luck so me and Jer went inside to grab some chow and scan the local music rags. We got the food (I had cajun chicken salad and red beans & rice), and it was very very kind chow w/ big portions; we welcomed it w/ open gullets.

   The rain let up so we quickly moved the tools in and set up; the stage was round around the lip so we changed the angle of the usual setup but if I made one wrong move I would fly right off the stage so I had to be careful. The soundman, a cat named Palmer, showed up and he miked us up; I told him my coltrane sob story and he said that he had some coltrane at home and he lived right down the street and would be glad to burn us a copy (he made my day). He went off to do the CD's and Jer went w/ him for a hop to the post office to send off the pay to Kel while I finished my setup. Jer came back followed by Palmer who had graciously burned four! copies of Coltrane's "Blue train" and affixed blue labels on each w/ the album title and "please return to Mike watt and the secondmen". What a very cool gesture. You the man, Palmer, I owe you one big time. We did the soundcheck and the monitors and FOH sounded cool so we retreated to the dressing room to chimp some diary. We met one of the waitress's, a young nubian princess named Modula who plays bass in a local band and wanted us to dedicate "Burning Up" to her. Cool lady.

   watt went to go conk in the boat and Jer conked in the dressing room while I chimped diary and rapped w/ Il Spotto. I finished an entire day's worth in a couple of hours, Jer had popped by then and spot had hit the stage to start his set. Before and after Spot another band called "Ladies Night" played a little on a small stage that was next to the main one. It was an all instrumental trip, kind of metal cum jazz and the cats had some down grooves going. I dug on em'.

   I popped and went into the restaurant part of the pad to get a shot of Bushmills (my favorite poison) to bring down my nervous nerves. Modula decided to have one w/me as it was her favorite whiskey too (she is the first woman I've ever met that likes bushmills) - Moo the bartender set us up right and we elbowed up. Moo also gave us a couple of shots of something they called "grape juice"; a witch's brew of different alcohols but tasty nonetheless. I also met a young lady named Heather who said her ex was a Danzig guitar tech. and she'd never been to a watt show. She liked the shirt I was wearing; a gift from my sis which says "If I gave a shit, you'd be the first person I'd give it to"- not the most profound statement but it's a head turner and I love inducing reactions.

   We hit the stage and wailed on thru the set and the people loved it; much love was shown and we played tight. Watt was nervous and had a confidence break due to our setup change; he was isolated more by himself on his side of the stage and this very much worked against his playing psyche as he depends on our interaction very much (don't sweat it chief, we're very much w/ you). Somebody gave me a healthy ass grab during one of my solos and I kind of smiled and moved away but a few minutes later I feel a finger in the crack of my ass! (never found out who it was). All in all I felt the gig was very cool and I was happy; We dedicated "burnin' up" to modula as promised and she was into it (had another shot of BM w/ her after the show). We rapped w/ some of the fans while watt did merch , then we broke down the tools and loaded up the boat. We were crashing at this cat Lance's pad right down the street so we hasd a short way to go. He hopped in the boat w/ us and led us to his pad where we laid out the bags. We rapped w/ Lance and his wife's sister Rose who had downed a little Jaeger prior to our arrival(she's a bartender) and got a little bellige w/ Jer who went to sleep immediately. I rapped w/ rose; she was actually a very nice person after she sobered up a bit (I think the bad-ass trip was a facade cause' Lance told her we were some super famous punk rockers and she had the stereotype image in the head). When she saw that we were actually quite normal, she relaxed a bit. We rapped a little bit about our lives, family and jobs and I finally started feeling the sandman so I hit the deck and conked. Once again I learned a little from a person I'd met. Laku noc sviraci.



