I am so goddamn bored. Our house burned up on Thanksgiving because of old bad wiring and we've been living in hotels ever since. Bob and I have already recorded another album and haven't released it yet because I'm lazy and bored. Mostly lazy. And depressed. Shit. I never write here anymore and oodles of end-of-the-year mags put us in there (Mojo, UNCUT, Q, whoever the fuck else). Mostly all European stuff. I don't know. I was supposed to meet William Vollman with my friend Georg and the fucking house burned down. At least Tom Franklin and William Gay showed up to our Mississippi show. I felt pretty humbled by that. I mean, who really gives a shit if Mojo wants to tickle your balls or not when the guy who wrote "Hell At The Breech" and "Smonk" is at your show. Fuck magazines. Fuck you, too, cause I really am listening to Skynyrd almost nonstop now. I wanna die and come back Ronnie Van Zandt singing 'I'll tell you plainly baby what I plan to do ...... I ain't the one, I never broke your sweet heart, I never pulled my gun'. Goodnight.     Juan Murry