MOG

a word's-eye view from mike watt of the stooges recording their first full studio album in thrityfour years!

wednesday, october 4, 2006 - ann arbor, mi

this is a very VERY exciting time of my life and look what's on me: fucking sickness. well, threating anyway cuz I'm trying my hardest to break my leg off its ass cuz fuck any shit that's trying to bring me down at this point in time. here let me back up some: last week were the first ever gigs for my new missingmen trio. then I had to get my shit over to the new apt (scotty calls it the "boozh pad" - boozh as in bourgeois) though only two blocks away, something like a hundred and fifty boxes worth of shit... I don't know a lot about zen but from what I think I've heard about some of it is a more lean existence and I just gotta quit playing the shit-hoarder cuz it's a role getting way too heavy for me to play anymore. ok, to the point: all these things were coming together - a big part of the "exciting time" I was referring to is this recording of the stooges album that by some miracle (well, a big part is ron asheton) I am a part of and all these things coming together made for some stress that I think made me vulnerable by smiting on my immune system and giving that fucking sickness shit a shot at getting at me so sunday a fever came on and the aches wailed on my bones and joints, damn. I slowed down but I couldn't stop - I got the shit moved to the new apt (hey, a room for music and a room for 'puter pluse a living room w/deckspace to konk on - even a balc to have a q on and not much more $ a month, oh yeah - a garage to put the boat in when I'm out of town, whoa!) and my sister melinda got me to lax airport for a redeye flight to detroit tuesday night at 11:55. it was twenty minutes late and went to chicago - no direct for me to detroit, I konked that whole ride to o'hare and then bad weather in detroit had us sitting on the runway for two hours but I was so fevered and weak I konked then too - that leg of the flight was only seventy minutes once we did get underway. 11:30 am wednesday, ron had his driverman andy have his man max pick me up and bring me the forty miles west to ann arbor. ron accidently had his door locked and he was konked so I had to be a while in the rain but not long when ron wakes to let me in. he welcomes me but says I look pretty weak so I should go upstairs to the room where I konk when I come to his pad and do just that - konk for a few hours so I do. when I pop, he's got a whole breakfast chow made up for me: bacons, pancakes and fried eggs and I shovel it down good... damn, that was happening - thank you so much, ronnie! we then go on over to where dara lives cuz it's in that basement that we did the first pracs on the new tunes back at the beginning of august. it ain't but a mile or so from ron's pad but it's enough of a drive for me to see how righteous yellow, red and orange the autumn leaves are on the trees here - not like this back in cali. we arrive and I show ron the new flight case I got for the little gibson bass - it's red cuz she's red and she's made special just for her so she fits good and tight. I also show him how her neck got fixed, up by the nut where she had cracked a fucking fifth time... by that point, the repairs were just glue on glue so I had a whole piece of mahogany put where the cracks had happened and the grafts in parts where nothing was ever busted (like halfway up the headstock and almost down to the first fret). I hope this holds. one thing I notice though: there's a ferrule missing on the g string tuner, one that slides in between the headstock wood and the machinehead post that the string wraps around - near the end of the last missingmen gig (friday), I broke the g string and kept playing cuz I didn't wanna wreck the set's pace and maybe it came loose but I pretty sure I didn't loose there cuz when I was moving shit from the old pad to the new pad, what did I find on the deck (I mean amongst tons of other shit)? a fucking ferrule I figured had been from some long-lost whatever fucking bass - what a fucking idiot I am. now I think I either put it in the 138 boxes I moved or else fucking dumped it like a total asshole. I guess it was my start at trying to get to a more zen-like existence cuz for goddamn sure I gotta not be such a shit-hoarder w/how I live, I gotta lean it out w/the objects in my world. this is one reason I think I've clung to shit-hoarding, always figuring if I dumped something, I'd be kicking myself in the ass later for needing it bad. well, it's the smallest string and maybe not enough tension to yank the post at an angle and keep it perpendicular to the headstock. ok, enough about machinery - time to put it to work. scotty arrives at three and we get on the songs, some are kind of tough w/out ig cuz we key on his vocal cues but we make the best of it, everyone is determined. ron's in a very motivated stance as he plays, it's inspiring and I wish I could match him but I gotta be on this little stool cuz of weakness. trippy playing w/a pick but I've been working at it. scotty is stoic kind of but grooving like a master and that helps me big time, probably more than anything. this cat is the stickman w/the beat in his hand for almighty sure! sometimes the fever mixes my brain up and I don't know where I am in the tune so I watch ron's hand to get back into the ring w/them, fuck this sickness shit - damn, am I mad at them bugs trying to breed it up inside me. I just so much wanna do good for these guys, so much. the fever comes up in waves but I beat it back down each time. we get through all fifteen and dara brings me what her and ron call a "hot toddy" - a half cup of some kind of tea w/rum and lime in it, trippy. it helps me relax some though. I can tell this fucker sickness wants in my lung - I don't have much of a cough but even if a little tiny one comes up, I can feel a tear down there and put a handle on it quick. I did the whole prac w/my coat on - ron said it be cooler here and to bring it, the yellow one my ma gave me for when I pedal in the morning and it makes it (hopefully) harder for cars to hit me. we say bye to scotty and dara (scotty's staying a 'tel here in ann arbor called weber's) and ron gets me back to his pad and heats me up this huge pizza piece he calls "the slice from hell" from a local arab-owned pizza pad called "nypd" and it's really good. not really nyc pizza but w/it's own taste though I don't know if I could chow this all the time cuz there's enough cheese on it to make your arteries act like they're flooded w/peanut butter but I am much grateful cuz it puts some strength in me. round two though is too much and I gotta send back to ronnie w/apologies cuz I know he just wants me better. I go to konk on my deckspace upstairs about eight bells cuz man, I am fucking beat. konk comes quick, like that.