from jer:

   clang! ding! buzz! awake! what the hell is that! mike's up and opens the door. "the fire alarm is going off guys. wake up! come on! it's the fire alarm!" exclaims mike. it's 8am and the buildings going like a giant clock gong. I rise and gather my stuff staggering to the door. downstairs the fire dept. has arrived and are on the way up the elevator. we wait outside w/no sign of mike. the firemen return and say false alarm. totally lame. well, if it was a fire it's all good of course, but that's not the case. I return upstairs and shower then chow some honeycombs. abbey has to go to work and james is getting ready for school so we bid farewell and go to the boat. mike's at the wheel and we shove off for atlanta. the drive is somewhat trench like w/trees lining the highway, though the terrain is lush and full. we pull up to the earl and the rain starts coming down. I go around and get the rear hatch open to load in. soon the rain lets up and we throw. the soundguy palmer is there early and we get sound up fast. I ask about a post office and palm gives me a ride round' the corner. pete tells palm of the fact he lost the coltrane cd in columbia and palm offers a copy from his collection. I get the mail stuff done and walk back to finish check. palm returns and brings 4 copies of blue train. were grateful. try not to lose all of em' pete. after check I head to the front for some din. the manager hooks me up and I get the grilled salmon salad. great food for the buck here, I'm quite fulfilled. the magic and hornets battle on the tube from orlando, but the tired self overwhelms and I grab the couch in back for some konk.

   I wake and pete is chimping. I ask bout' the time and were up in 20. ladies nite, the side stage band, is jamming their grooves. I heard the licks and the licks were hot. were up for some wailing. mike yells over at pete and doesn't dig the fact he's too far away from us. the stage set up is all wrong, still we do our best. I can tell mike's nervous w/not having pete closer to him. I think our set still holds up to the challenge. after the encore pete tells me that someone grabbed his ass and stuck a finger up the ol' crack. I asked if he got the guys number? in the back stage room the ladies nite dudes are drinking up our beer, I'm lucky to get the last one. same shit as last time, but their nice folk and I forgive. we get some help w/pack up by lance the guy w/tonight's pad.

   at lance's he warns up before entering that his sister-in-law is a yapper and likes to drink. ok. I plop my gear in the living room and lance pulls out some sleeping pads for pete and I. mike takes the futon. lance's sis-in-law rosey starts pacing and talking 200 m.p.h... we sit and I have a beer while listening to her drunk epitaph. somehow the subject turns to trolls and midgets. she voices her disdane for the little people and take a light counterpoint to the negative pole thats planted. pete is cautiously neutral, yet sympathic to her plight. then she dumps her purse all over the table. this is a sign is some deeper issues I don't need to know. I grab my sleeping bag and take some floor space for the pass out. I can still hear em' outside yammering up, well I hear her more that anything. soon I'm snoozing and they drift away from my ears.



from watt:

   pop and hose off. that feels good. nothing like tour and gig grime scrubbed off. gather up my konk bag and head for the door. whoa, what's that sound? look in the hall and see fire alarm lights flashing. I stick my head back in the hatch and tell my men to pop up and get the fuck out of the building. I head down the stairs. no smoke so maybe it's a false alarm - hope so. I hoof down the street to simultaneously see the fire trucks coming and my guys coming out the front door. still no flames or smoke, that's good. down to the big street, I see the elbow room, where I played last time I was in town. it's closed now. right near it is the five points diner and I chow some eggs and grits there, kind of a once a tour thing - I don't each much greasy stuff in order to stay healthy. you need a little though to keep up the resistance, sort of like a vaccine uses some of the bug it's protecting you against. I then go to the boat and chimp diary. james and his girl abbey come out to say bye, he's got a sight reading exam (for music) at school. he gives me his house key to lock up w/and tells me he's in the apartment under the name james touzel. well, maybe I'm spelling it wrong (sorry, james) but he's the guy on the poster we saw stuck all over! damn. he said his brother printed them up. whoa. I thank james for the niceness and my guys show up shortly. we shove off.

