Thurston's Log 01.25.06

An entry from Thurston’s Log on January 25, 2006:

Dear Axis of Stevil,

It is good to finally write you. I must apologize for my lack contact for the last few months. I found myself traveling the eastern seaboard with a dear friend of mine, Captain Steve. We hooked up “No Mo’ Money”, 40 pounds of chicken and hit the Atlantic Ocean. The days were sunny and full of fishing; the nights short and hazy. With Steve at the helm, our voyage was vast and entertaining. We made our way up the coast and made port at many interesting port cities. I remember one chilly night in October, we made port at a yacht club in New Jersey. Just a few blocks away from the docks, we took a load off in a local watering hole. This joint was typical, wood panel luan covered walls with 6 coats of lacquer. The stools at the bar were worn and tattered, loved by many warm souls. The pool tables, all torn, with faded felt, scattered the tavern’s loyal patrons across the room. The corner, ironically nicknamed “The Escape”, balanced the overbearing force of the billiard tables. Warm couches fill the area, inviting souls to relax and ‘escape’ the daily grind. Free to converse, play music and experience liberation, its frequents often arrange various events. It was on the night of our visit, that we had the pleasure of hearing bands from all walks of life. Local bands, touring bands and even international acts, congregated at this creative avenue to share their art with others. We rubbed shoulders with some very talented musicians. Among them was a group called Katharsis. I was extremely taken aback by meeting them at that moment in time. Through conversation, I learned they hailed from your neck of the woods; Greenville. The guys were winding down their flagship tour of their recent union. Steve and I parted ways with them and began our voyage back home.

While in the neighborhood, Captain Steve dropped me off in New Bern, NC. I was visiting friends. It was there I ran into my friends Katharsis again. This past Friday, at a bar called Milligan’s, they were having a live show, with a musician named Brad Benson, known to play in Greenville.

The whole night was exciting and hugely eventful. Right when I got there, the guys were setting up their equipment. A friendly greeting and conversation later, I found myself in a unique situation. Garret and Ean asked me if I wanted “better seats” to the show. How could I turn that down? When the stage was set, the show began and Brad Benson began his one man, acoustic experience. As it turns out, my “better seat” happened to be high atop Garret’s amplifier. It was from there I could see and hear everything. Brad’s energy took the crowd by storm. His powerful voice shook the listeners as he performed his original works as well as a few crowd pleasing covers. It reminded me of my grandpa, Ulysses, when he used to do shows for us after the farmers son poured the ruffage in our trough. He could sing and do impressions, better than any other pig I have ever seen; especially Wilbur. That pig was a fraud. Unfortunately his talents weren’t acquired until after his journey down to Mexico, chasing demons from his body and soul. Mucasqueescapa, Mexican doctors called it, is legendary for clearing ones self of all impurities. Upon his return he was ‘muy simpatico’. Talent in song and impression is a powerful thing when teamed with passion for the art. For that I respect U.B. and I now also respect Brad Benson. After a powerful set there was a break and the pool hall began rumbling to DJ Big Daddy’s audio spells. When the crowd reconvened they were prepared for the awaiting musical explosion. The band began warming up their instruments; each doing their own pre-show ritual. At a moment unexpected the guys’ tunes converged and started rocking the crowd in unison. Building energy and lighting the crowd’s faces, they set the tone for the evening and that tone was ROCK! The bands energy was astounding; they were everywhere, but in complete unison. Exploring the space, moving the music, spreading the passion, they were one with this crowd. From Bassist, Eric, leaping off the drum stand, to Patrick dominating the fret-board, and Cory wailing on those drums, Katharsis gave ole’ Milligan’s more than I think they could handle. The night came to an end on a more than appropriate rendition of Simple Mind’s – ‘Don’t You Forget About Me’. On the ride home, I was recalling my impressions of the night and could only think of one word . . . POWER!

Listen, I have got to go. I had a few moments here, in my hotel at Eastshore, Nebraska, to write you all. This place is great, by the way. Two dollar L.I.T.s and robust selection of mud bath assistants: wink:. That’s where I am headed now; they are invigorating.

Until next time, good wishes and blue skies for you all.

Thurston Z. Pig

PS - Where is my “I <3 Stevil” T-shirt?

Contributors: Stevil (Featured image), Katie (Copywriting)

If you'd like to keep reading we highly recommend Sheol or Why is the name Robert Paulsen so familiar?.