My official going away party is NEXT weekend, July 25-27 at One Sky!
One Sky is an environmentally-friendly camping event featuring some of the best electronic and live music the Northwest has to offer, a diverse collection of visual and performance art, yoga classes, and education about the environment, sustainability, and survival, all taking place in a beautiful outdoor setting on the Washington coast, July 25-27 2008.
Get tickets here
Music - 2 Sound Systems!
We will have a main stage with live music (funk, jazz, electro-rock and experimental) and an all-star lineup of DJs (electro, progressive house, breaks) as well as a downtempo chill-out space.
DJs/live electronica:
J-Sun (Innerflight, Black Neon)
novaTRON LIVE (Innerflight, Space Island)
Kadeejah Streets (Innerflight, Black Neon)
Manos (Innerflight)
Recess (Shameless Seattle)
Michael Manahan (Oracle Gatherings)
Ad Lib (People of Earth)
Jen Woolfe (Leschi Lounge, Qool Seattle)
Ramiro (Uniting Souls)
M. o. LIVE (From 0-1, Innerflight)
Anglo Satellite (Turbo Recordings, Innerflight)
MC Anton Bomb (Shameless)
Seanny "Night Train" Neider (harmonica spaceship, Innerflight)
Live Bands:
The Way Downs
(funk)
Aunt Jamama's Big Band Vigilantes
(experimental electro-jazz)
Mulally
(electro-rock)
Silver Velocity (beatbox-electro-jazz-rock)
Chill Lounge:
Electrosect (Sensory Effect)
Gel-Sol (Spindrift, em:t Records)
William Mempa (Spindrift)
Menami (Shameless)
Esnce (PDX)
Richard La Chappelle (Oracle, Audible Bicycle Day)
Skoi Sirius (Audible Bicycle Day)
......
Art
Visual Art displays by:
David Lindes (http://photo. lindes. net)
Alisha Mahone (http://www. alishamahone. com)
Live Art by Michael Brinker (Prolifik Ink)
Fire Performance and wearable goods by Obsidian Moon
Workshops/Education
Yoga by Lael Sokvitne, Osodipe Olomo & Baca
Reiki by Baca
"Damanhur: Blueprint for Sustainable Culture" by Synchronic Alliance
Wilderness Survival by Mel Sky
CARPOOLS AVAILABLE!!
More Details at http://www.burningcirclemusic.com
Also check out the NW Tekno post!
WHAT?!? You're going away? Read This
Sunday, July 20, 2008
Monday, July 14, 2008
NEXT GIG: Vibrator @ The Eagle
Tuesday July 15th
Vibrator @ Seattle Eagle
Knomus Kohonus
Jen Woolfe
Yu Ling
Goat Face Killers
Featuring The LOVELY cage dancers
Wear your leather!!
Vibrator @ Seattle Eagle
Knomus Kohonus
Jen Woolfe
Yu Ling
Goat Face Killers
Featuring The LOVELY cage dancers
Wear your leather!!
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Bay Area Babe
As some of you know, I've been contemplating moving out of Seattle since I've returned from my West Cost Adventure. I thought the path was leading me to Las Vegas, because I had a place to live and some good DJ contacts down there, but I've found that the job market is leading me instead to San Francisco. Many people, including myself, were confused about Vegas, since it doesn't seem to fit my personality. I think Vegas was still a path to my goals as a musician, but a more isolating one. I was attracted to the isolation, bc I've been very frustrated lately with the difficulties within our vibrant community of taking time for creating my own music. But I realize now that Vegas would have been too isolating. For the first time in my life, I realized more than one path to reach my goals. The one I'm taking instead is lined with love, art, community and friends who are welcoming me with open arms.
I've been down in the Bay area all week. After three rigorous days of job interviews with big names like SnapFish and VMWare, I decided an Operations Engineer position with a small startup most suits my style. Located in Berkeley, this 13 (now 14!) person company is far enough away from the city that I can spend the time in the studio that I want (and have a place for Willow to romp outside) and close enough that I can hop onto those arteries that will rush me right to the center of the electronic pulse of San Francisco. And lets me honest -- the bay area IS a lesbian mecca!
My start date is Monday July 28th. Which means I will be down in SF for many of the gigs I have scheduled in August and September. I will be back for Dollhouse in August and Festival Of the Babes over labor day weekend. I should also be able to come back for Audel's graduation party in late September.
I've already spoken with Adlib and Messiah about ending my residency at Qool Seattle. While down here, I will be talking with Jondie and Spesh about playing Qool SF again. I will also be maintaining my Seattle residency at Noc Noc with Amanita and Osiris since it is only every few months, and I will be coming back often to play other venues as well. I know that my returns to play Seattle will pack the dance floor with all my lovely friends! Probably even more so than when I was spreading myself so thin.
I'm not going to Burning Man this year. Its the first time since I started 5 years ago that I will not be attending. Its a huge emotional step! But I can feel the playa here in the Bay already.
However, I will be playing in Reno the weekend that everyone is there gathering supplies. So if you can make it to Reno by Saturday (instead of Sunday), Robb Green and I are playing a Pre-Playa Music Festival, on August 22, 2008. The event will be held at Nikki Beach (an outdoor venue) and Pearl Ultra Lounge in the Grand Sierra Resort in Reno, NV. There is a special $50 room rate for DJ's friends and all burners. I also have 10 guest spots (for party entrance), so I'll leave those as first come first serve.
So that's the news, my friends. I know I've sent you endless texts, mailing list posts, put your pictures online without you knowing, created your caricatures in my blog for the sake of my own promotion, and I thank you. I thank you for every time you stepped on the dance floor and nodded when my mix was bomb or (bombing!), barricaded the drunk people away from smashing into the decks, scrubbed puke from the Leschi Lounge carpet after an all-night party, took the neighbor's evil stares as they chewed you out for loud people waking their kids up at 5am, carrying my heavy records to gigs or new homes, moved my turntables out of the way so you could climb to your instruments, or stuck around as the light peaked over the horizon.
Mind you, all those things are still going to happen. Just from a bit farther away.
I love you all and I'll be seeing you soon.
I've been down in the Bay area all week. After three rigorous days of job interviews with big names like SnapFish and VMWare, I decided an Operations Engineer position with a small startup most suits my style. Located in Berkeley, this 13 (now 14!) person company is far enough away from the city that I can spend the time in the studio that I want (and have a place for Willow to romp outside) and close enough that I can hop onto those arteries that will rush me right to the center of the electronic pulse of San Francisco. And lets me honest -- the bay area IS a lesbian mecca!
My start date is Monday July 28th. Which means I will be down in SF for many of the gigs I have scheduled in August and September. I will be back for Dollhouse in August and Festival Of the Babes over labor day weekend. I should also be able to come back for Audel's graduation party in late September.
I've already spoken with Adlib and Messiah about ending my residency at Qool Seattle. While down here, I will be talking with Jondie and Spesh about playing Qool SF again. I will also be maintaining my Seattle residency at Noc Noc with Amanita and Osiris since it is only every few months, and I will be coming back often to play other venues as well. I know that my returns to play Seattle will pack the dance floor with all my lovely friends! Probably even more so than when I was spreading myself so thin.
I'm not going to Burning Man this year. Its the first time since I started 5 years ago that I will not be attending. Its a huge emotional step! But I can feel the playa here in the Bay already.
However, I will be playing in Reno the weekend that everyone is there gathering supplies. So if you can make it to Reno by Saturday (instead of Sunday), Robb Green and I are playing a Pre-Playa Music Festival, on August 22, 2008. The event will be held at Nikki Beach (an outdoor venue) and Pearl Ultra Lounge in the Grand Sierra Resort in Reno, NV. There is a special $50 room rate for DJ's friends and all burners. I also have 10 guest spots (for party entrance), so I'll leave those as first come first serve.
So that's the news, my friends. I know I've sent you endless texts, mailing list posts, put your pictures online without you knowing, created your caricatures in my blog for the sake of my own promotion, and I thank you. I thank you for every time you stepped on the dance floor and nodded when my mix was bomb or (bombing!), barricaded the drunk people away from smashing into the decks, scrubbed puke from the Leschi Lounge carpet after an all-night party, took the neighbor's evil stares as they chewed you out for loud people waking their kids up at 5am, carrying my heavy records to gigs or new homes, moved my turntables out of the way so you could climb to your instruments, or stuck around as the light peaked over the horizon.
Mind you, all those things are still going to happen. Just from a bit farther away.
I love you all and I'll be seeing you soon.
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
NEXT GIG: Chix invade Qool on Wed
Qoöl @ See Sound Lounge
6pm-10pm
Featuring Rockstar DJs:
Nefarious
Chicks Ahoy
With Qoöl Residents:
B.Fly
Hy-Phen
Jen Woolfe
Qoöl - Always free cover!!
HAPPY HOUR 6-11 PM w/
$3 Microbrews, $3 Wine, $3 Champagne
$4 Stoli Drinks
$5 Awesome Food Menu!!
115 Blanchard St in Belltown
SeeSoundLounge.com
QoolSeattle.com
6pm-10pm
Featuring Rockstar DJs:
Nefarious
Chicks Ahoy
With Qoöl Residents:
B.Fly
Hy-Phen
Jen Woolfe
Qoöl - Always free cover!!
HAPPY HOUR 6-11 PM w/
$3 Microbrews, $3 Wine, $3 Champagne
$4 Stoli Drinks
$5 Awesome Food Menu!!
115 Blanchard St in Belltown
SeeSoundLounge.com
QoolSeattle.com
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Riding Coach to Coachella
Before I tell you about my time at the Coachella music festival, I want to back up a bit and tell you about my odyssey from Palm Springs to Las Vegas and back to Palm Springs again. This trek was different from the others of my trip for one reason. For this passage through the desert, I chose to ride the bus.
Up until the final day of the Dinah Shore Weekend in Palm Springs, my West Coast Adventure had been virtually a door-to-door experience. Every time I flew into a city I was graciously retrieved by a friend and escorted to my destination of stay, usually their house. I even had a friend-of-a-friend drive me from LA to Palm Springs, right up to the door of the hotel, the Desert Lodge. However, I broke that momentum after leaving Palm Springs to journey to Vegas. At the Dinah, I had met a girl named Amy in a Cowboy Hat who was driving home to Vegas after the weekend event. I gave her my card and ran into her a few times after that. However, my tragic flaw was that I didn't get HER number, and hence left my ride to Vegas up to Amy in a Cowboy Hat. I'm not sure if the decision I made not to get her number was accidental or on purpose, but it was the beginning of a domino effect of interesting happenstance.
The first issue was the bus stop in Palm Springs. Or, rather, the absence of the bus stop in Palm Springs. I looked up the bus route on the internet (as a plan B to catching a lift from Amy in a Cowboy Hat) and found a Greyhound station in the middle of the city of Palm Springs, only a 10-minute drive from my hotel room. Sweet! I had a few hours to spare, so that morning, after the Party Girlz left for home, I decided to use my time alone to treat myself to a nice breakfast and coffee. I stored my luggage in the hotel lobby and set out in the 95 degree weather to find a restaurant. I turned right out of the parking lot and walked along the road, searching for the perfect diner. I walked for about 20 minutes and realized that neither the perfect diner, nor any diner, would be coming my way . Still, I followed my instincts and walked until the end of the street, which turned a sharp left into another street. The only things on the block were a Travelodge, a Best Western, some residences and a bar, but no diners. Weird! My instincts had led me down a strange path (this becomes important later).
Confused at my wrong turn and frustrated by my hunger, I turned back and walked another 20 minutes to the Desert Lodge. Up the street about 3 minutes past that was the Rock Garden Cafe. Eureka! This was exactly what I had searched (the wrong way) for. I guessed my instincts were just a little off after my weekend of partying in a la-la land filled only with ladies .
I found a seat in the outside garden paradise and ordered a Spinach Omelet. Luckily for me, the server misunderstood my order and gave me a Spanish Omelet instead of a Spinach Omelet. Even more luckily, I didn't even realize that she had given me the wrong meal until two weeks later when I was sitting there again and perusing through the menu.
Sometimes it is difficult for me to pay attention to details. They flow through my brain like the pages of a romance novel when I'm scavenging through for the dirty parts. I don't know why I'm like this, but I know because of it, I've found myself in a few frustrating situations. Once it landed me in the middle of Spain where nobody spoke English, with no hostels and barely any money for a place to stay. Still, some of life's best moments happen out of serendipity, and my breakfast at the Rock Garden Cafe was one of those times. That Spanish Omelet was the best omelet I'd ever had in my life. The fusion of eggs, cheese and enchilada sauce was one of the best blends my taste buds have ever experienced. Eating, reading and writing at the Rock Garden Cafe that morning, I was totally content.
I believe that contentness is what both stopped me from, and helped me through, the next 10 hours. After the most excellent meal, I headed back to the Desert Lodge to pick up my bags and get to the bus station. I was incredibly early, as I didn't want to miss the bus and have to stay in Palm Springs for another night. I spoke with the manager of the hotel about calling me a cab to the bus stop. He said the cab ride would be about $25-$35 because the stop was all the way out of town. This confused me a little, because I thought the bus stop was right in the middle of town. I mentioned that fact and he said that the mid-town bus stop was closed.
The ride to the bus stop out of town took about 40 minutes. The bus stop had been re-located to the Amtrak train station which was completely out of town. As a bus stop, it was entirely unmarked. It was a small, open but covered circular building on a desolate street in the middle of nowhere out in the desert. The driver stopped the car and retrieved my bags from the trunk.
'Is this it?' I asked.
'Yep,' he said. I gave him his money, thanked him, and he left.
The building enclosed a newsstand whose garage-type door was rolled down. There were a few cars in the parking lot and a white construction truck sitting next to the railroad tracks behind a fence with a man sitting inside. He was wearing a bright orange construction vest and idly reading a newspaper. Further behind him in the distance, about 2 miles away, was the freeway. Behind that, a gas station and a Jack-in-the-Box. The sun was penetratingly hot now, as it was about 1:00 in the afternoon.
I went up to the circular building into the shade and tried to open a door that was a bathroom. Locked.
'Hi!' said an ecstatic voice behind me. I turned, startled, towards a freckled, slightly overweight brown-haired girl who looked about 17 years-old. She was slightly dirty, wearing a sweatshirt and long pajama pants. Her eyes were excited, her skin pale and a bit chalky and she had a ring of red kool-aid stain around her lips. 'Are you here for the bus?'
'Yeah,' I said. 'Are you?' Behind her, leaning against a bench were three huge bags of luggage. Her pillow and a blanket were sprawled out in a spot hidden from the wind, which was whipping through the open structure.
'I'm waiting for my boyfriend,' she said, in a high-pitched, excited voice. 'He's in the circus.'
Oh My Gawd, I thought, this girl is insane.
I'm stuck in an abandoned train station in the middle of the desert with a girl that is insane.