   pete hasn't had much experience navigating and since he's in the shotgun chair and that's the duty of the cat sitting there, I have go at it. ok pete, let's get us out of dodge. he's perplexed. sort of like tom watson or steve reed - the deer in the headlights thing. well, the off and on ramps are coming up quick and I gotta know. c'mon pete! he'll get the hang of it. luckily, names on the signs help me out and we're on our way, west to atlanta on I-20. more talk from pete about balkan politics and the shit his wife, ljil, had to go through w/music business crap over there which was pretty much related. you can tell why pete has a bad taste about all the mess. he tells me he likes it in the boat, working the towns the way I do and keeping things pretty low to the earth and simple. the other shit was pretty foul for him. probably would've been for me too - hey, there's plenty of that here too, you just gotta steer clear and not get tangled in the falseness that permeates lots of dealings. luckily, I'm from a tradition that never needed to or could tolerate bullshit. a fine tradition, I must say. punk was so little then, if you were in this to get big, you had to be one sorry motherfucker (and believe it or not, there were!). a lot of it, you did for the love. well, that still holds w/me.

   a little hillier of terrain here than near the coast and florida. the weather's cooled and in fact, I can see dark rain clouds up ahead. I eat a tin of those 'dines I got yesterday, the ones w/the lousiana hot sauce. funny how they call it "hot" sauce, must be for very tame tongues. thank god for the dave's insanity sauce to make it right. that swollen lymph node under my ear is much smaller now, great. I'm very much relieved and grateful for this. jer is typing in the boat instead of bettering himself w/'puter games. he hates chimping while the boat is rolling. I've asked him to finish the week up so we can get this latest one on the hoot page. thanks, jer. I know it's a big sacrifice for him but he's a very giving man. we cross the border into georgia and it looks like rain for sure. oh well. first rain since the tour's first day, huh? better than swelter, I have to say. we stop for gas and I get one of those walkie-talkies (cell phones) that uses pre-paid cards, just for an emergency if we have one. it costs seventy dollars but then you can send in for a forty dollar rebate. that's pretty econo. I'm never gonna use it unless I just have to. those things are a fucking leash but I can see where they might save your butt. pete's at the map again as we approach our destination. in fact, he's at the 'puter, using the mapping software. he's confused. georgia is changing over from the absolute exit numbering system to the more contemporary (and more logical) mile marker exit system and they don't match the 'puter's atlas. we gotta use a little ingenuity. I tell pete he can do it, he's a very capable man. atlanta has really grown now, it's like the l.a. of the south - miles and miles of freeway and suburb. still a lot of trees though, that's good. the one basic thing about using a map is that to get where you're going, you gotta know where you're at first. this is an intense challenge for pete. it was the same for steve reed and tom watson too. pete hangs tough though and doesn't get flustered. however, as we get closer, I go into a big spiel about emma goldman cuz tomorrow's mayday. pete gets taken by the spiel and we blow by the exit. my fault - no fault to pete. I realize the blow-by and we loop only two blocks west of where we needed to go. we're in east atlanta and at a pad called the e.a.r.l. which is where I played last time. the rain's coming down now and I got the coat on for the first time since tour's start. I notice the right blinker isn't working and sure enough, the rear tail bulb is shattered. hmm, the tire iron was loose and maybe that whacked it on a load out or in. I go down the street and find a hardware store and they got the bulb. they got on of those leatherman type tools that go on your belt, only w/a bigger set of pliers and this is good for me cuz I have to shorten strings for the little bass by breaking them off w/bendings. this will make it easier and it has a new sheath - the one on the old tool was so worn, I had to keep it in the little bass case. on the way back, there's this veggie place where I get a spinich salad and some split pea soup. good shit.

   back at the pad and get the diary that pete and jer have chimped into jer's machine. we use a floppy to do the transfer. we've found a way to stupify all those quotes and apostrophe characters in jer's word processor so it's easier on me bringing them over to my ibook and then the web. who needs that shit anyway? fancy shmantzy - fuck it. we do soundcheck w/palmer, a good cat. turns out that pete donated the coltrane cd to the pad in columbia but palmer goes and burns four copies of trane's "blue trane" for us, very kind. thanks, palmer. after the check, jula, a waitress here comes and talks w/me. she plays bass too. I tell her about the paddling we did on that rice plantation near at the caw caw swamp and she tells me she just buried her pop in africa, where he was from. I want to go there some day, I would love to see africa. she wants to hear "burnin' up" and I tell her we'll dedicate to her. the folks here then make me a salad w/some seared tuna. damn, I've eaten a bunch today, huh? I then go to the boat to konk.

