Tuning in from a friend's house or car also tells me the quality of the station's signal, which varies with the weather and also with time as the equipment overheats and begins to buzz. I still don't know everything about how the equipment works, but I've learned a lot since first deciding to make a radio station from scratch- when just the sight and smell of a soldering iron was enough to strike nervous fear in my heart. I also realize I'm working with equipment that has the power greater than just what's needed to broadcast a Jon Spencer CD: My engineer recently told me that our original transmitter was now in the hands of rebel Zapatistas in Chiapas, Mexico. The Zapatistas asked if he could come down to supervise repairs.

For listeners who have learned about us through a friend or tuned in by accident, our station is another choise on the dial. For the DJs, it is simply a creative outlet. But for me, it's become a huge sociological experiment in addition to being a means of musical expression. The line between private and public blurred long ago when I discovered a big, green glob of gum in my carpet and a pipe screen on my kitchen floor. And when I found myself taking out the empties every morning and picking cigarette butts out of the couch, I knew I wasn't just a pirate radio operator anymore- I was a janitor, too.

I sometimes fantasize about shutting down the station so I can have my house back, but I don't think that's an option at this point. It's too much a part of my life. I think I'm in this till the men in blue windbreakers come to take me away.