November 29 Mick

DRIFT WITH A SENSE OF PEACE. The free show will be a beauty . . . I'll be so high because it won't be like I'm a whore, I'm making love. That's what playing free feels like, giving it away. And wanting it!

The Maysles getting it on, the brilliant lights Chip pulls out of his arse in an hour, the stage and the massive fucking droves. Red satin: a lilting, diminutive touch in a pinch (make that a crush) like this. I'm like Shelley, leaving lyrics for the listless, leaving them listless, but letting them fly for an hour or two. I'm easy enough to break, but don't think I don't bely a little radiant fabric. I'll rend that cape in the ecstasy of Midnight Rambler (it hurts!) and tear it up like Jimi's Monterey or Townsend's Woodstock. Fuck 'em all. I mean God love 'em. I'm having sex with three hundred thousand people next Saturday night and it's free and you can come, babies. You can come.

pssst. . .sign the guestbook!