   I konk hard and get woke by jer right before the gig. I missed both the local openers, ladies night and spot. sorry, guys. watt just gets tuckered. now it's our turn. damn, I didn't realize how we set up at soundcheck. the stage here is semi-circular and we've set up along it's edge. jer's a little too forward w/the kick drum not going into my leg and pete's not across from me at all and at a weird angle. I feel all alone. I feel like I'm coming out of a fucking cake and a stag party. very scary for watt. I lean my guys a lot for confidence. I lose my nerve and forget all kinds of words in the new stuff, I feel very terrified. oh fuck, it's another one of these. I can't let this happen - I try to gather reserve strength and make me it work, make me get it together. aahh! what a fuckhead I am. I'm starting to sweat w/the nerve thing so I put the fan on. I get a little more together. I silently call out the letters that spell the magic words I use when I'm getting desperate, the ones that come w/out me even thinking of them - the ones that fall out, almost like crying w/them as tears, silently from the mouth instead of the eyes. not the greatest way to lead your men, huh? they're strong though and do as good as they can w/such a flake at the helm. I even go over and tell them how I fucked up w/the stage setup and why I'm clamming all over the joint w/no nerve. shit, it starts to make me mad and this stops my shaking and first helps w/the playing and then w/the words. fucking finally. I really go for the solos in "sister ray" and call upon john coltrane much. please john coltrane, please john coltrane - let the music take me like it took you, let it fucking free me - free me from my fucking pathetic safe... get me beyond here and out there. somehow, we get an encore and I feel pretty chump-like for that happening. they're very nice to us, how can I ever pay them back? by getting it the fuck together, that's how, you idiot watt.

   I sling and a cat named lance says we can konk at his pad, thanks lance. he says it's safe to dock the boat there too which is really important. sometimes I think it's more important than our accommodations cuz w/a donated boat, tour's done. paul, from the c-11 days and the d. boon shrine says hi. I always love seeing him. some nice talk w/the young men in the ladies night band too. we pack up and I talk a little w/patrick, who's settling w/me for the gig. he's glad to have me, a very nice man and says he just read the "our band could be your life" book. man, cats are reading that book, huh? I think of d. boon. tomorrow's mayday and I'm gonna play extra special for him, make up for the weak shit I blew tonight too. mandatory, watt. man, is the salsa good here. homemade and lots of habanero, love it. best on tour yet, thank you. lance gets in the boat and we're off to his pad, not too far away. that's really good cuz boy, am I tired. we get there and I'm in the bag like that. lance's wife is a teacher and she konks quick but her sister, who's a bartender, has had some drinks and draws pete and jer into a yammerfest. no mask, what a fucking idiot I am for donating that. I go all the way into the bag w/my head covered to block out the light and some of the yammering. I hear something about trolls or whatever and tiredness just jumps out the waken part of me hard. I'm out.





wednesday, mayday, 2002 - athens, ga


from pete:

   I woke up around 10:30 and went to go wash up; Rose had graciously bought us some Krispy Kreme doughnuts and bagels so we chowed happily (thanks rose.) We loaded up the boat and I rapped w/ Lance for a while; He 's an English teacher and just got a job in San Marco (near San Diego) in Cali after spending three years in Atlanta; His wife Willow and Rose are originally from Cali and they're quite looking forward to moving there. We bid Lance and Rose goodbye and snapped a pic of Lance, and as we pulled out Lance's Australian shepard, Alice (Alice in Chains I called her) sat on the porch and watched us leave. Thanks Lance, Rose, Willow and Alice.

