Marc Spitz

like a-rod i am sitting the shit out. i woke up with a blinder of a headache. i don’t even really drink anymore. but i guess i’ve smashed my ear nose and throat so badly for the last twenty years that whenever it threatens rain or there’s a smidge of condensation anywhere, i literally feel it in my skull. so, soaring high on sinus medication, i just typed and organized three chapters.
the stones and peter tosh (i really want to write something about… the stones and peter tosh which usually gets short shrift in their bios). read timothy white’s catch a fire for the first time in many years.
also, the stone cover story on the “completion” of this spring’s new exile songs (it won’t feel current in 2012 when the book comes out but it feels strangely so today) and various LA Times stories on the stones/guns n’ roses/living colour shows in los angeles in 89. i saw stones about three or four days later at shea stadium and had no idea there was any drama (although i did know that i was drenched with rain and up in the nosebleeders). ’89, the year of do the right thing. racial hot buttons pushed every day. feels like the makings of a good chapter and one i remember (i was really out of it when mick and keith were sentenced in summer ’67… and today).