'Can I use your phone to call him?' she asked. 'He's supposed to pick me up with the circus.'
Uh, I thought, Riiiiiight.
Touching my cell phone that was hidden neatly in the back pocket of my jeans I said, 'I don't have a phone.'
I walked my bags toward the long bench where her pillow and blanket were made up into a bed. I quickly studied her bags and asked her some questions so I could figure out if I was in danger or not. I took note of the man in the construction truck behind the fence, sitting idly, reading the paper. He couldn't easily climb the fence. Regardless, they didn't seem to be together. So if a dangerous situation arose, either his presence could save me from her or hers from him!
The girl's bags were large and brand new. She had way too much stuff, so she obviously hadn't been traveling (or homeless?) for too long. She opened them nervously many times, taking things out, putting them back in and talking. She had a laptop and cell phone, both out of batteries. The cell phone was pink. Her shoes were brand new. She was fresh off the boat from the suburbs. Her name was Jamie.
Jamie explained to me that she'd taken the bus from Sacramento to Palm Springs to join the circus with her boyfriend. She met him online. He cheated on her, but she stayed with him. They'd been 'together' for 3 months. This girl was not a threat to me, she was a threat to herself. I wanted to help her, but I knew I could not. So I did what I could. I listened.
I turned back to the man in the truck as she was rambling, spilling her guts, explaining her story. He and I made eye contact from afar. I think I waved. He stepped out of the truck and reached into a cooler that was sitting in the back. He pulled out two water bottles, turned and began walking towards me, still behind the fence. I walked over to it. He was a tall African-American gentleman, with a slight belly and gentle eyes like a young grandpa or an uncle. He handed me the sealed water bottles through the fence.
'Thank you,' I said. He smiled, turned back to the truck, got in and continued to read the paper. I knew then that I was safe.
I walked back to Jamie and held up one of the water bottles. 'Do you want some water?'
'No Thanks,' she said, 'I'm covered.' She opened her enormous red suitcase and pulled out a bottle of bright red soda. She opened it and drank it almost all the way down, adding to the red ring around her mouth. The only thing she didn't seem to have in those huge suitcases of hers was street smarts.
Because of her chalky skin and nervous nature, I suspected Meth use. I offered her a Cliff Bar, but she didn't want any, even though she hadn't eaten all day. After I gained her trust, I asked her. My suspicions were confirmed. She'd been clean for over a year, she told me, as she showed me her Narcotics Anonymous tattoo on her forearm. But recently, she'd slipped. A few times.
Another car pulled up and a middle-aged bald man got out. 'Is this the bus stop?' He asked. We said it was. He looked nervously at us. I think we sketched him out, this man, bald headed and upper-middle class.
'Hey Mister,' Jamie asked him, 'Can I use your phone?' No, he said, nervously. He walked around the station, looking for something. Safety, I suppose. He tried to open the bathroom door. Locked. The girl then asked him if he could take her to Jack-in-the-Box to use the phone. He said 'No,' again, but offered to call her a cab. She said she'd used all her money on the ticket to get here. He said 'I'm sorry I can't help you,' and left.
I really felt for this girl, stuck at a bus stop in Palm Springs, waiting for a boyfriend who may or may not pick her up, or even exist. She seemed so hopeful, ready to start this new fantasy life.
'You know,' I said, 'I actually do have a phone. I just didn't understand your situation. You can use mine if you want.' I handed it to her.
Overjoyed, she called her boyfriend and to my surprise, he answered. He was indeed going to pick her up, after he was done with his shift. The circus was close by in another town. She reminded him of where she was and hung up the phone. After that, thank God, she called her mom.
A while later, other people started showing up for the bus, confused at the nondisclosure of the stop. How curious that I'd been so early to this stop and had so much time to cross the path of this naive girl. Perhaps I was able to share some insight to her on her life, or for her to shed some insight on mine. I choose to believe that this is true, as I believe that there are no coincidences.
Finally, the bus came. It wasn't a Greyhound bus, but one from a Mexican company. The bus driver spoke only a little english. The bus was headed toward Los Angeles, which confused me. I asked him if there was a bus going to Las Vegas. He said, 'You can wait for a bus to Las Vegas, but one will never come.'
What?! I was pissed! Two hours sitting at this bus stop, and it wasn't even the right one. Besides that, the only other bus stop was in a town 30 miles away in Indio, CA. Too bad this wasn't 2 weeks later. That was exactly where I was supposed to go for Coachella!
There was another bus driver on the bus that was much more helpful. He led me over to a cab that had been standing by in the parking lot. He asked the cab driver how much for a ride to Indio. The cab driver quoted me $50. Having no other choice, I decided to take it.
The fare actually ended up around $75, but the cab driver, whose name was Steve. I know this because he gave me a business card that was printed on a home computer that said 'Steve' and a phone number. Steve kept his quote of $50. It was his own personal business, after all, and he'd just decided to go to the bus stop as he does sometimes and see if anyone needed a ride. He didn't do it every day, but sometimes. If he hadn't decided to that day, I might have been stuck there, with Jamie, waiting for my own fantasy bus ride.
Indio, CA is a town whose population is made up almost entirely of Latino-Americans. There isn't much there except some residential houses, many Latino stores, a few Latino restaurants and the Greyhound bus station. I drug my travel bags into the bus station and bought a ticket to Las Vegas. It was 3:30 in the afternoon. The bus was to arrive at 5pm.
I sat and read my book for an hour 1/2. A few buses came and went. They called for LA, Riverside, Oakland, San Francisco, Mexico. But none said Las Vegas. At 5:30 I went back up to the front counter and asked the good-looking young man sitting behind the counter, 'Did I miss the bus to Vegas?'
His face dropped, 'Uh . . . Uh Oh. Yeah.'
What!?! 'I didn't hear them say Vegas,' I said.
'Oh,' He said, 'Yeah, There's a stop over at Riverside. I'm sorry, I didn't tell you that.'
And I didn't look. I'd left my fate up to the good-looking young man sitting behind the counter. No fault, no foul.
'The next one,' he said, 'Is at 8pm'.
No way.
'Hey, I'm sorry,' he said. 'I can give you a discount.'
'That's just about the only thing that would make this wait worthwhile,' I said, as I told him about my escapades at the other bus stop, which started at 1 pm.
'I can give you $15 bucks off the next ticket.' That's it.
No shit.
As I sat in the bus station, steaming, annoyed with myself, I contemplated the turn of events that brought me there. I could have had a ride to Vegas. I could have been there by now. Why had it not occurred to me to get the phone number of Amy in the Cowboy Hat? I saw her 3 times over the weekend. Had I unconsciously wanted some time to myself? The trip had been running so smoothly, almost too smoothly. Things were moving so quickly that I had barely had time to stop, reflect, process. I'd had very little, if any, alone time, something that is not only precious to an introvert like myself, but in fact, a necessity. Had I unconsciously stopped the forward movement of the trip so as to take some time on the bus for myself? Or was my fate twisted so I may be of some service for the young girl named Jamie who had traveled all the way from Sacramento to meet her the circus man of her dreams?
As I thought about that Spanish omelet oh so many hours ago that morning, I accepted the idea that I may have instituted this whole chain of events for my own sanity or for hers. So I asked the guy behind the counter for 1) a locker token to store my luggage and 2) the closest bar. He gave me a token for free and pointed me to a Latino restaurant down the street. I ate a lovely Spanish enchilada and taco and (a term I had learned in Spain) dos cerveza. By missing two buses, I had time to stop, reflect, process. I wrote.
At 8pm I loaded my bags onto a bus that was headed for San Bernardino, where I would transfer to a bus to Las Vegas. The destination portrayed on the front of the bus read: 'Seattle.'
Coincidence? I like to believe that it was a sign I was back on my path again.
Up until the final day of the Dinah Shore Weekend in Palm Springs, my West Coast Adventure had been virtually a door-to-door experience. Every time I flew into a city I was graciously retrieved by a friend and escorted to my destination of stay, usually their house. I even had a friend-of-a-friend drive me from LA to Palm Springs, right up to the door of the hotel, the Desert Lodge. However, I broke that momentum after leaving Palm Springs to journey to Vegas. At the Dinah, I had met a girl named Amy in a Cowboy Hat who was driving home to Vegas after the weekend event. I gave her my card and ran into her a few times after that. However, my tragic flaw was that I didn't get HER number, and hence left my ride to Vegas up to Amy in a Cowboy Hat. I'm not sure if the decision I made not to get her number was accidental or on purpose, but it was the beginning of a domino effect of interesting happenstance.
The first issue was the bus stop in Palm Springs. Or, rather, the absence of the bus stop in Palm Springs. I looked up the bus route on the internet (as a plan B to catching a lift from Amy in a Cowboy Hat) and found a Greyhound station in the middle of the city of Palm Springs, only a 10-minute drive from my hotel room. Sweet! I had a few hours to spare, so that morning, after the Party Girlz left for home, I decided to use my time alone to treat myself to a nice breakfast and coffee. I stored my luggage in the hotel lobby and set out in the 95 degree weather to find a restaurant. I turned right out of the parking lot and walked along the road, searching for the perfect diner. I walked for about 20 minutes and realized that neither the perfect diner, nor any diner, would be coming my way . Still, I followed my instincts and walked until the end of the street, which turned a sharp left into another street. The only things on the block were a Travelodge, a Best Western, some residences and a bar, but no diners. Weird! My instincts had led me down a strange path (this becomes important later).
Confused at my wrong turn and frustrated by my hunger, I turned back and walked another 20 minutes to the Desert Lodge. Up the street about 3 minutes past that was the Rock Garden Cafe. Eureka! This was exactly what I had searched (the wrong way) for. I guessed my instincts were just a little off after my weekend of partying in a la-la land filled only with ladies .
I found a seat in the outside garden paradise and ordered a Spinach Omelet. Luckily for me, the server misunderstood my order and gave me a Spanish Omelet instead of a Spinach Omelet. Even more luckily, I didn't even realize that she had given me the wrong meal until two weeks later when I was sitting there again and perusing through the menu.
Sometimes it is difficult for me to pay attention to details. They flow through my brain like the pages of a romance novel when I'm scavenging through for the dirty parts. I don't know why I'm like this, but I know because of it, I've found myself in a few frustrating situations. Once it landed me in the middle of Spain where nobody spoke English, with no hostels and barely any money for a place to stay. Still, some of life's best moments happen out of serendipity, and my breakfast at the Rock Garden Cafe was one of those times. That Spanish Omelet was the best omelet I'd ever had in my life. The fusion of eggs, cheese and enchilada sauce was one of the best blends my taste buds have ever experienced. Eating, reading and writing at the Rock Garden Cafe that morning, I was totally content.
I believe that contentness is what both stopped me from, and helped me through, the next 10 hours. After the most excellent meal, I headed back to the Desert Lodge to pick up my bags and get to the bus station. I was incredibly early, as I didn't want to miss the bus and have to stay in Palm Springs for another night. I spoke with the manager of the hotel about calling me a cab to the bus stop. He said the cab ride would be about $25-$35 because the stop was all the way out of town. This confused me a little, because I thought the bus stop was right in the middle of town. I mentioned that fact and he said that the mid-town bus stop was closed.
The ride to the bus stop out of town took about 40 minutes. The bus stop had been re-located to the Amtrak train station which was completely out of town. As a bus stop, it was entirely unmarked. It was a small, open but covered circular building on a desolate street in the middle of nowhere out in the desert. The driver stopped the car and retrieved my bags from the trunk.
'Is this it?' I asked.
'Yep,' he said. I gave him his money, thanked him, and he left.
The building enclosed a newsstand whose garage-type door was rolled down. There were a few cars in the parking lot and a white construction truck sitting next to the railroad tracks behind a fence with a man sitting inside. He was wearing a bright orange construction vest and idly reading a newspaper. Further behind him in the distance, about 2 miles away, was the freeway. Behind that, a gas station and a Jack-in-the-Box. The sun was penetratingly hot now, as it was about 1:00 in the afternoon.
I went up to the circular building into the shade and tried to open a door that was a bathroom. Locked.
'Hi!' said an ecstatic voice behind me. I turned, startled, towards a freckled, slightly overweight brown-haired girl who looked about 17 years-old. She was slightly dirty, wearing a sweatshirt and long pajama pants. Her eyes were excited, her skin pale and a bit chalky and she had a ring of red kool-aid stain around her lips. 'Are you here for the bus?'
'Yeah,' I said. 'Are you?' Behind her, leaning against a bench were three huge bags of luggage. Her pillow and a blanket were sprawled out in a spot hidden from the wind, which was whipping through the open structure.
'I'm waiting for my boyfriend,' she said, in a high-pitched, excited voice. 'He's in the circus.'
Oh My Gawd, I thought, this girl is insane.
I'm stuck in an abandoned train station in the middle of the desert with a girl that is insane.
'Can I use your phone to call him?' she asked. 'He's supposed to pick me up with the circus.'
Uh, I thought, Riiiiiight.
Touching my cell phone that was hidden neatly in the back pocket of my jeans I said, 'I don't have a phone.'
I walked my bags toward the long bench where her pillow and blanket were made up into a bed. I quickly studied her bags and asked her some questions so I could figure out if I was in danger or not. I took note of the man in the construction truck behind the fence, sitting idly, reading the paper. He couldn't easily climb the fence. Regardless, they didn't seem to be together. So if a dangerous situation arose, either his presence could save me from her or hers from him!
The girl's bags were large and brand new. She had way too much stuff, so she obviously hadn't been traveling (or homeless?) for too long. She opened them nervously many times, taking things out, putting them back in and talking. She had a laptop and cell phone, both out of batteries. The cell phone was pink. Her shoes were brand new. She was fresh off the boat from the suburbs. Her name was Jamie.
Jamie explained to me that she'd taken the bus from Sacramento to Palm Springs to join the circus with her boyfriend. She met him online. He cheated on her, but she stayed with him. They'd been 'together' for 3 months. This girl was not a threat to me, she was a threat to herself. I wanted to help her, but I knew I could not. So I did what I could. I listened.
I turned back to the man in the truck as she was rambling, spilling her guts, explaining her story. He and I made eye contact from afar. I think I waved. He stepped out of the truck and reached into a cooler that was sitting in the back. He pulled out two water bottles, turned and began walking towards me, still behind the fence. I walked over to it. He was a tall African-American gentleman, with a slight belly and gentle eyes like a young grandpa or an uncle. He handed me the sealed water bottles through the fence.
'Thank you,' I said. He smiled, turned back to the truck, got in and continued to read the paper. I knew then that I was safe.
I walked back to Jamie and held up one of the water bottles. 'Do you want some water?'
'No Thanks,' she said, 'I'm covered.' She opened her enormous red suitcase and pulled out a bottle of bright red soda. She opened it and drank it almost all the way down, adding to the red ring around her mouth. The only thing she didn't seem to have in those huge suitcases of hers was street smarts.