   The drive to Athens was a short one (just under two hours) so it was cake. We pulled into the pad (the 40 watt club) and parked the boat. There was a very cool little music store next to the pad that had many cool CD's and records so I decided to check and see if there was any Coltrane and success! they did. I bought a killer double CD called "The Major works of Coltrane" and it had much cool stuff on it; Ascension 1 &2, Om and Kulu se Mama (the one I donated). I also picked up a CD of BOC's greatest hits (w/ the orig. version of "the red & the black), The Minutemen's "Double Nickels on the dime" and "Otis Redding's Greatest". I was happy as a clam and wanted to just tear everything open and listen to it, but we had regular duty to pull and went about it. Unloaded the boat and set up the tools in the pad (big room, big stage, big PA), then me and Jer went in search of chow. Athens is a college town and there's all kinds of bars and pads to eat; so after legging around for a while we settled on some Mexican food . The chow was very average(actually very bland), but we were ravenous so it was more a means to an end than a pleasurable experience. We headed on back to the pad and Jer wanted to chimp diary so I went to the dressing room to give a listen to my newly purchased treasures; watt was chimping diary, so I put on the headphones and popped in the B.O.C and leaned back to absorb. Our version of the Red & the Black is quite a bit faster than the orig. but otherwise much the same (re: more balls to the wall). I finished up the B.O.C and put in "Double Nickels"(this was my first exposure to the Minutemen); it was different than what I expected; My initial exposure to punk had been Black Flag back at the Pedro high show they did in 82' and The Germs at the anti club in 81' (the angry, and the angry and the sloppy). This was much different; more jazzy and funky w/ these great lyrics that were a bitch slap to just about everything. I really liked it and definitely will listen to it many more times in the coming weeks. I then listened to some Otis Redding (this is the shit that really speaks to me; I've been a stax/volt and Motown fan since I was in junior high), and I drifted off to the strains of "try a little tenderness". That stuff will always be the sun and the moon to me...

   I woke up and Jer wanted to schlep around a little and see the sights so we once again legged it into the center of the town to people watch; earlier on we had gone to this cat's house in the middle of town so he could take a look at our ailing Peavey amp; he had deemed it reasonably healthy save for a couple of bad tubes. We bought a couple of replacements in town and tried it out but the amp was still not breathing- I presumed it was a fried preamp section so we would have to wait til' we got to NY to fix it proper; either way the extra weight keeps the ballast right on the boat. Anyways, we walked around and decided to get some chow; we stopped at a little cafe and wailed on some pasta and it was very good. With renewed energy we legged it on back to the pad; the backstage and dressing room were empty; watt had already gone to conk in the boat and Jer was feeling a little groggy so he conked on a couch in the outer backstage area so I opted to conk in the dressing room. I drifted off to the first couple of notes of Spot's set.

   Jer woke me up right before Spot's last tune and I tried to shake off the lead curtain; splashed some cold water on the face and felt better immediately. Jer went to go wake the chief as we could hear the all-encompassing strains of Coltrane's "Ascension part 1" on the PA (our cue to hit the stage) we went up and watt gave the customary " Hi, how ya doin'" audience greeting and we were offO. We set up real close to each other so me and watt could maintain good communication on stage and it really helped the show out; we were all on that nite cept' for the first couple of tunes as me and Jer had not quite shaken off the groggies yet (we have to remember to pop at least a 1/2 hr. before the show to wake up fully). The gig went off great and the people gave us a lot of love, near the end of the set I noticed two cats who had been at the previous nite's show (Tom and Eric if I remember correctly); they had done a 1 1/2 hr. hellride just to come and check us out again; much respect to you guys and good luck on your new singing gig Tom. we loaded up the boat and headed on over to the pad of the 40 watt club boss Berry Buck, an absolutely incredible house that was built in the 1890's and fully restored; many cool rooms and a very comfy vibe. watt went to go konk on the top floor and he sprawled out on the deck up there and showed me where the big dipper and the north star were. Berry gave me a little tour of the house and I inquired about the doors and walls not being completely parallel; she told me that the house had settled over the years and sank slightly- it really looked trippy, like a Dali painting. I bid Berry goodnite as I was exhausted and retired to my room (once again I had my own bed!), and drifted off happily. buona notte nostri amici.



