March 14 - Old Miami, Detroit, MI

Living in Detroit is a choice.  It's a weird choice for sure, but one that seems to make sense.  If the chicken littles are right about the sagging economy, then Detroit is a glimpse at our future.  From what I can tell they're having a blast.

We stayed in the responsible condom of Detroit, 11 mile, where a Salvation Army provided Greg with a slutty jean skirt, and me with several pink nighties.  John held up an old maid mother-daughter team waiting for him to finish trying on denim overalls in the fitting room.

"Looks too small, " one of them clucked.

Big thanks to Megan, who put us up for two nights in her Museum of Metal.  In a book we learned that Danzig lived with his parents until he was 32.

We played wiffleball, the fiances watched Buffy, and all of us ate a Coney Island breakfast next to Ren Fair goths in costume.  Plans for feather bowling and spotting the Joe Lewis Fist were talked of, but never realized.

We crossed 8 mile with its Liquor Lotto, Gangsta's Paradise Cemetery and a combination ALDI/Police Station.  It reminded me of Alexandria, Egypt, but more grey.  On foot we were heckled by a pack of fabulous teenagers, who labeled us "dumb asses" on our way to the Cass Cafe.  I enjoyed a turkey burger overlooking a giant canvas of a biker murdering a folk singer.

The Old Miami is a Veteran's bar.  "Miami" stands for the Missing In Action of Michigan.  A mural on the side of the club features a helicopter in a Vietnam sunset.

"Oh, that kind of Miami."

The bar featured all sorts of medals, bumperstickers ("Veterans Are Better In The Bush"), and a diarama of military trophies.  It's a bar that took thirty years to become a theme bar.  Age and race varied, which was a refreshing change from home.  Some people thrust their faces into bosoms, others swiped pool cues out of their buddies' hands.  Cute roller derby girls danced with their tall boyfriends.  Lots of beauty in an ugly town.

We drank Bells and Ghettoblasters.  Oh yeah, and you can still smoke in bars.  There was a tambourine on stage missing its zils.  We dubbed it a Detroit Tambourine.

The soundman blared fun garage stuff: Sonics, Billy Childish, Cramps.  It was louder than most of the bands.  Red Swan reunited once again, and had a fun set that ended with an upended guitar jackhammered into the stage.  The Sisters Lucas put on a lovely haunter minus a rhythm section.

Bitter Tears played third.  We changed in the outdoors where they keep a croquet lawn in the back.  It was cold.  Security saw us on the surveillance camera and investigated.  They decided that we were weird and let us continue.

Later we learned that the bartender thought we were taking our pants off so we could give each other blowjobs.  But we're not touring with Califone this time so we stopped doing that.

The first date on the tour with a sound system proved lively at the top, but a bad cord in the rat's nest of Old Miami cables made John's Rhodes inaudible until 3 songs in.  Alan shone his high beam lamp in my face for the a capella end of "Grieving."  After which Jennie from I, Crime informed that me that I looked creepy.

Her band enjoyed a spirited 7" release show.  We'll be playing with them next month at The Mutiny.  Fun crowd.  Good turnout.  I like Detroit.

John got reprimanded for trying to throw away bottles.  Mike dealt with a drunk girl who claimed we cheated her out of five dollars of another band's merch.  Greg was accused of being in blackface at the bar.  But I still like Detroit.