Because of her chalky skin and nervous nature, I suspected Meth use. I offered her a Cliff Bar, but she didn't want any, even though she hadn't eaten all day. After I gained her trust, I asked her. My suspicions were confirmed. She'd been clean for over a year, she told me, as she showed me her Narcotics Anonymous tattoo on her forearm. But recently, she'd slipped. A few times.
Another car pulled up and a middle-aged bald man got out. 'Is this the bus stop?' He asked. We said it was. He looked nervously at us. I think we sketched him out, this man, bald headed and upper-middle class.
'Hey Mister,' Jamie asked him, 'Can I use your phone?' No, he said, nervously. He walked around the station, looking for something. Safety, I suppose. He tried to open the bathroom door. Locked. The girl then asked him if he could take her to Jack-in-the-Box to use the phone. He said 'No,' again, but offered to call her a cab. She said she'd used all her money on the ticket to get here. He said 'I'm sorry I can't help you,' and left.
I really felt for this girl, stuck at a bus stop in Palm Springs, waiting for a boyfriend who may or may not pick her up, or even exist. She seemed so hopeful, ready to start this new fantasy life.
'You know,' I said, 'I actually do have a phone. I just didn't understand your situation. You can use mine if you want.' I handed it to her.
Overjoyed, she called her boyfriend and to my surprise, he answered. He was indeed going to pick her up, after he was done with his shift. The circus was close by in another town. She reminded him of where she was and hung up the phone. After that, thank God, she called her mom.
A while later, other people started showing up for the bus, confused at the nondisclosure of the stop. How curious that I'd been so early to this stop and had so much time to cross the path of this naive girl. Perhaps I was able to share some insight to her on her life, or for her to shed some insight on mine. I choose to believe that this is true, as I believe that there are no coincidences.
Finally, the bus came. It wasn't a Greyhound bus, but one from a Mexican company. The bus driver spoke only a little english. The bus was headed toward Los Angeles, which confused me. I asked him if there was a bus going to Las Vegas. He said, 'You can wait for a bus to Las Vegas, but one will never come.'
What?! I was pissed! Two hours sitting at this bus stop, and it wasn't even the right one. Besides that, the only other bus stop was in a town 30 miles away in Indio, CA. Too bad this wasn't 2 weeks later. That was exactly where I was supposed to go for Coachella!
There was another bus driver on the bus that was much more helpful. He led me over to a cab that had been standing by in the parking lot. He asked the cab driver how much for a ride to Indio. The cab driver quoted me $50. Having no other choice, I decided to take it.
The fare actually ended up around $75, but the cab driver, whose name was Steve. I know this because he gave me a business card that was printed on a home computer that said 'Steve' and a phone number. Steve kept his quote of $50. It was his own personal business, after all, and he'd just decided to go to the bus stop as he does sometimes and see if anyone needed a ride. He didn't do it every day, but sometimes. If he hadn't decided to that day, I might have been stuck there, with Jamie, waiting for my own fantasy bus ride.
Indio, CA is a town whose population is made up almost entirely of Latino-Americans. There isn't much there except some residential houses, many Latino stores, a few Latino restaurants and the Greyhound bus station. I drug my travel bags into the bus station and bought a ticket to Las Vegas. It was 3:30 in the afternoon. The bus was to arrive at 5pm.
I sat and read my book for an hour 1/2. A few buses came and went. They called for LA, Riverside, Oakland, San Francisco, Mexico. But none said Las Vegas. At 5:30 I went back up to the front counter and asked the good-looking young man sitting behind the counter, 'Did I miss the bus to Vegas?'
His face dropped, 'Uh . . . Uh Oh. Yeah.'
What!?! 'I didn't hear them say Vegas,' I said.
'Oh,' He said, 'Yeah, There's a stop over at Riverside. I'm sorry, I didn't tell you that.'
And I didn't look. I'd left my fate up to the good-looking young man sitting behind the counter. No fault, no foul.
'The next one,' he said, 'Is at 8pm'.
No way.
'Hey, I'm sorry,' he said. 'I can give you a discount.'
'That's just about the only thing that would make this wait worthwhile,' I said, as I told him about my escapades at the other bus stop, which started at 1 pm.
'I can give you $15 bucks off the next ticket.' That's it.
No shit.
As I sat in the bus station, steaming, annoyed with myself, I contemplated the turn of events that brought me there. I could have had a ride to Vegas. I could have been there by now. Why had it not occurred to me to get the phone number of Amy in the Cowboy Hat? I saw her 3 times over the weekend. Had I unconsciously wanted some time to myself? The trip had been running so smoothly, almost too smoothly. Things were moving so quickly that I had barely had time to stop, reflect, process. I'd had very little, if any, alone time, something that is not only precious to an introvert like myself, but in fact, a necessity. Had I unconsciously stopped the forward movement of the trip so as to take some time on the bus for myself? Or was my fate twisted so I may be of some service for the young girl named Jamie who had traveled all the way from Sacramento to meet her the circus man of her dreams?
As I thought about that Spanish omelet oh so many hours ago that morning, I accepted the idea that I may have instituted this whole chain of events for my own sanity or for hers. So I asked the guy behind the counter for 1) a locker token to store my luggage and 2) the closest bar. He gave me a token for free and pointed me to a Latino restaurant down the street. I ate a lovely Spanish enchilada and taco and (a term I had learned in Spain) dos cerveza. By missing two buses, I had time to stop, reflect, process. I wrote.
At 8pm I loaded my bags onto a bus that was headed for San Bernardino, where I would transfer to a bus to Las Vegas. The destination portrayed on the front of the bus read: 'Seattle.'
Coincidence? I like to believe that it was a sign I was back on my path again.
Friday, June 13, 2008
NEXT GIG: Flashbulb @ Qool!`
Next Wednesday June 18 is a VERY BIG night at SeeSound Lounge!!! This is a HEADLINER at 8:15pm
The Flashbulb
Recess
Naha
Qool Residents:
Hyph-En
Jen Woolfe
Set Times:
6:00-6:45 = Jen Woolfe
6:45-7:30 = Hyph-En
7:30-8:15 = Recess
8:15-9:45 = The Flashbulb
9:45-10:30 = NAHA
THIS EVENT IS FREE!
HAPPY HOUR 5-10 PM w/
$3 Microbrews, $3 Wine, $3 Champagne
$4 Stoli Drinks
$5 Awesome Food Menu!!
115 Blanchard St in Belltown
SeeSoundLounge.com
QoolSeattle.com
The Flashbulb
Recess
Naha
Qool Residents:
Hyph-En
Jen Woolfe
Set Times:
6:00-6:45 = Jen Woolfe
6:45-7:30 = Hyph-En
7:30-8:15 = Recess
8:15-9:45 = The Flashbulb
9:45-10:30 = NAHA
THIS EVENT IS FREE!
HAPPY HOUR 5-10 PM w/
$3 Microbrews, $3 Wine, $3 Champagne
$4 Stoli Drinks
$5 Awesome Food Menu!!
115 Blanchard St in Belltown
SeeSoundLounge.com
QoolSeattle.com
Tuesday, May 27, 2008
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
O Dinah, My Dinah part(y) II
One thing that never ceases to amaze me is the phenomenon of how connected we all are as individuals. How many times have you met someone and realized later that you had been in the same place or at the same party only a few days or weeks earlier? Whenever I experience this sensation, I'm always curious how many times I had passed by that person before we actually met. The first time I met my friend Vudu is a good example. He's tall and graceful with a Euro-80's flair, someone you'd expect to see in a modern Depeche Mode video. He's hard to miss. This was especially true when I met him a few years ago because of a vibrant red swish of color that painted the front of his bangs. I was introduced to him at The Chapel by Succulent Sam and realized soon after that I had just seen him in a Yoga class a week before. Or how many times do you run into one person in the course of a few weeks? I managed to bump into Robb Green 5 times in one month before he moved to San Francisco. Whenever I discover these kinds of syncronicities, I always believe that we were destined to meet.
That said, there is no doubt that in Palm Springs, I was destined to meet Pooh.
The night started at sundown, when I awoke abruptly from my pool side nap. Myself and the party girlz had been bathing in the sun all day at the TGIF Pool Party hosted by GirlBar at the Wyndam Hotel. After lunch on the outdoor patio at Ruby's Diner we headed back to our Desert Lodge for some downtime before the evening's festivities. I gathered my book and towel and headed upstairs to the room where Mxxx and Trinitron were chillin'. I opened the door abruptly and said, 'Let's play I Never.'
'I Never' is a drinking game. The premise of the game is that one person says 'I Never - blah'. If you HAVE done blah, you drink. If not, you don't. Thus, the more blah you've done the drunker you get. I used to play 'I Never' in college. Since college, I Never forget that I can't drink like I did in college (drink). So, I Never played 'I Never' after college (drink). Now, I Never drink before I head out to the bars (drink). Because, I Never like to get drunk (drink). I especially Never like to be hung over. I Never got buzzed before I headed out to the Pure White Party that night (drink). And I Never realized how buzzed I was.
I also Never realized, when I started up a conversation with the two girls in the bathroom about our non-all white outfits, that I'd become great friends with the smiling American-Indian girl behind me. Her name was Pooh and she followed me out of the bathroom because she said I 'funny and cute and a little drunk'. We Never connected the fact that only a few hours earlier she had been chatting with Trinitron in the pool while tossing around a football. And she Never foresaw what she was getting into (drink).
So while the Friday Night White Party was a little blurry for me, I do remember quite a few highlights:
- The fluffy poodle outside of our hotel room before we left
- The male owner of the fluffy poodle outside of our hotel room before we left who said he was a lesbian (I've Never heard a guy say that before (drink))
- The many hundreds of women all wearing white, dancing and smiling
- The House music DJ Kimberly S. played all night until the last hour or so when DJ Mike Bryant threw down lesbian-loving hip hop
- The hot dancers.
- The super talented lighting girl who was wearing all black
- Taking an in-club self-portrait with Peta.
- Showin' off my hip hop flava by giggin', squished between Mxxx, Trinitron, Pooh and her Crew.
- Pooh asking me to do Karaoke with her the next night at the Mardi Gras Masquerade party
- Saying 'No Way' to Pooh asking me to do Karaoke with her the next night at the Mardi Gras Masquerade party
- Listening to Belinda Carlile sing live to many hundreds of women wearing all white, dancing and smiling
- Getting to know Pooh in the 24-hour hot tub at our Desert Lodge
- Listening to Trinitron interrogate a very very very drunk US Marine of Russian decent who claimed he was a doctor and about to go to war while getting to know Pooh in the 24-hour tub at our Desert Lodge
I know what you are wondering.
At this point you are wondering 'what the hell do Pure White and TGIF Pool parties have to do with Dinah Shore?' Dinah Shore was a well-known singer and actress in the 40's and 50's. She continued acting and became very popular from both her television career in the 70's and 80's as well as her many romances to such leading men as James Stewart, George Montgomery, Frank Sinatra, Dick Martin, Andy Williams, Dean Martin and Burt Reynolds. 'Shore, who played golf herself, was a long-time supporter of women's professional golf. In 1972, she helped found the Colgate Dinah Shore golf tournament, which today, now known as the Kraft Nabisco Championship, remains as one of the four major golf tournaments on the LPGA Tour. The tournament is held each spring near Shore's former home in Rancho Mirage, California.1' About 20 years ago, the two owners of the lesbian GirlBar in Los Angeles, Sandy Sachs and Robin Gans, came to the tournament and decided the next few years to throw a party. Which, 20 years later, is the biggest lesbian party in the country. (Check out this article from The Observer for more info about the history of the Dinah Shore Weekend ('We're not just a weekend anymore!')
I did, in fact, watch the golf tournament -- for about 5 minutes. It was on television before we left the hotel room for Saturday's WET and Wild Pool Party. This pool party was even more insane! Now thousands of women of all shapes, sizes and priorities filled the main pool and surrounding spas to dance, drink and party like the rock stars they are. It was like 'Girls Gone Wild' for lesbians (Though I Never saw any boob shots ((drink)).
Instead of DJ's this day, live music filled the stage. I miraculously managed to find a lounge chair to lay down in by Pooh's Palm Springs roommate, Jamie, immediately in front of stage. This was fine except it was incredibly loud. I wished I had brought the ear plugs that had become a staple for me during my adventures. I shuffled around the pool chatting with chics and taking pictures of the swarms of women. I Never drank any of the $9 vodka redbulls (drink), not even a sip (drink, drink). I caught up with Pooh dancing at the front of the stage at the end of the day, but only long enough to say goodbye. I was headed back to our Desert Lodge to get some rest before yet ANOTHER night of dancing and women.
Saturday night's party was GirlBar's main dance party event, the Mardi Gras Masquerade Ball. Mxxx, after kickin' it at the pool all day with the ladies , decided to stay in that night, but Trinitron and I headed out around 11 to get the party started, riiight (hip hop reference). We found a parking spot and sauntered toward the large event center. You'll Never guess who we ran into at the exact moment that we crossed the street to the corner of the Event Center (drink).
You can't run from fate. But I tried. I wasn't too into the dance part of the night. The energy of the large, long event center felt too reminiscent of Girl4Girl in Seattle, a night I haven't enjoyed for quite a while. There is too little electronic music swirling the stagnant energy created from high levels of drama and expectation. DJ's that do well at events like those, like DJ Beyonda, DJ Spinderella and DJ Automation, must play a plethora of pop and hip hop styles in order to gratify the age gaps that span the party's patrons. So instead, I spent some time in the Mock Vegas area, learning craps in preparation for my trip to Sin City in the next few days. I wandered through the Latin room, dance room and front room saying hello to some of the people I'd already met that weekend. I stared at the hot Go Go dancers who MUST have been way tired because they'd been dancing it up all weekend. And, I watched the 80's band the Go Go's re-live their stardom at the first concert they'd played together in 30 years.
But otherwise, I was bored. Very bored. So bored I decided to turn towards the future and face my fate. I decided to do what I'd imagined I'd been brought to Palm Springs to do. I did that thing that stops me from going to the only women's bar in Seattle, the Wild Rose, on certain weekdays. I did what I'd been trying to avoid all night. I did something that I had never before done while sober.
I did Karaoke.
There is only one song I will Karaoke to. If you can guess the song, I'll Karaoke it with you. The night before, Pooh would have never guessed it (drink). So I told her. I told her because underneath it all, I realized that I was ready.
The only song I will Karaoke to is a song by the soul funk legend, Clarence Carter. Its called Strokin'. I walked into the Karaoke room and sat at the table. 'I'm here to pay my dues,' I said. She put our names on the teeny tiny list and I waited to fulfill my fate. After not very long, Pooh and I stood up on the small stage and Karaoke'd to Clarence Carter's Strokin'.