from jer:

   I awake to take a leak and mike's already milling about. he abandons the futon which I nab and konk for another hour. finally up I take a shower and chomp some krispy kream donuts and a bagle. lance says farewell and we start for athens. it's only 1 hour and 15 min. drive so were out after 12pm. I take the snapper seat and look for subject matter. pete says he stayed up til' 5 talking to rosey. many issues to deal w/there. I start our final approach guidance and get confused w/the roads on the map. they twist like noodles through town, some road numbers criscross in different directions. I tell mike to take the exit that says athens and were stuck in no time on the loop. mike barks. I figure the crap out and we find the path to the club. whew! it's early so me and pete take a walk to eat some food. we find a mexican food joint by the university (hint: when not near mexico DO NOT EAT MEXICAN FOOD) and get some chow. I don't know how they could call this mexican, more like school cafeteria leftovers. I leave feeling shafted and gut wrenched. we walk back to the 40 watt club and I ask the boss barri if the soundguy chris, who worked sound last tour, is working. she points him out at the bar and I approach him about looking at the peavey amp that got blown in new orleans. his tried to fix tom's amp on the last tour w/no success. he agrees and says he'll wait while I make a call. I take some time and he already split by my return. mike has a map he made to his house and pete joins me in the boat to venture across town. at chris's he tears down the amp and checks the tubes for life. both are bad, so we assume that could be the major problem. chris is thanked and w/amp in hand we head to the music shop. I get some tubes and sticks while pete eyes some new merch. the cat at the counter shows me a book w/stats on the boat from the firehose days. I scan the list of options listed and start scratching off what ain't no more. no radio, music listened, mota, and 4.5 passanger average. walking back I grab a paper and find a couch in the back to lounge on.

   spot's set is near the end and I wake a bit startled. I find pete in the dressing room passed out and wake him, then outside to wake the boss. gotta shake off the tired grip. pete's splashing water and flapping arms in a vain attempt to circulate blood. on stage and we look burnt, it shows. the first five songs are drowzy, then mike starts pushing us to jolt out and get the drive to ride. even though we draw 175 the place is so big you can't tell. looks more like 50, they still get into the set and we finish strong. some nice folks rap after the show while I break down. we load the boat fast and head off to berri's house.

   this pad is a rare pleasure I truly enjoyed staying at last tour. a turn of the century home w/great character and awsome decor. each room has a theme and paint scheme to match. high up is the tower room w/two beds nesseled under the roof deck. a narrow winding stairway leads up to the windowed top. I lead pete up for a view and crack my head on a cross beam. damn that hurt. I ask berri if I can have the 'happy room' once more and she ablidges me. it's very happy. I bed down and give kel a call. we talk til' I can't stay awake no more. I wish her much love and rilei too then hang up and sleep tight.



from watt:

   pop and soak in the tub here at lance's. my bones ache so. not such a good konk last night. I had a really bad nightmare. it was like I was living some horror movie, I'd seen though I couldn't recall it's title or anything much about it now. I knew I had seen it cuz I knew very well the outcome - I was the main character (or rather, my attention was centered around a character the movie was following through its entirety) and by the movie's end, to be killed in some terribly vicious way and all I could seem to do was to follow the events that led up to this and live each moment in that moment. it was though I was being held hostage to this inevitable destiny and helpless to shield my senses to any of it, the foreknowledge not an aid to help avoid any of it but instead an additional level of terror and torture I had to endure. it was unbearable, a fucking full-on hellride. I think one reason contributing to this was the fact I had konked on a bed. well, sort of a bed - more like a futon on metal frame and this allowed me to roll about and toss but w/the fear I might go over the edge and plummet. this is why I like the deck cuz you can't fall off or a couch, where there's something to lean against and reassure myself. I know that sounds insane but guess what? your call...