I've Never had so much fun singing.
Missed Part I?
1. Quoting Wikipedia
That said, there is no doubt that in Palm Springs, I was destined to meet Pooh.
The night started at sundown, when I awoke abruptly from my pool side nap. Myself and the party girlz had been bathing in the sun all day at the TGIF Pool Party hosted by GirlBar at the Wyndam Hotel. After lunch on the outdoor patio at Ruby's Diner we headed back to our Desert Lodge for some downtime before the evening's festivities. I gathered my book and towel and headed upstairs to the room where Mxxx and Trinitron were chillin'. I opened the door abruptly and said, 'Let's play I Never.'
'I Never' is a drinking game. The premise of the game is that one person says 'I Never - blah'. If you HAVE done blah, you drink. If not, you don't. Thus, the more blah you've done the drunker you get. I used to play 'I Never' in college. Since college, I Never forget that I can't drink like I did in college (drink). So, I Never played 'I Never' after college (drink). Now, I Never drink before I head out to the bars (drink). Because, I Never like to get drunk (drink). I especially Never like to be hung over. I Never got buzzed before I headed out to the Pure White Party that night (drink). And I Never realized how buzzed I was.
I also Never realized, when I started up a conversation with the two girls in the bathroom about our non-all white outfits, that I'd become great friends with the smiling American-Indian girl behind me. Her name was Pooh and she followed me out of the bathroom because she said I 'funny and cute and a little drunk'. We Never connected the fact that only a few hours earlier she had been chatting with Trinitron in the pool while tossing around a football. And she Never foresaw what she was getting into (drink).
So while the Friday Night White Party was a little blurry for me, I do remember quite a few highlights:
- The fluffy poodle outside of our hotel room before we left
- The male owner of the fluffy poodle outside of our hotel room before we left who said he was a lesbian (I've Never heard a guy say that before (drink))
- The many hundreds of women all wearing white, dancing and smiling
- The House music DJ Kimberly S. played all night until the last hour or so when DJ Mike Bryant threw down lesbian-loving hip hop
- The hot dancers.
- The super talented lighting girl who was wearing all black
- Taking an in-club self-portrait with Peta.
- Showin' off my hip hop flava by giggin', squished between Mxxx, Trinitron, Pooh and her Crew.
- Pooh asking me to do Karaoke with her the next night at the Mardi Gras Masquerade party
- Saying 'No Way' to Pooh asking me to do Karaoke with her the next night at the Mardi Gras Masquerade party
- Listening to Belinda Carlile sing live to many hundreds of women wearing all white, dancing and smiling
- Getting to know Pooh in the 24-hour hot tub at our Desert Lodge
- Listening to Trinitron interrogate a very very very drunk US Marine of Russian decent who claimed he was a doctor and about to go to war while getting to know Pooh in the 24-hour tub at our Desert Lodge
I know what you are wondering.
At this point you are wondering 'what the hell do Pure White and TGIF Pool parties have to do with Dinah Shore?' Dinah Shore was a well-known singer and actress in the 40's and 50's. She continued acting and became very popular from both her television career in the 70's and 80's as well as her many romances to such leading men as James Stewart, George Montgomery, Frank Sinatra, Dick Martin, Andy Williams, Dean Martin and Burt Reynolds. 'Shore, who played golf herself, was a long-time supporter of women's professional golf. In 1972, she helped found the Colgate Dinah Shore golf tournament, which today, now known as the Kraft Nabisco Championship, remains as one of the four major golf tournaments on the LPGA Tour. The tournament is held each spring near Shore's former home in Rancho Mirage, California.1' About 20 years ago, the two owners of the lesbian GirlBar in Los Angeles, Sandy Sachs and Robin Gans, came to the tournament and decided the next few years to throw a party. Which, 20 years later, is the biggest lesbian party in the country. (Check out this article from The Observer for more info about the history of the Dinah Shore Weekend ('We're not just a weekend anymore!')
I did, in fact, watch the golf tournament -- for about 5 minutes. It was on television before we left the hotel room for Saturday's WET and Wild Pool Party. This pool party was even more insane! Now thousands of women of all shapes, sizes and priorities filled the main pool and surrounding spas to dance, drink and party like the rock stars they are. It was like 'Girls Gone Wild' for lesbians (Though I Never saw any boob shots ((drink)).
Instead of DJ's this day, live music filled the stage. I miraculously managed to find a lounge chair to lay down in by Pooh's Palm Springs roommate, Jamie, immediately in front of stage. This was fine except it was incredibly loud. I wished I had brought the ear plugs that had become a staple for me during my adventures. I shuffled around the pool chatting with chics and taking pictures of the swarms of women. I Never drank any of the $9 vodka redbulls (drink), not even a sip (drink, drink). I caught up with Pooh dancing at the front of the stage at the end of the day, but only long enough to say goodbye. I was headed back to our Desert Lodge to get some rest before yet ANOTHER night of dancing and women.
Saturday night's party was GirlBar's main dance party event, the Mardi Gras Masquerade Ball. Mxxx, after kickin' it at the pool all day with the ladies , decided to stay in that night, but Trinitron and I headed out around 11 to get the party started, riiight (hip hop reference). We found a parking spot and sauntered toward the large event center. You'll Never guess who we ran into at the exact moment that we crossed the street to the corner of the Event Center (drink).
You can't run from fate. But I tried. I wasn't too into the dance part of the night. The energy of the large, long event center felt too reminiscent of Girl4Girl in Seattle, a night I haven't enjoyed for quite a while. There is too little electronic music swirling the stagnant energy created from high levels of drama and expectation. DJ's that do well at events like those, like DJ Beyonda, DJ Spinderella and DJ Automation, must play a plethora of pop and hip hop styles in order to gratify the age gaps that span the party's patrons. So instead, I spent some time in the Mock Vegas area, learning craps in preparation for my trip to Sin City in the next few days. I wandered through the Latin room, dance room and front room saying hello to some of the people I'd already met that weekend. I stared at the hot Go Go dancers who MUST have been way tired because they'd been dancing it up all weekend. And, I watched the 80's band the Go Go's re-live their stardom at the first concert they'd played together in 30 years.
But otherwise, I was bored. Very bored. So bored I decided to turn towards the future and face my fate. I decided to do what I'd imagined I'd been brought to Palm Springs to do. I did that thing that stops me from going to the only women's bar in Seattle, the Wild Rose, on certain weekdays. I did what I'd been trying to avoid all night. I did something that I had never before done while sober.
I did Karaoke.
There is only one song I will Karaoke to. If you can guess the song, I'll Karaoke it with you. The night before, Pooh would have never guessed it (drink). So I told her. I told her because underneath it all, I realized that I was ready.
The only song I will Karaoke to is a song by the soul funk legend, Clarence Carter. Its called Strokin'. I walked into the Karaoke room and sat at the table. 'I'm here to pay my dues,' I said. She put our names on the teeny tiny list and I waited to fulfill my fate. After not very long, Pooh and I stood up on the small stage and Karaoke'd to Clarence Carter's Strokin'.
I've Never had so much fun singing.
Missed Part I?
1. Quoting Wikipedia
Monday, May 12, 2008
NEW MIX: Pilot Demetia
I finally recorded a new mix after too long of a stretch since the last one. There's been many new changes in my life (residencies & residences, styles and even computer and music tools), making throwing down and putting up a set very challenging. But now I'm back in the groove with a new style to show for it.
Pilot Dementia
Flying forward, despite confusion. But trusting the Universe and enjoying the ride. Genre: Nu Skool Breaks/House
Playlist
Just Banks - The Meltdown [ Etage Noir ]
Organ Dementia - Groove Allegiance [ Organ Dementia ]
Sweet Like Suga
Access Denied - Wireless Connection [ Systematica ]
Wiggy Wah - Projectiles [ Moonwalk Skeleton ]
Bend Over Toaster - Genderfix [ Spreading the Contagion ]
Dirty Roxx - Moya
2 Drunk 2 Fuck - Elektrik Haze [ MR Collection 3 ]
Promises - Starkillerz [ Dirty Sound Vol 1: The Injection ]
Obrigado Jmekka Meets Lai - [ Petit Comite ]
My People - The Presents
The 2 and Only (nick Thayer Remx) Moston - [The Shirk Off ]
Strider - Inner c ity Sumo [ Splank ]
Flore - All Right [ iBreaks Funk ]
A Room Full of Cute rmx by Funknslocuts - Minuit
All my Mixes
Pilot Dementia
Flying forward, despite confusion. But trusting the Universe and enjoying the ride. Genre: Nu Skool Breaks/House
Playlist
Just Banks - The Meltdown [ Etage Noir ]
Organ Dementia - Groove Allegiance [ Organ Dementia ]
Sweet Like Suga
Access Denied - Wireless Connection [ Systematica ]
Wiggy Wah - Projectiles [ Moonwalk Skeleton ]
Bend Over Toaster - Genderfix [ Spreading the Contagion ]
Dirty Roxx - Moya
2 Drunk 2 Fuck - Elektrik Haze [ MR Collection 3 ]
Promises - Starkillerz [ Dirty Sound Vol 1: The Injection ]
Obrigado Jmekka Meets Lai - [ Petit Comite ]
My People - The Presents
The 2 and Only (nick Thayer Remx) Moston - [The Shirk Off ]
Strider - Inner c ity Sumo [ Splank ]
Flore - All Right [ iBreaks Funk ]
A Room Full of Cute rmx by Funknslocuts - Minuit
All my Mixes
Wednesday, April 30, 2008
NEXT GIGs: Funk Reflections Hot Wired
Wednesday @ SeeSound and Friday @ Noc Noc
Wed April 30 Qool @ SeeSound
Qool Reflections of Funk
dj's
Danny Massure
Mumbles
Ill Cosby
Jen Woolfe
Kreeper
Tuzaar
B.Fly
This is a happy hour event! 6-10 then 10-2
No Cover
$4 Stolis during happy hour
Fri May 2nd - HotWired @ Noc Noc
dj's
Jen Woolfe
Lara
Osiris Indriya
Performances by
First Birds of Paradise
Pure Cirkus
$5 before 10pm, $10 after
Noc Noc
1516 2nd Ave
Wed April 30 Qool @ SeeSound
Qool Reflections of Funk
dj's
Danny Massure
Mumbles
Ill Cosby
Jen Woolfe
Kreeper
Tuzaar
B.Fly
This is a happy hour event! 6-10 then 10-2
No Cover
$4 Stolis during happy hour
Fri May 2nd - HotWired @ Noc Noc
dj's
Jen Woolfe
Lara
Osiris Indriya
Performances by
First Birds of Paradise
Pure Cirkus
$5 before 10pm, $10 after
Noc Noc
1516 2nd Ave
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
O Dinah, My Dinah part(y) I
The night before I left for the biggest lesbian party in the country, I headed off to West Hollywood for a tiny taste of gay LA. Vivek, my hetro hero, went willingly to WeHo with myself and PR Girl. He is from India, a country where homosexuality is considered a taboo subject (as is the discussion of sexuality in general), and where "Sexual acts 'against the order of nature' remain illegal". However, Vivek, of open mind and open heart, embraces a more progressive view of life and love, and seems to be an example of a reformation of views in his home country, one that is more willing to the exploration of all aspects of human culture, even those outside of traditional values.
He and his roommate Leanne met us at The Abbey in West Hollywood, a gorgeous posh and brick building on Robertson between Santa Monica and Melrose. PR Girl and I were already sipping on our second berry-based cocktails, the kind that come in long-stemmed martini glasses and just make fruits silly. After The Abbey we proceeded to an intimate loungy bar called East|West with couches and an outdoor patio (they all have outdoor patios). I love bars that feel like you are walking into a rich uncle's apartment loft. This one had an upstairs VIP room that looked out over the entire bar through an all-glass wall and a huge unisex bathroom downstairs. I remember there was a poor girl puking in one of the stalls and two friends helping her out. It was only Wednesday. My, did she have a long weekend ahead!
But then again, didn't we all?
I was up early again the next day and fully packed when DannyBSmooth picked me up to take me to my next destination of Palm Springs -- to be known that weekend as Pleasure Island. I was to attend the Dinah Shore Event, self-proclaimed as 'The Greatest Women's Weekend on Earth.' (They're not just a weekend anymore).
DannyBSmooth was conveniently heading for a (hetro) wedding, which gave us a full two hours to chat and share stories. He dropped me off at Desert Lodge, my new home for four full days of dykes, discos and debauchery. I had a few hours to unpack and start my blog about Venice Beach until the party girlz Mxxx and DJ Trinitron showed up at the Desert door from their long drive after flying into San Diego from Seattle.
After hello hugs and dibs on beds, we decided to tour around the area in the rental car in search of the non-northwest choke 'n puke, In-N-Out Burger. We found one way outside of Palm Springs and into Indio, where a few short weeks later I would be attending the Coachella Music Festival. After a tasty burger and greasy fries we found an organic grocery store to stock up our lil' fridge inside the hotel room. We didn't have a microwave or a coffee maker, but we made due with sandwich fixin's, spinach salads and the liquor store next to us that served a decent coffee roast.
We stayed in at the hotel the first night, chatting in the 24-hour hot tub for a while (which was actually more like the luke warm tub). I knew the two girls as acquaintances from out on the town in Seattle, specifically at Dollhouse where DJ Trinitron has been known to tear up the front room with her saucy selection of dance beats. And Mxxx, an aspiring DJ and long-time clubber, is always lighting up parties with her outrageous smile. I'm blessed to have really gotten to know the these amazing girls over this fantastical weekend of females and fun.
Friday morning we were up bright and early, ready to hit 1 of the 3 impending pool parties. Our first pool stop was the 'TGIF Pool Party' sponsored by GirlBar, the first of two outfits to throw parties during Dinah Shore Week. We walked into the Wyndham Hotel and stopped at a booth to pick up some passes for all the parties to be attended that weekend. Unfortunately, the mammoth 'All Event Pass,' which is the most cost effective (a ticket for the main event GirlBar party on Saturday is $90 alone!) had been sold out weeks before. Which meant in order to stay within financial reason, we had to force ourselves to stick with one group of parties and wouldn't be able to pick and choose from all of the above. We decided on the GirlBar EZ Pass, which we hoped would have a more inveigling effect on our evenings, but actually just gave us entrance into the 'Pure White' dance party on Friday, the 'Wet N' Wild Pool Party' on Saturday and the main event 'Masquerade Ball' on Saturday night.
Still, it was all worth it. After having our bags checked for liquids (including water), weapons and food, we strutted into the huge pool area packed with women of all shapes, sizes and priorities. There were bars located in every direction, entangled with small hot tubs and long lawn chairs, most of which, at 11am, were already taken. We snagged the last of the low chairs from waaaay in the back and set them up at the side of the large pool in the middle of the scene. We said hello to our neighbors, a couple from Chicago handing out drinks to their friends basking in the sun or swimming at the side of the pool. They were also accompanied by a girl from Las Vegas in a large cowboy hat and a lovely woman in her 60's wearing a sun visor and a grin that stretched through years of oppression.
Set up at the head of the pool was a stage with delicious dancers and a large yellow tiger print banner naming the hosts of the party, Girlbar. Though that day there was a DJ spinning House beats from a small side tent, the stage would be filled throughout the weekend with dancers, MC's, and bands, one of which happened to be sitting directly to our left. That weekend we kept running into LA-based Corday everywhere we went. They rocked out on Sunday, but were basking in the sun in their tatoo's and mesh caps on Friday.
I stared, mouth open, at the thousands of women partying at the pool for at least an hour. I've never been in any place so stacked with estrogen. It was heaven! Or, if not heaven, then at least the L Word.
After pulling my jaw up off the ground, I joined a few ladies in the pool who were doing what they do best -- sports. Someone had brilliantly brought a small football to toss around and splash a few who were sitting on the sidelines. It was such a great way to break the ice, I thought about bringing one to dance parties! What a way to cut through expectation than to toss a nerf through a crowd of satin'd stiffs!
We enjoyed the pool for a few hours, chatting with our Chicago neighbors and drinking $9 red-bull vodkas. I wished I had snuck in the turkey sandwiches that I made in the morning. Our hunger finally pulled us away from the billions of bikini's and we wished our new friends fun for the weekend. I was sure to give my card to the girl in the cowboy hat, hoping for a lift to my next destination, Las Vegas, but not until after the weekend of mayhem was awash.
Stay Tuned for O Dinah, My Dinah, Part(y) II
He and his roommate Leanne met us at The Abbey in West Hollywood, a gorgeous posh and brick building on Robertson between Santa Monica and Melrose. PR Girl and I were already sipping on our second berry-based cocktails, the kind that come in long-stemmed martini glasses and just make fruits silly. After The Abbey we proceeded to an intimate loungy bar called East|West with couches and an outdoor patio (they all have outdoor patios). I love bars that feel like you are walking into a rich uncle's apartment loft. This one had an upstairs VIP room that looked out over the entire bar through an all-glass wall and a huge unisex bathroom downstairs. I remember there was a poor girl puking in one of the stalls and two friends helping her out. It was only Wednesday. My, did she have a long weekend ahead!
But then again, didn't we all?
I was up early again the next day and fully packed when DannyBSmooth picked me up to take me to my next destination of Palm Springs -- to be known that weekend as Pleasure Island. I was to attend the Dinah Shore Event, self-proclaimed as 'The Greatest Women's Weekend on Earth.' (They're not just a weekend anymore).
DannyBSmooth was conveniently heading for a (hetro) wedding, which gave us a full two hours to chat and share stories. He dropped me off at Desert Lodge, my new home for four full days of dykes, discos and debauchery. I had a few hours to unpack and start my blog about Venice Beach until the party girlz Mxxx and DJ Trinitron showed up at the Desert door from their long drive after flying into San Diego from Seattle.
After hello hugs and dibs on beds, we decided to tour around the area in the rental car in search of the non-northwest choke 'n puke, In-N-Out Burger. We found one way outside of Palm Springs and into Indio, where a few short weeks later I would be attending the Coachella Music Festival. After a tasty burger and greasy fries we found an organic grocery store to stock up our lil' fridge inside the hotel room. We didn't have a microwave or a coffee maker, but we made due with sandwich fixin's, spinach salads and the liquor store next to us that served a decent coffee roast.
We stayed in at the hotel the first night, chatting in the 24-hour hot tub for a while (which was actually more like the luke warm tub). I knew the two girls as acquaintances from out on the town in Seattle, specifically at Dollhouse where DJ Trinitron has been known to tear up the front room with her saucy selection of dance beats. And Mxxx, an aspiring DJ and long-time clubber, is always lighting up parties with her outrageous smile. I'm blessed to have really gotten to know the these amazing girls over this fantastical weekend of females and fun.
Friday morning we were up bright and early, ready to hit 1 of the 3 impending pool parties. Our first pool stop was the 'TGIF Pool Party' sponsored by GirlBar, the first of two outfits to throw parties during Dinah Shore Week. We walked into the Wyndham Hotel and stopped at a booth to pick up some passes for all the parties to be attended that weekend. Unfortunately, the mammoth 'All Event Pass,' which is the most cost effective (a ticket for the main event GirlBar party on Saturday is $90 alone!) had been sold out weeks before. Which meant in order to stay within financial reason, we had to force ourselves to stick with one group of parties and wouldn't be able to pick and choose from all of the above. We decided on the GirlBar EZ Pass, which we hoped would have a more inveigling effect on our evenings, but actually just gave us entrance into the 'Pure White' dance party on Friday, the 'Wet N' Wild Pool Party' on Saturday and the main event 'Masquerade Ball' on Saturday night.
Still, it was all worth it. After having our bags checked for liquids (including water), weapons and food, we strutted into the huge pool area packed with women of all shapes, sizes and priorities. There were bars located in every direction, entangled with small hot tubs and long lawn chairs, most of which, at 11am, were already taken. We snagged the last of the low chairs from waaaay in the back and set them up at the side of the large pool in the middle of the scene. We said hello to our neighbors, a couple from Chicago handing out drinks to their friends basking in the sun or swimming at the side of the pool. They were also accompanied by a girl from Las Vegas in a large cowboy hat and a lovely woman in her 60's wearing a sun visor and a grin that stretched through years of oppression.
Set up at the head of the pool was a stage with delicious dancers and a large yellow tiger print banner naming the hosts of the party, Girlbar. Though that day there was a DJ spinning House beats from a small side tent, the stage would be filled throughout the weekend with dancers, MC's, and bands, one of which happened to be sitting directly to our left. That weekend we kept running into LA-based Corday everywhere we went. They rocked out on Sunday, but were basking in the sun in their tatoo's and mesh caps on Friday.
I stared, mouth open, at the thousands of women partying at the pool for at least an hour. I've never been in any place so stacked with estrogen. It was heaven! Or, if not heaven, then at least the L Word.
After pulling my jaw up off the ground, I joined a few ladies in the pool who were doing what they do best -- sports. Someone had brilliantly brought a small football to toss around and splash a few who were sitting on the sidelines. It was such a great way to break the ice, I thought about bringing one to dance parties! What a way to cut through expectation than to toss a nerf through a crowd of satin'd stiffs!
We enjoyed the pool for a few hours, chatting with our Chicago neighbors and drinking $9 red-bull vodkas. I wished I had snuck in the turkey sandwiches that I made in the morning. Our hunger finally pulled us away from the billions of bikini's and we wished our new friends fun for the weekend. I was sure to give my card to the girl in the cowboy hat, hoping for a lift to my next destination, Las Vegas, but not until after the weekend of mayhem was awash.
Stay Tuned for O Dinah, My Dinah, Part(y) II
Saturday, April 12, 2008
Venice Beach and the LA Underground - Part II
The only appointment I had to keep on Saturday was a birthday dinner with Pete Spinning and Oh That Girl. Pete and Oh That Girl throw parties in LA and the surrounding desert under the moniker of Monkey-Do. I met them through Adlib, who booked Pete and Derek Andrew (a Monkey-Duo!) to play for us at our residency at Trinity Nightclub in Seattle. Since then the four of us have shared quite a few more events, including the uber successful (and coming again soon on June 20th - get your tickets, folks) outdoor camping, regional burn event and all-out extravagant Esthetic Evolution in Boise, Idaho. The quaint birthday dinner was timely to have landed on the week that I was in LA, both because it was a great space to become more acquainted with Pete and Oh That Girl as well as the fact that 1) Pete and Vivek's birthday are a day apart and 2) It was at an Indian Restaurant (Vivek's home country cookin) in Orange County. I take such coincidences as evidences that I am indeed in the right space and time. I find that when these such coincidences abound, things seem to slide into place like budda.
After chatty conversation and delicious Indian deserts, we decided to accompany Pete and Oh That Girl to an underground party in LA. Less like a rave and more like an underground House party, this was Doc Martin's renegade gala through his Label/Entertainment Crew Sublevel. The venue was at a surprising location -- a dance hall out in the Valley. The locale looked like an old event center that I would imagine my grandparents getting married in, very fifties-esque with all-white walls. We parked in a spot on the street and could hear the light thump thump thump of the music. We walked around front to a sign that said 'enter through back'. Of course! Renegade parties must maintain anonymity by diverting foot traffic and noise from the streets. We walked around back to a small courtyard with a lit image reflecting over the door. We were frisked at the entrance, our bags checked, licenses scrutinized and then were directed to the cashier with smiles. There we payed the $20 entrance fee and the nice woman asked if I would like to choose a trinket from the table. There were fun necklaces and rings. I decided on a yellow hard plastic ring with a tree painted on the inside, later recognizing the significance of the tree symbol for grounding during my travels (I've worn it most nights ever since).
The inside space was none-too-exciting, but what the party promoters did with the lights gave it quite the ring. It was almost completely dark and the light on the disco ball splashed halos around the room and ceiling in waves of white and colored lights. The dance floor was contained intimately around the DJ booth by keeping the Mackie speakers close to the front and back so it did not fill the room with music, but kept the best sound within 50 feet of the DJ. There were some lame chairs propped against the wall, so one could sit down if they needed to, but to be honest, the dance floor was a far more pleasing place to spend time.
I've always enjoyed watching Doc Martin throw down on his 4 turntables, and this night was no exception, especially since it was his own hometown at his own party. Something about his funk-ed up records really gets your tail moving, even after a previous all-night party. I started the night out sleepy and listless, thinking I would spend most of my time on the sidelines. But by 5am I was groovin' on the dance floor with everyone else. Doc is just that good.
By 5:30 we were wiped, so we gave our hugs to Pete and Oh That Girl, snapped a pic and headed home.
The next day we made sure to get up and moving to enjoy the best day of the week in Venice Beach. On Sundays the boardwalk is packed with tourists watching the local performance art or shopping at the flea market-like stands filled with everything from necklaces to cigarette holders, watches and music. Type 'Venice Beach performers' in google images and you will see photos of many of the artists that set up their stations on the walkway weekly. Each week a drum circle starts on the beach and grows until you can hear it up and down the seafront. We spotted a green tree fairy on stilts in the midst of other less decorated but still prominent freedom dancers.
We walked for a bit, enjoying the sun and cool breeze. Soon after, though, we headed back to Vivek's house to make some tacos and enjoy the home taste of Red Hook that he had installed in his self-made kegerator. I had invited many of the new friends that I was in contact with to dinner to share stories and get to know each other. There was Kristahn, a PR extraordinaire who had recently moved to LA from New York and her friend Earl Dax who was in town to produce performances of his piece 'Weimar New York' (featuring the urban-icon Penny Arcade and Justin Bond of Shortbus fame) at the Green Door in Hollywood. We also hosted Jeremiah, a writer/director from Seattle that is soon leaving for Thailand to shoot his film. We were all strangers, but also artists and professionals and the conversation surrounding us reflected as such, creating a comfortable harmony between us all.
Feeling full after my artesian dinner party, I was looking forward to a few languid days in Venice before heading off to an almost certain incontinence in Palm Springs. Monday and Tuesday consisted of laundry and lazy mornings. On Tuesday I also took the time to visit Gold's Gym which was walking distance from Vivek's bachelor pad. Not only was Golds great because it is also my gym and I could enjoy a workout for free, but because this is the very famous Golds Gym that the likes of Arnold Schwarzenegger (the actor, not the governor) was a member of during his days of bumming by the beach. While his original Golds is now closed, (the building still exists) the current gym is huge! It contained three rooms and an outdoor area set to Pump (clap!, point) you up. Most of its members were very very buff, especially the women. I was easily one of the thinnest ladies there which didn't really bother me for obvious reasons! I can see why so many great body builders frequented that gym. I thought the energy itself gave me more motivation to run and lift and pull and stretch. I felt great after my 2 hour workout, and when I looked in the mirror of the ladies locker room with my biceps held high, my muscles were indeed bulkier than 2 hours before. Magic!
I ended my Venice trip at Vivek's favorite burger joint down the street. After a full week of beach bummin', I was ready to head to the biggest female party in the U.S., set to start Wednesday night in Palm Springs.
More photos from Venice Beach and the LA Underground.
After chatty conversation and delicious Indian deserts, we decided to accompany Pete and Oh That Girl to an underground party in LA. Less like a rave and more like an underground House party, this was Doc Martin's renegade gala through his Label/Entertainment Crew Sublevel. The venue was at a surprising location -- a dance hall out in the Valley. The locale looked like an old event center that I would imagine my grandparents getting married in, very fifties-esque with all-white walls. We parked in a spot on the street and could hear the light thump thump thump of the music. We walked around front to a sign that said 'enter through back'. Of course! Renegade parties must maintain anonymity by diverting foot traffic and noise from the streets. We walked around back to a small courtyard with a lit image reflecting over the door. We were frisked at the entrance, our bags checked, licenses scrutinized and then were directed to the cashier with smiles. There we payed the $20 entrance fee and the nice woman asked if I would like to choose a trinket from the table. There were fun necklaces and rings. I decided on a yellow hard plastic ring with a tree painted on the inside, later recognizing the significance of the tree symbol for grounding during my travels (I've worn it most nights ever since).
The inside space was none-too-exciting, but what the party promoters did with the lights gave it quite the ring. It was almost completely dark and the light on the disco ball splashed halos around the room and ceiling in waves of white and colored lights. The dance floor was contained intimately around the DJ booth by keeping the Mackie speakers close to the front and back so it did not fill the room with music, but kept the best sound within 50 feet of the DJ. There were some lame chairs propped against the wall, so one could sit down if they needed to, but to be honest, the dance floor was a far more pleasing place to spend time.
I've always enjoyed watching Doc Martin throw down on his 4 turntables, and this night was no exception, especially since it was his own hometown at his own party. Something about his funk-ed up records really gets your tail moving, even after a previous all-night party. I started the night out sleepy and listless, thinking I would spend most of my time on the sidelines. But by 5am I was groovin' on the dance floor with everyone else. Doc is just that good.
By 5:30 we were wiped, so we gave our hugs to Pete and Oh That Girl, snapped a pic and headed home.
The next day we made sure to get up and moving to enjoy the best day of the week in Venice Beach. On Sundays the boardwalk is packed with tourists watching the local performance art or shopping at the flea market-like stands filled with everything from necklaces to cigarette holders, watches and music. Type 'Venice Beach performers' in google images and you will see photos of many of the artists that set up their stations on the walkway weekly. Each week a drum circle starts on the beach and grows until you can hear it up and down the seafront. We spotted a green tree fairy on stilts in the midst of other less decorated but still prominent freedom dancers.