   I need a shave, my face feels like emery cloth. there's a razor here - what the fuck, huh? looks new. hell, I'm naked and wet and fuck going to the boat. the shaving cream is really weird though, not fluffly and light but thick and oily and you squeeze out of a bottle instead of spraying it from a can. I wonder if it's for a woman? never tried this before. fuck it, it let's me shave really close - like some top layers of skin came off w/the stubble. I feel really awake and sensitized, whoa. very much a baby-faced watt now. no blood or marks though. lance has got this great little dog named alice and I dry off just like she would, shaking very briskly and just letting myself have the shower water evaporate and dry off. when I get out of the head, lance is there and makes me coffee w/one of those french press machines. I was looking at it but had no idea how to make it work. thanks, lance. he offers some bagels and cream cheese too - great cat. he says he just sold this pad yesterday and him and his wife, willow, are moving near san diego soon. he wants to take me across the street and introduce me to this construction worker/skater/artist name raymondo. raymondo and his girl, julie, have a great pad. it's full of sculptures and paintings he's made and is stuffed w/personality and uniqueness, which I dig. I take many snaps w/the digicamera. he's got all kind of skateboards, real old ones too - like when I was a boy - the ones w/steel or clay wheels. a funny thing is the mtv people have him make sculptures for awards they give for extreme sports. he makes them like the sculptures he did before of skaters but w/their letters added. they're little but intense - all metal and stick like but embodying much movement and dynamic in them. he's a great welder, visionary and artist. his composition is right to the point, no filler. you can tell he has skating in his blood. his art is as physical as his sport and both are to the brim w/life energy. I really dig his work.

   I wake my guys late, it's a short ride to athens. I code up the week's diaries and get them onto the hoot page. my guys are ready about 11:30 and we say bye to lance. a good man. he told me once he was in long beach and just had to come over the bridges and across terminal island to see pedro after hearing the opera ("...engine room"). I tell him that after he moves and if he ever makes the hundred or so miles north my way from the san diego area, I will personally give him a tour of my town. I'd be proud too. folks being so nice to you while you're working that towns is such a gift - I wish I could find good enough words to express this. ok, we're off.

   atlanta has got a lot of freeway turning up in the shape of our l.a. paradigm. we take the belts and spurs that get us to us-29 and take that east to athens, a college town that's the home of the university of georgia. hardly any traffic on the way there. the weather is kind of like l.a. is lots - gray but not cold, not hot. my cats tell me about spieling w/lance's sister-in-law, rose, last night and I guess it was issues glore w/her - it was kind of sad and kind of ethanol soaked (on her part). I didn't get to talk w/her, I hit the hay on arrival. it's like that a lot w/me now on tour - the gigs just wear the fuck out of me and force konk on quick. I feel weak and sense I might get sick if I succumb to yammering all night, it's not like I'm trying to be rude. I think it was it dirty hairy who said "a man's gotta know his limitations." clint eastwood as dirty hairy.

   we get near athens and jer, who's usually great w/the map, fouls up a move we had to make. a trip around athen's loop and we make it to the 40 watt club, a pad I've played a multitude of times and love it and it's people dearly. it's mayday too and I'm going to make up for my cowardice last night. d. boon would want me strong this day and be an example. well, he'd want me strong everyday but he knew me better than anyone and knew that I'd stumble. that's why he always had that strong hand there for me, to help me up if I'd be strong too and give it another go. there's a book shop next store and I find a book of some essays written by emma goldman. I buy that and go to the next pad which sells falafels. I read 'per near all of it while I chow one. I dig it - words can sure move one, emma goldman sure had a gift for that. she made things clear, made them passionate. on the other hand, words can confuse too. maybe this is where I'm at. there's a great weekly here in town called the flagpole and they ran an article on my show tonight here in town, written by ballard lesemann. he writes it in "pedro-speak":

   "mike watt is a u.s. punk rock journeyman and living proof that regular dudes are capable of great art. watt jams econo on his thud stick with poz
'tude. as a young square john, watt humped gear and spieled in minuteman and firehose right in the heart of the la punk scene alongside x, the flesheaters, the germs, black flag and other sst records crews. both bands jammed hard in the broisters and neither ever went mersh, boozh or pretendo... and only did the pomp for shits and giggles. neither band earned a sizable government art collection, although both deserved it.