We walked for a bit, enjoying the sun and cool breeze. Soon after, though, we headed back to Vivek's house to make some tacos and enjoy the home taste of Red Hook that he had installed in his self-made kegerator. I had invited many of the new friends that I was in contact with to dinner to share stories and get to know each other. There was Kristahn, a PR extraordinaire who had recently moved to LA from New York and her friend Earl Dax who was in town to produce performances of his piece 'Weimar New York' (featuring the urban-icon Penny Arcade and Justin Bond of Shortbus fame) at the Green Door in Hollywood. We also hosted Jeremiah, a writer/director from Seattle that is soon leaving for Thailand to shoot his film. We were all strangers, but also artists and professionals and the conversation surrounding us reflected as such, creating a comfortable harmony between us all.
Feeling full after my artesian dinner party, I was looking forward to a few languid days in Venice before heading off to an almost certain incontinence in Palm Springs. Monday and Tuesday consisted of laundry and lazy mornings. On Tuesday I also took the time to visit Gold's Gym which was walking distance from Vivek's bachelor pad. Not only was Golds great because it is also my gym and I could enjoy a workout for free, but because this is the very famous Golds Gym that the likes of Arnold Schwarzenegger (the actor, not the governor) was a member of during his days of bumming by the beach. While his original Golds is now closed, (the building still exists) the current gym is huge! It contained three rooms and an outdoor area set to Pump (clap!, point) you up. Most of its members were very very buff, especially the women. I was easily one of the thinnest ladies there which didn't really bother me for obvious reasons! I can see why so many great body builders frequented that gym. I thought the energy itself gave me more motivation to run and lift and pull and stretch. I felt great after my 2 hour workout, and when I looked in the mirror of the ladies locker room with my biceps held high, my muscles were indeed bulkier than 2 hours before. Magic!
I ended my Venice trip at Vivek's favorite burger joint down the street. After a full week of beach bummin', I was ready to head to the biggest female party in the U.S., set to start Wednesday night in Palm Springs.
More photos from Venice Beach and the LA Underground.
Tuesday, April 08, 2008
Venice Beach and the LA Underground - Part I
What is it about traveling that makes one stay up all hours of the night before they have to get up at the butt crack of dawn to catch a plane somewhere? For some unknown reason, Robb Green and I jetted all around San Francisco until 3 am on a Wednesday night -- along with many other people it seemed, because the bars were hoppin', despite the Wednesday factor. I was finally in bed at 3:30 and had to wake up at 6:30 to catch a plane to LA. Needless to say, I was pretty tired when I boarded the short flight. Having decided to leave on Thursday just two days before, I was lucky enough to snag the last seat on this flight and still use my Alaska Air miles. Yay for air miles!
I arrived at LAX at 9:30 am and caught a cab to Venice Beach where I was set to stay with Vivek, a friend I had met at the Seattle September Oktoberfest in Fremont (Washington). The cab driver was a little lost finding the spot. Once we eventually did, though, I realized that I should have given him these directions: Drive to the center of the Venice Beach boardwalk and go east one street. Because that is where Vivek lives -- virtually right on the beach!!
My timing was just right for Venice (also known as Muscle Beach), as his roommate Leanne was out of town until Monday morning. Thus, I was able to enjoy a room to myself for much of my time there. Alone time is quintessential for traveling, especially if one is an introvert like myself. I wheeled all my bags inside and crashed out in the luxurious all-white bed.
I napped most of the day until Vivek came home from work at 6pm. In fact, my entire time there consisted of so much sleeping that Vivek took to calling me 'Baby Jen'. I took it in stride, though, because sleeping is a healthy psychedelic experience.
One of my biggest lessons during my time as a traveler is to learn to ground, or find my center, regardless of where I am. I moved out of my apartment in North Seattle in March. Instead of finding a new home, I decided to store my possessions with various friends and carry my home in my heart. I'm literally homeless, but virtually rooted. I travel with a few items to lay out when I reach a new destination in order to help make every resting stop a cozy nest. One such item is a small portable altar with various trinkets to remind me of my intentions: A buddha (for wisdom), a rock from Masil's rock garden (for support), a Native American tile from Mel Sky (for vision), a blade shaped from glass (for security) and a teddy bear pin from my childhood (for playfulness). I also have two new ornaments that I have acquired from this trip: a bass guitar pik from the floor of Annie's Social Club and another rock from Venice Beach, reminders of all I've picked up along my way.
When Vivek arrived home from work we took a short walk to a restaurant down Pacific street to meet up with some of his other friends from Seattle that were in town. We played it pretty mellow that night, though, as I knew we would be going out plenty over the weekend. We watched Anchorman on his huge flat-screen TV and retired early.
Vivek and Leanne's shower is the best shower on the West Coast. It has two nozzles and hot water for well over 45 minutes. I know this because I stayed in there Friday morning with the rain-like water falling over me for almost 40 minutes. It was heavenly! After my shower, I enjoyed a leisurely morning of Pilates, breakfast and some light reading (I love the perks of the artists' lifestyle!). By afternoon I decided to hit the beach. I packed a bag and headed out to walk along the water and stare at the ocean. I hiked from the Northern most side of Venice along the water to both over and under the Santa Monica Pier. There were many couples, families and singles out enjoying the warm weather and bright sunshine. I wondered if every boardwalk in California hosted a roller coaster and I giggled when I saw a restaurant called 'Bubba Shrimp Co'.
I decided to return to Venice from Santa Monica on Pacific street instead of the Boardwalk. I passed shops and natural food markets. I stopped into The Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf whose ambiance was much better than their bean. I sat outside next to two gentlemen playing speed chess, read the LA Weekly and watched passer-bys, gaining a feel for the city, its people and its issues.
One noticeable thing about Venice Beach is the high population of Homeless people. They are generally peaceful hippie types that will do such things as help direct you out of your parking spot during times of high car and foot traffic. Once in a while they do get in fights and can be a bit loud at times, but after a while you become accustomed to their sleeping bags littering the streets with human lumps each night. When Vivek and I arrived home one night, two lumps were sleeping in the space between the car next to Vivek's parking spot. One sleepily moved his grocery bag out of the way as we parked and I hopped out the driver's side.
--
I was happy to have taken enough time to sleep and ground when I arrived, because the next three days would be action packed. I'm connected to a DJ that lives in Venice Beach named Dave Sweeten through a mutual affiliation called Dreemworld. He was holding an event that night called 'Demon Cleaner' at a secret spot somewhere in the city. There was no address posted. You had to call a phone number to receive the location of a downtown parking lot and wait for a shuttle that would take you to the destination. Wait a minute, you are saying, that sounds like a -- yes, a Rave! And old-fashioned secret-spot-abandoned-warehouse-renegade-rave, bespattered with Burning Man. I've always been more of a club kid than a Raver, but still, how fun! We reached the secret parking lot spot and climbed into the unmarked shuttle behind two burners dressed in goth-esque garments and white face paint. 'Wow', said Vivek, 'I didn't know it was a costume party!' At a burner-esque event, my virgin friend, anything goes.
The space was huge and decorated with couches and red lighting. There was a bar on one side of a wall and a DJ booth on the other. We headed over to grab a drink and say hello to the lovely and talented ladies dancing with hula hoops . Vivek jumped in showed us his hip shaker. He also found a scary mask to sport! But decided on a look that was far more fitting and fun. I said hello to Dave Sweeten and thanked him for the invitation. I was happy to see that another Seattle resident was at the party. Novatron was booked to play his 'serious sonic wizardry'. I spent some time chatting with him and getting to know him a little better, something that can be tricky to do when hosting parties in our shared city.
The party ended around 6 am and we piled into the shuttle to head home. After much hoola hooping, dancing and conversations with locals, Vivek's first Rave was a smashing success. So enjoyable, in fact, that he was ready to do it again the next night. Rockstar! I made sure to sleep most of the day to prepare myself for another all-nighter.
More pics from Venice Beach and the LA Underground.
Stay Tuned for 'Venice Beach and the LA Underground - Part II' !
I arrived at LAX at 9:30 am and caught a cab to Venice Beach where I was set to stay with Vivek, a friend I had met at the Seattle September Oktoberfest in Fremont (Washington). The cab driver was a little lost finding the spot. Once we eventually did, though, I realized that I should have given him these directions: Drive to the center of the Venice Beach boardwalk and go east one street. Because that is where Vivek lives -- virtually right on the beach!!
My timing was just right for Venice (also known as Muscle Beach), as his roommate Leanne was out of town until Monday morning. Thus, I was able to enjoy a room to myself for much of my time there. Alone time is quintessential for traveling, especially if one is an introvert like myself. I wheeled all my bags inside and crashed out in the luxurious all-white bed.
I napped most of the day until Vivek came home from work at 6pm. In fact, my entire time there consisted of so much sleeping that Vivek took to calling me 'Baby Jen'. I took it in stride, though, because sleeping is a healthy psychedelic experience.
One of my biggest lessons during my time as a traveler is to learn to ground, or find my center, regardless of where I am. I moved out of my apartment in North Seattle in March. Instead of finding a new home, I decided to store my possessions with various friends and carry my home in my heart. I'm literally homeless, but virtually rooted. I travel with a few items to lay out when I reach a new destination in order to help make every resting stop a cozy nest. One such item is a small portable altar with various trinkets to remind me of my intentions: A buddha (for wisdom), a rock from Masil's rock garden (for support), a Native American tile from Mel Sky (for vision), a blade shaped from glass (for security) and a teddy bear pin from my childhood (for playfulness). I also have two new ornaments that I have acquired from this trip: a bass guitar pik from the floor of Annie's Social Club and another rock from Venice Beach, reminders of all I've picked up along my way.
When Vivek arrived home from work we took a short walk to a restaurant down Pacific street to meet up with some of his other friends from Seattle that were in town. We played it pretty mellow that night, though, as I knew we would be going out plenty over the weekend. We watched Anchorman on his huge flat-screen TV and retired early.
Vivek and Leanne's shower is the best shower on the West Coast. It has two nozzles and hot water for well over 45 minutes. I know this because I stayed in there Friday morning with the rain-like water falling over me for almost 40 minutes. It was heavenly! After my shower, I enjoyed a leisurely morning of Pilates, breakfast and some light reading (I love the perks of the artists' lifestyle!). By afternoon I decided to hit the beach. I packed a bag and headed out to walk along the water and stare at the ocean. I hiked from the Northern most side of Venice along the water to both over and under the Santa Monica Pier. There were many couples, families and singles out enjoying the warm weather and bright sunshine. I wondered if every boardwalk in California hosted a roller coaster and I giggled when I saw a restaurant called 'Bubba Shrimp Co'.
I decided to return to Venice from Santa Monica on Pacific street instead of the Boardwalk. I passed shops and natural food markets. I stopped into The Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf whose ambiance was much better than their bean. I sat outside next to two gentlemen playing speed chess, read the LA Weekly and watched passer-bys, gaining a feel for the city, its people and its issues.
One noticeable thing about Venice Beach is the high population of Homeless people. They are generally peaceful hippie types that will do such things as help direct you out of your parking spot during times of high car and foot traffic. Once in a while they do get in fights and can be a bit loud at times, but after a while you become accustomed to their sleeping bags littering the streets with human lumps each night. When Vivek and I arrived home one night, two lumps were sleeping in the space between the car next to Vivek's parking spot. One sleepily moved his grocery bag out of the way as we parked and I hopped out the driver's side.
--
I was happy to have taken enough time to sleep and ground when I arrived, because the next three days would be action packed. I'm connected to a DJ that lives in Venice Beach named Dave Sweeten through a mutual affiliation called Dreemworld. He was holding an event that night called 'Demon Cleaner' at a secret spot somewhere in the city. There was no address posted. You had to call a phone number to receive the location of a downtown parking lot and wait for a shuttle that would take you to the destination. Wait a minute, you are saying, that sounds like a -- yes, a Rave! And old-fashioned secret-spot-abandoned-warehouse-renegade-rave, bespattered with Burning Man. I've always been more of a club kid than a Raver, but still, how fun! We reached the secret parking lot spot and climbed into the unmarked shuttle behind two burners dressed in goth-esque garments and white face paint. 'Wow', said Vivek, 'I didn't know it was a costume party!' At a burner-esque event, my virgin friend, anything goes.
The space was huge and decorated with couches and red lighting. There was a bar on one side of a wall and a DJ booth on the other. We headed over to grab a drink and say hello to the lovely and talented ladies dancing with hula hoops . Vivek jumped in showed us his hip shaker. He also found a scary mask to sport! But decided on a look that was far more fitting and fun. I said hello to Dave Sweeten and thanked him for the invitation. I was happy to see that another Seattle resident was at the party. Novatron was booked to play his 'serious sonic wizardry'. I spent some time chatting with him and getting to know him a little better, something that can be tricky to do when hosting parties in our shared city.
The party ended around 6 am and we piled into the shuttle to head home. After much hoola hooping, dancing and conversations with locals, Vivek's first Rave was a smashing success. So enjoyable, in fact, that he was ready to do it again the next night. Rockstar! I made sure to sleep most of the day to prepare myself for another all-nighter.
More pics from Venice Beach and the LA Underground.
Stay Tuned for 'Venice Beach and the LA Underground - Part II' !
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Cruz 'n Qool
Not so early Wednesday, Robb Green, Mosaic and I headed for a day trip to Santa Cruz. This peace loving town is a mere 1 hour from San Francisco (1 1/2 along the coast). I couldn't have picked a better week to be in the bay area. The sun's reflection on the ocean burned its border with the sky a brilliant blue.
Since Mosaic spent a few years as a resident in the town, his return was like a reunion around every corner. We met up with an old friend of his for some lunch at Charlie Hong Kong, an Asian outdoor diner with organic food so fresh I looked around to the back expecting to find its own sustainable garden. Yum! This was my first taste of this tender town, a hippie paradise tainted with tourists. After lunch we cruised the shops, passing by all of them except the town's three record stores. I purchased Hot Chip's new album 'Made in the Dark' in preparation for their performance at Coachella at the end of April. (The name, I found out through Remix Magazine is a tribute to the fact that many of the songs were made from their respective bedrooms). After a quick tour through the bustling outdoor market and snagging some taste tests, we rested at a one of the countless coffee shops carved from a huge victorian home complete with a gorgeous outdoor seating section. I love how so many restaurants, bars and coffee shops (and even fast food joints!) in California grant the luxury of lounging outdoors!
Once we were juiced up on caffeine, we headed to the boardwalk which was opportunely open for all the families enjoying a summery Spring Break. We passed through rides, arcades and greasy spoons to the lovely light sandy beach where said families were scattered in an array of idle. There we met up with more friends of Mosaic's who were chillin' with warm beers and a football that was one size smaller than the usual -- perfect for fitting my dainty hands. I tossed it around with the boys, wowing them with my spiral so unusually found from girls. (Until the Powder Puff revolution, of course -- or are we still waiting for that? Bring it on!)
As the sun started into the West-most part of the sky, we realized we should start the drive back to the city so I would be on time to show my not-so-hidden talent. I was set to play at 9pm at Qoöl, "an original clubbing happy hour in SF, if not the world. Every Wednesday evening, starting at 5pm, Jondi & Spesh host a five hour club night at 111 Minna in San Francisco. The music has a progressive theme, from prog house to breaks to techno and even drum 'n bass. Each dj plays a short 45 minute set, and the talent ranges from bedroom DJs to international supastars. Partygoers range from electronic music loving phreeks to unemployed dot-commers (not mutually exclusive), and the enthusiasm and dedication of Qoölios is world famous. In fact Qoöl is often pegged for its personal vibe and all out 'Saturday at 3AM' feeling. The door is only $5 and a good chunk of the proceeds go to non-profit organizations, including The SETI Institute and the San Francisco Homeless Coalition." Stoked to be part of Qoöl (via Qoöl Seattle), we followed the ocean back to the bay, grabbed my CD's back at the Casa and entered the Art Gallery at 7:41.
Despite the nearly 500 people that were crowding the bars and dance area, I was not very nervous for this gig. Since I had visited the venue back in December and already had a feel for the crowd, I had confidence that my new sound -- high-energy electro house blended with San Francisco's fascination for funky nu skool breaks -- was enough to keep the crowd at Qoöl from turning cold. The only cold I felt was the sweat on my back after my set was finished as I set out in the evening, my ears ringing from the booth monitors and my San Francisco support group -- Robb, Mugs, Chloe and Mosaic, by my side.
More pics from Santa Cruz and Qoöl.
Since Mosaic spent a few years as a resident in the town, his return was like a reunion around every corner. We met up with an old friend of his for some lunch at Charlie Hong Kong, an Asian outdoor diner with organic food so fresh I looked around to the back expecting to find its own sustainable garden. Yum! This was my first taste of this tender town, a hippie paradise tainted with tourists. After lunch we cruised the shops, passing by all of them except the town's three record stores. I purchased Hot Chip's new album 'Made in the Dark' in preparation for their performance at Coachella at the end of April. (The name, I found out through Remix Magazine is a tribute to the fact that many of the songs were made from their respective bedrooms). After a quick tour through the bustling outdoor market and snagging some taste tests, we rested at a one of the countless coffee shops carved from a huge victorian home complete with a gorgeous outdoor seating section. I love how so many restaurants, bars and coffee shops (and even fast food joints!) in California grant the luxury of lounging outdoors!
Once we were juiced up on caffeine, we headed to the boardwalk which was opportunely open for all the families enjoying a summery Spring Break. We passed through rides, arcades and greasy spoons to the lovely light sandy beach where said families were scattered in an array of idle. There we met up with more friends of Mosaic's who were chillin' with warm beers and a football that was one size smaller than the usual -- perfect for fitting my dainty hands. I tossed it around with the boys, wowing them with my spiral so unusually found from girls. (Until the Powder Puff revolution, of course -- or are we still waiting for that? Bring it on!)
As the sun started into the West-most part of the sky, we realized we should start the drive back to the city so I would be on time to show my not-so-hidden talent. I was set to play at 9pm at Qoöl, "an original clubbing happy hour in SF, if not the world. Every Wednesday evening, starting at 5pm, Jondi & Spesh host a five hour club night at 111 Minna in San Francisco. The music has a progressive theme, from prog house to breaks to techno and even drum 'n bass. Each dj plays a short 45 minute set, and the talent ranges from bedroom DJs to international supastars. Partygoers range from electronic music loving phreeks to unemployed dot-commers (not mutually exclusive), and the enthusiasm and dedication of Qoölios is world famous. In fact Qoöl is often pegged for its personal vibe and all out 'Saturday at 3AM' feeling. The door is only $5 and a good chunk of the proceeds go to non-profit organizations, including The SETI Institute and the San Francisco Homeless Coalition." Stoked to be part of Qoöl (via Qoöl Seattle), we followed the ocean back to the bay, grabbed my CD's back at the Casa and entered the Art Gallery at 7:41.
Despite the nearly 500 people that were crowding the bars and dance area, I was not very nervous for this gig. Since I had visited the venue back in December and already had a feel for the crowd, I had confidence that my new sound -- high-energy electro house blended with San Francisco's fascination for funky nu skool breaks -- was enough to keep the crowd at Qoöl from turning cold. The only cold I felt was the sweat on my back after my set was finished as I set out in the evening, my ears ringing from the booth monitors and my San Francisco support group -- Robb, Mugs, Chloe and Mosaic, by my side.
More pics from Santa Cruz and Qoöl.
Thursday, March 27, 2008
My West Coast Adventure Begins
My West Coast Adventure began last Thursday in my sister city, San Francisco. Robb Green picked me up at 6-ish at the Alaska gate and we headed back to the Casa in the Mission where Mugs was preparing some snacks for the party they were throwing that night. The party was the 3rd installment of Shameless' Adaptor, a filthy electro, techno, breaks and Drum 'n Bass night at Annie's Social Club. The best thing about Annie's is not it's co-owner/manager/bartender/poker dude Sean or its grimy punk rock attitude. Its the back VIP room, a perfect palace for an exclusive burlesque party... my favorite!
Adaptor was great fun to DJ. Robb and I tagged back and forth, setting the stage for Ding Dong, of Brass Tax and TANG! fame. Its was also a great meet up spot for all that were headed the next day on a short road trip for the weekend. We tooled around for a bit in the city on Friday before grabbing our gear and heading to Yosemite National Park for a relaxing weekend getaway.
Up in the mountains, Robb, Megan, Chloe and I stayed at the Redwoods in Yosemite. There we accompanied 12 other adult-kids, 5 actual-kids (all under the age of 10) and 4 dogs (the most mellow ones in the bunch) in two huge cabins with big kitchens and great stone fireplaces. Each night the moon was full enough to keep us captive and each morning there was a batch of bacon to bounce us out of bed. On Saturday many of us adult-kids headed up to hike to the top of Chilnuala Falls. This 9 mile round-trip hike was beautiful each step of the way. We took most of the afternoon to journey to the top, slowed only slightly by our oldest hiker, Sampson -- who is 98 years old!! In dog years, that is. Still, a 14-year old dog hitting a 9-mile hike is no small feet. Sampson receives the Rockstar Award! His legs were almost as sore as mine the next day, but the view at the top was well worth it. We dipped our cups into the crystal clear water, just run off from the last winter's snow. The journey down was far simpler, and back at the cabin we prepared a yummy steak dinner with salad and wine.
Easter Sunday we arrived back in the city early enough to enjoy the end of a day party in Golden Gate Park. The speakers had begun booming at 7am and DJ's spun tunes till sundown. We said hello to a few friends there and made our way down to Ocean Beach to catch the sunset. The sun was shining in the Sunset district, a sight none too common. After finding ourselves in awe of a new extreme sport called Kiteskating, we admired the rest of the sunset and headed to Haight to find some amazing Thai food.
The next few days Robb and I chilled and indulged in the entire first season of Dexter. We set off on Wednesday with Mosaic Santa Cruz to grab some rays before my gig at Qool. Then on Thursday, I'm off to Venice Beach, CA for the second leg of my West Coast Adventure.
View all my photos of San Francisco and Yosemite.
Adaptor was great fun to DJ. Robb and I tagged back and forth, setting the stage for Ding Dong, of Brass Tax and TANG! fame. Its was also a great meet up spot for all that were headed the next day on a short road trip for the weekend. We tooled around for a bit in the city on Friday before grabbing our gear and heading to Yosemite National Park for a relaxing weekend getaway.
Up in the mountains, Robb, Megan, Chloe and I stayed at the Redwoods in Yosemite. There we accompanied 12 other adult-kids, 5 actual-kids (all under the age of 10) and 4 dogs (the most mellow ones in the bunch) in two huge cabins with big kitchens and great stone fireplaces. Each night the moon was full enough to keep us captive and each morning there was a batch of bacon to bounce us out of bed. On Saturday many of us adult-kids headed up to hike to the top of Chilnuala Falls. This 9 mile round-trip hike was beautiful each step of the way. We took most of the afternoon to journey to the top, slowed only slightly by our oldest hiker, Sampson -- who is 98 years old!! In dog years, that is. Still, a 14-year old dog hitting a 9-mile hike is no small feet. Sampson receives the Rockstar Award! His legs were almost as sore as mine the next day, but the view at the top was well worth it. We dipped our cups into the crystal clear water, just run off from the last winter's snow. The journey down was far simpler, and back at the cabin we prepared a yummy steak dinner with salad and wine.
Easter Sunday we arrived back in the city early enough to enjoy the end of a day party in Golden Gate Park. The speakers had begun booming at 7am and DJ's spun tunes till sundown. We said hello to a few friends there and made our way down to Ocean Beach to catch the sunset. The sun was shining in the Sunset district, a sight none too common. After finding ourselves in awe of a new extreme sport called Kiteskating, we admired the rest of the sunset and headed to Haight to find some amazing Thai food.
The next few days Robb and I chilled and indulged in the entire first season of Dexter. We set off on Wednesday with Mosaic Santa Cruz to grab some rays before my gig at Qool. Then on Thursday, I'm off to Venice Beach, CA for the second leg of my West Coast Adventure.
View all my photos of San Francisco and Yosemite.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
NEXT GIGs: Adapter & Qool ~ both in SF!
Wed March 26 @ Qool Sf
Qoöl
Rock. Solid. Qoöl. Guests Marc Fong, Will Spencer, Hoj, Jen Woolfe (from Qoöl Seattle), with Spesh & Gil.
Every Wednesday from 5pm to 10pm
Minna Gallery, 111 Minna Street,
San Francisco, CA.
Reply to this Bulletin for Guest List!!
Thur March 20 @ Annie's Social Club
~AdApToR~Thurs. 3.20.08~Ding Dong, Robb Green, Jen Woolfe, DJJD
Hey there kats and dawgs, its another installment of the new *shameless* monthly AdApToR!!
This month we tune our dials in for some seriously funky house with a dash of other tasty musical morsels. Also this month we'll be drawing from both the long-distance as well as the local talent for your listening pleasure.
ChEcK iT oUt . .
3.20.08
shameless presents : AdApToR
Featuring:
Ding Dong (BtX, TANG!)
Jen Woolfe (Qool Seattle)
Robb Green (shameless)
DJJD (False Profit)
shameless . . .
Originally a crew from Seattle, shameless
is known and named for the party atmosphere they
create. Bringing a packed line up of floor shakers
into a new location for parties, this should
definitely not be missed. The shameless ethos of
‘leave your shame at the door and come to party” will
certainly be in effect.
SHAME OFF GAME ON
Happy Birthday Eunice!
10pm -2am ~ $5 @ the door
21 yrs. + only
Annie's Social Club (formerly Cherry Bar)
917 Folsom St (@ 5th St.) in San Francisco
mailing list: simply.shameless.sf@gmail.com
Qoöl
Rock. Solid. Qoöl. Guests Marc Fong, Will Spencer, Hoj, Jen Woolfe (from Qoöl Seattle), with Spesh & Gil.
Every Wednesday from 5pm to 10pm
Minna Gallery, 111 Minna Street,
San Francisco, CA.
Reply to this Bulletin for Guest List!!
Thur March 20 @ Annie's Social Club
~AdApToR~Thurs. 3.20.08~Ding Dong, Robb Green, Jen Woolfe, DJJD
Hey there kats and dawgs, its another installment of the new *shameless* monthly AdApToR!!
This month we tune our dials in for some seriously funky house with a dash of other tasty musical morsels. Also this month we'll be drawing from both the long-distance as well as the local talent for your listening pleasure.
ChEcK iT oUt . .
3.20.08
shameless presents : AdApToR
Featuring:
Ding Dong (BtX, TANG!)
Jen Woolfe (Qool Seattle)
Robb Green (shameless)
DJJD (False Profit)
shameless . . .
Originally a crew from Seattle, shameless
is known and named for the party atmosphere they
create. Bringing a packed line up of floor shakers
into a new location for parties, this should
definitely not be missed. The shameless ethos of
‘leave your shame at the door and come to party” will
certainly be in effect.
SHAME OFF GAME ON
Happy Birthday Eunice!
10pm -2am ~ $5 @ the door
21 yrs. + only
Annie's Social Club (formerly Cherry Bar)
917 Folsom St (@ 5th St.) in San Francisco
mailing list: simply.shameless.sf@gmail.com
A Previous Paradigm
I would like to share with you some writings from my past. I've been reading my journals from the time I left college until now. Following my path of growth is fascinating! The entries I am going to share with you are from summer of 2000. These are blogs before blogging was born. The Internet was but a baby. Its a time in my life where I realized I was embarking on a new paradigm. Not the one I just finished, but the one before that. Its just after I started partying and just before I started to become a DJ. Far before Burning Man or the Leschi Lounge, or even Jen Woolfe. I was 25. I had a degree, a career, a sex life, great friends, a cat, my own place. I was forming my first true identity.
Early June, 2000
------------------------------
'Isn't it crazy how some things never change?
Here I am, two weeks shy of 25 years old, and I'm still drawing the same doodle-boy that I drew when I was 16. Sure, he looks a little different: different hair, different grin, different style of clothes. But still the same doodle.
Has my doodle gotten an wiser over 10 years? I know now from my 10 years of doodle experience where to start the line for the neck, the tuft for the hair, the lift of the ears. I know how to cover up my doodle mistakes. I still make them, of course. But are they less noticeable? Less careless? Less important?
My doodle is still a simple idea. It sill follows the same simple goals. Two googly eyes, a button nose, a long face.
No smile today.
Simple clothes and simple jeans.
No shoes today. To show off his cutsie toes.
Is my doodle me? Have I changed? Or am I the same? Following the same scratchy lines, matching the same ideals, wearing the same simple look on my face?
Each day a little different. A little less. A little more... doodley.'
------------------------------
This next "blog" references many of the girls and boys that I been in varying degrees of relationships with and how much I learned from them. I was completely unattached, as I am now. I was what Iyanla Vanzant would refer to as 'In the Meantime'. I was comfortable with that, but curious. I was reflective but diffident. I was about to embark on a cozy relationship with the Soccer Star, but I didn't know it. I was also about to find my passion in music, my Destiny, something I had longed for, also unknowingly. Maybe something I had longed for even more than love. For I always knew that somehow I would find love, perhaps even over and over. But Destiny? I doubted, at the time, that I could be so blessed. [I've added some notes and aliases to protect those who have not opted into a cyber presence].
July 3, 2000
------------------------------
'So I guess I have a lot to talk about -- more than I thought I did. A lot of huge things are happening - a paradigm - and I almost didn't notice. Its so funny how some things don't change. I still go into a super-hip coffee shop and feel like a dork. I'll probably never get it right.