   "unlike most choads and major nobodies in the pretendo world, watt and his buds rhymed and wailed in caves and dives, happily shoveled pucks and dumper during hell-rides without being bellig. for years. if and when watt ever choked on the thunder broom and threw a clam he'd recover with a pop of the e and a look. while hauling, watt habitually konks in the boat.

   "with watt's new sailor trainwreck, the secondmen, the bottom tool master enlisted organ player pete mazich and drummer jerry trebotic. the crew jams 61 shows in 62 days for its current "our oars became wings tour 2002," featuring tunes and spiels from the next slab, the secondman's middle stand.

   "much beloved knobman spot opens."

   "mike watt is an american punk rock journeyman and living proof that working-class guys are capable of great art. as a lifestyle, watt plays from the heart with sincerity and positive attitude on his electric bass guitar. as a young man, watt handled musical equipment, practiced, composed and performed with the bands minutemen and firehose right in the heart of la's early and late '80s punk scene alongside x, the flesheaters, the germs, black flag and other sst records groups. under hot, stuffy conditions, both the minutemen and firehose practiced and played diligently. neither band aimed for commercial success, avoided bourgeois notions, and the increasingly heinous world of mtv... and only occasionally mocked the clichˇd "rock star moves" of their idols for pure self enjoyment. neither band earned a sizable income, although both deserved it.

   "unlike his hesitant colleagues and various has-beens in the mtv world, watt and his bandmates wrote music and performed high-spirited protest songs in large music halls and small venues, happily dining on hamburgers and other roadside fast-food cuisine during tours without belligerence. if and when watt ever made mistakes on the bass or missed an accent or a note, he would immediately come back with a percussive pluck of the low-e string, flash a familiar facial expression and then move ahead. during most tours, watt habitually takes pre-show naps in the tour van.

   "with watt's latest ensemble, the secondmen, the master bass player features organ player pete mazich and drummer jerry trebotic. the band is playing 61 shows in 62 days during its current "our oars became wings tour 2002," featuring tracks from the forthcoming album, the secondman's middle stand.

   "much beloved audio engineer spot opens the show."

   "has not some american ancestor said, many years ago, that resistance to tyranny is obedience to god? and he was not an anarchist even. I would say that resistance to tyranny is man's highest ideal. so long as tyranny exists, in whatever form, man's deepest aspiration must resist it as inevitably as man must breathe.

   "...that so few resist is the strongest proof how terrible must be the conflict between their souls and unbearable social iniquities.

   "high strung, like a violin string, they weep and moan for life, so relentless, so cruel, so terribly inhuman. in a desperate moment the string breaks. untuned ears hear nothing but discord. but those who feel the agonized cry understand its harmony; they hear in it the fulfillment of the most compelling moment of human nature."

   "free love? as if love is anything but free! man has bought brains, but all the millions in the world have failed to buy love. man has subdued bodies, but all the power on earth has been unable to subdue love. man has conquered whole nations, but all his armies could not conquer love. man has chained and fettered the spirit, but he has been utterly helpless before love. high on a throne, with all the splendor and pomp his gold can command, man is yet poor and desolate, if love passes him by. and if it stays, the poorest hovel is radiant with warmth, with life and color. thus love has the magic power to make of a beggar a king. yes, love is free; it can dwell in no other atmosphere. in freedom it gives itself unreservedly, abundantly, completely. all the laws on the statutes, all the courts in the universe, cannot tear it from the soil, once love has taken root."