Today's the kind of day where I need a haircut. Its a gorgeous day in Seattle. The air is moderately warm, the sky is gray. I left the house wearing a sweater, no hat, and sandles, braving the idea that there's a 50/50 chance of rain. The day is good: somber, mellow, the fresh scent of weed tickling my nostrils (along with my cat). Next door to the Still Life [an old cafe that is now closed] (where I exuded idiocy in front of a gorgeous girl with spiky-purple hair) they are building a condominium. Fremont is pissing patchouli. This hippie town was happier hiding in the hairy armpits of downtown, unnoticed. Things were good until they made the mistake of building the best parade in the city [the annual Solstice Parade]. Big business noticed this treasure and built a software shop across from the Natural Market -- then Seattle in the 21st Century was born. My favorite billboard, "You don't have to be a 23 year-old C.E.O. of a software company to buy a home". Yeah, right.
So I guess I have a lot to talk about (but I'm not saying any of it). I wonder if I could be the writer I always dreamed I could be. So many story's main characters are writers. That bores me.
So I'm thinking of dating a guy. There's some hotties here, pseudo-naturale-hiker-skater types. H-O-T. Too bad when I kiss them it feels numb.
I spent all weekend with the Soccer Star and I really liked it. We are reaching the "I really like to hang out with you so I must be attracted to you" stage. She's cute as shit. But I feel like dating her would be pushing me into a 'Type B' relationship. I've had them before: My Harmless High School boyfriend, the Adorable Irish Boy, the Bionic Chic. Secure. Charming. Passionless. This is the type of relationship I imagine having if you out-live the love of your life. Many people get into relationships like these, marry, and are moderately happy. But they don't grow.
The fear is that people [i.e. me!] are afraid that there won't be more. Like that relationship is the last chance. If I give up this Type B relationship, will I ever get the chance for a Type A relationship again? And, if I take the Type B relationship, will I be giving up the Type A relationship forever? I guess the real question (or the real challenge) is, Will there always be an inevitable Type A? Or is there only one Type A ever? I've already proven that wrong, as my First Love was a definite Type A [meaning I'd already had one Type A relationship and knew there would be more to follow especially since my First Love was not a woman].
Type A relationship -- True Love. You know, one of those people floating around the world whose soul's are connected, in love, with yours. Before you ever meet (if you ever meet), you are automatically connected, soul to soul, in life (and possibly death) and even more possibly, life again.
Bionic Chic said something interesting about our connection. She said she felt we were old soul mates, like we were together in the past and no longer need each other, at least in this life. Its funny to think that I was dreaming of my first sex [with a woman] on the bus going to softball games (and tennis matches) and she was right there, sitting less than 10 feet away from me [it didn't happen until 6 years later]. How amazing that our souls follow each other so closely.
I run into The Climber frequently [a short-lived but passionate fling]. I always look for her, though I know I shouldn't. Last Tuesday I got off the bus one stop early, honestly to save time waiting for an eternal red light. There she was, boyish and beautiful, smiling at me with crystal green eyes. I haven't seen her since. We had shared a few short moments of romantic bliss. I hold tightly to the sensation of her frail body leaning against mine, listening to Natalie Merchant, feeling the loud beating of my heart, fully-fullfilled. I had given The Teacher [a romantic but toilsome relationship] Natalie Merchant, to help her live life. I gave her 'Live is Sweet'. I wanted her to know this feeling [my bad habit of projecting, as I'm completely ignoring the fact that I learned it, too]. She does. She did. She learned. She found beauty. And now she no longer needs me. So I left.
I told The Climber that I was tired of always being the one to teach people shit. I told her this as I handed her "The Celestine Prophesy" and gave her positive words to help her find her path. I did so selfishly, secretly wanting her path to lead to me. That wasn't true for everyone. I knew most of their paths were not towards me. I hoped as much. Maybe I manipulated them in an opposite direction. Maybe I led the the wrong way. But I don't think so.
I handed The Climber that book, knowing it may be the last thing she needs from me before moving on. I may never run into her on the street again. I may never see her smiling secretly at me again. I need to let go so it doesn't hurt anymore. If I let go, I can continue to the next phase - mine. Building me. Learning about me. Living with me. When people ask me about how I like living by myself, I tell them that its lonely. But is it really lonely? Or am I lonely? And how can I teach myself to enjoy that feeling of being only with me? Of being alone? Am I really alone if I am here?
I suppose I'm never alone, as long as I'm always with me. And I never seem to leave, as much as I want to. Probably because I don't really want to. I like it here. With me.'
------------------------------
I realized that all my life I had always looked forward to the time I would be 25. In high school, even college, I always wanted to be 25. And I was there. I had made it. I also realized that I needed to sit back and enjoy the me I had created. So maybe that's where I also am now: two paradigms, two long-term and many short but sensational relationships later, about to embark on a new re-design of me. Sitting atop a tree of experience, of artistic and emotional work, of a new and brilliant sense of self. No attachments (except to my tree).
July 12, 2000
------------------------------
The sky is soaring,
High above the clouds.
My heart rests
Beside a pale moon.
I Stop,
Take a deep Breath
Of the Ocean,
Refill my lungs with Life,
Vibrant, fresh.
I look upon Myself
From the Treetops,
Wink and tip my Hat.
My crystal eyes Sparkle
From below.
My Soul is Smiling.
Early June, 2000
------------------------------
'Isn't it crazy how some things never change?
Here I am, two weeks shy of 25 years old, and I'm still drawing the same doodle-boy that I drew when I was 16. Sure, he looks a little different: different hair, different grin, different style of clothes. But still the same doodle.
Has my doodle gotten an wiser over 10 years? I know now from my 10 years of doodle experience where to start the line for the neck, the tuft for the hair, the lift of the ears. I know how to cover up my doodle mistakes. I still make them, of course. But are they less noticeable? Less careless? Less important?
My doodle is still a simple idea. It sill follows the same simple goals. Two googly eyes, a button nose, a long face.
No smile today.
Simple clothes and simple jeans.
No shoes today. To show off his cutsie toes.
Is my doodle me? Have I changed? Or am I the same? Following the same scratchy lines, matching the same ideals, wearing the same simple look on my face?
Each day a little different. A little less. A little more... doodley.'
------------------------------
This next "blog" references many of the girls and boys that I been in varying degrees of relationships with and how much I learned from them. I was completely unattached, as I am now. I was what Iyanla Vanzant would refer to as 'In the Meantime'. I was comfortable with that, but curious. I was reflective but diffident. I was about to embark on a cozy relationship with the Soccer Star, but I didn't know it. I was also about to find my passion in music, my Destiny, something I had longed for, also unknowingly. Maybe something I had longed for even more than love. For I always knew that somehow I would find love, perhaps even over and over. But Destiny? I doubted, at the time, that I could be so blessed. [I've added some notes and aliases to protect those who have not opted into a cyber presence].
July 3, 2000
------------------------------
'So I guess I have a lot to talk about -- more than I thought I did. A lot of huge things are happening - a paradigm - and I almost didn't notice. Its so funny how some things don't change. I still go into a super-hip coffee shop and feel like a dork. I'll probably never get it right.
Today's the kind of day where I need a haircut. Its a gorgeous day in Seattle. The air is moderately warm, the sky is gray. I left the house wearing a sweater, no hat, and sandles, braving the idea that there's a 50/50 chance of rain. The day is good: somber, mellow, the fresh scent of weed tickling my nostrils (along with my cat). Next door to the Still Life [an old cafe that is now closed] (where I exuded idiocy in front of a gorgeous girl with spiky-purple hair) they are building a condominium. Fremont is pissing patchouli. This hippie town was happier hiding in the hairy armpits of downtown, unnoticed. Things were good until they made the mistake of building the best parade in the city [the annual Solstice Parade]. Big business noticed this treasure and built a software shop across from the Natural Market -- then Seattle in the 21st Century was born. My favorite billboard, "You don't have to be a 23 year-old C.E.O. of a software company to buy a home". Yeah, right.
So I guess I have a lot to talk about (but I'm not saying any of it). I wonder if I could be the writer I always dreamed I could be. So many story's main characters are writers. That bores me.
So I'm thinking of dating a guy. There's some hotties here, pseudo-naturale-hiker-skater types. H-O-T. Too bad when I kiss them it feels numb.
I spent all weekend with the Soccer Star and I really liked it. We are reaching the "I really like to hang out with you so I must be attracted to you" stage. She's cute as shit. But I feel like dating her would be pushing me into a 'Type B' relationship. I've had them before: My Harmless High School boyfriend, the Adorable Irish Boy, the Bionic Chic. Secure. Charming. Passionless. This is the type of relationship I imagine having if you out-live the love of your life. Many people get into relationships like these, marry, and are moderately happy. But they don't grow.
The fear is that people [i.e. me!] are afraid that there won't be more. Like that relationship is the last chance. If I give up this Type B relationship, will I ever get the chance for a Type A relationship again? And, if I take the Type B relationship, will I be giving up the Type A relationship forever? I guess the real question (or the real challenge) is, Will there always be an inevitable Type A? Or is there only one Type A ever? I've already proven that wrong, as my First Love was a definite Type A [meaning I'd already had one Type A relationship and knew there would be more to follow especially since my First Love was not a woman].
Type A relationship -- True Love. You know, one of those people floating around the world whose soul's are connected, in love, with yours. Before you ever meet (if you ever meet), you are automatically connected, soul to soul, in life (and possibly death) and even more possibly, life again.
Bionic Chic said something interesting about our connection. She said she felt we were old soul mates, like we were together in the past and no longer need each other, at least in this life. Its funny to think that I was dreaming of my first sex [with a woman] on the bus going to softball games (and tennis matches) and she was right there, sitting less than 10 feet away from me [it didn't happen until 6 years later]. How amazing that our souls follow each other so closely.
I run into The Climber frequently [a short-lived but passionate fling]. I always look for her, though I know I shouldn't. Last Tuesday I got off the bus one stop early, honestly to save time waiting for an eternal red light. There she was, boyish and beautiful, smiling at me with crystal green eyes. I haven't seen her since. We had shared a few short moments of romantic bliss. I hold tightly to the sensation of her frail body leaning against mine, listening to Natalie Merchant, feeling the loud beating of my heart, fully-fullfilled. I had given The Teacher [a romantic but toilsome relationship] Natalie Merchant, to help her live life. I gave her 'Live is Sweet'. I wanted her to know this feeling [my bad habit of projecting, as I'm completely ignoring the fact that I learned it, too]. She does. She did. She learned. She found beauty. And now she no longer needs me. So I left.
I told The Climber that I was tired of always being the one to teach people shit. I told her this as I handed her "The Celestine Prophesy" and gave her positive words to help her find her path. I did so selfishly, secretly wanting her path to lead to me. That wasn't true for everyone. I knew most of their paths were not towards me. I hoped as much. Maybe I manipulated them in an opposite direction. Maybe I led the the wrong way. But I don't think so.
I handed The Climber that book, knowing it may be the last thing she needs from me before moving on. I may never run into her on the street again. I may never see her smiling secretly at me again. I need to let go so it doesn't hurt anymore. If I let go, I can continue to the next phase - mine. Building me. Learning about me. Living with me. When people ask me about how I like living by myself, I tell them that its lonely. But is it really lonely? Or am I lonely? And how can I teach myself to enjoy that feeling of being only with me? Of being alone? Am I really alone if I am here?
I suppose I'm never alone, as long as I'm always with me. And I never seem to leave, as much as I want to. Probably because I don't really want to. I like it here. With me.'
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I realized that all my life I had always looked forward to the time I would be 25. In high school, even college, I always wanted to be 25. And I was there. I had made it. I also realized that I needed to sit back and enjoy the me I had created. So maybe that's where I also am now: two paradigms, two long-term and many short but sensational relationships later, about to embark on a new re-design of me. Sitting atop a tree of experience, of artistic and emotional work, of a new and brilliant sense of self. No attachments (except to my tree).
July 12, 2000
------------------------------
The sky is soaring,
High above the clouds.
My heart rests
Beside a pale moon.
I Stop,
Take a deep Breath
Of the Ocean,
Refill my lungs with Life,
Vibrant, fresh.
I look upon Myself
From the Treetops,
Wink and tip my Hat.
My crystal eyes Sparkle
From below.
My Soul is Smiling.
Friday, March 14, 2008
10 Things I Hate About Me
Expectational
Manipulative
Self-Sacrificing
Projectory
Make Assumptions
Judgmental
Passive Aggressive (Indirect)
Controlling
Dishonest (especially with myself)
Bad Breath Between my Teeth
Don't worry, I'm not hating myself. I'm loving myself, all parts of me. Even the ones that I don't want. That's why I'm writing this, because in order to get rid of these traits, I must first know about them. Willingness to reach inside of yourself and pull up the garbage takes incredible strength and character and I know that. But man, its tough, TOUGH to see the dark parts of yourself. A friend - and healer - gave me a book to read that has been monumental in finding traits that I want to distinguish and cycles that I indulge in that cause them to surface. Its called In the Meantime by Iyanla Vanzant and I recommend it like I recommend The Four Agreements.
Cycles. They're like riding a bike. After nearly four years of being in a relationship, the minute I become single again, I fall back into the cycles I had back when I was 28. But I'm very different than I was back then, and those behaviors no longer represent who I am today. They don't fit. Wait, don't get me wrong, the 10 Things I Hate About Me do fit. Its the behaviors that revolve around them that are unbecoming. As I watch myself perform them, I feel appalled, embarrassed, ashamed.
But I can't take all the credit for the 10 Things. Its learned. Not entirely from my parents, but much.
You spend your 20's undoing all the things your parents did to you.
You spend your 30's undoing all the things their parents did to them.
My childhood was amazing and I'm blessed with three parents who love and support me no matter what. And they broke cycles, many cycles, just like I'm breaking the cycles that they didn't know about and that I picked up from others along the way. And despite standing just above a water of depression and indulging in an increased desire to drink, I realize that the time that comes just after ending a long-term relationship is a blessing. And being single is a blessing, just like being in a relationship is a blessing. Because its the best time to open the blinds to your own self and start the process of throwing away those things that you no longer need.
Some things are easy to get rid of (flossing more would greatly benefit my morning breath). Some things, like being dishonest with myself, are harder to see. I think of two more things The Healer told me.
One is that there are 4 levels of change.
Level 1: You don't know that you have something you want to change.
Level 2: You know you have something you want to change, but can't see when you are doing it. Level 3: You know you have something you want to change, can see when you are doing it, but you can't stop yourself from doing it.
Level 4: You know you have something you want to change, you see yourself doing it and you make the CHOICE not to do it. So much about cycles is understanding when you have the choice and then exercising it.
The second thing The Healer said that I hear in my mind almost weekly is 'Show compassion for yourself'. I am learning, growing, feeling. I'm am human, flawed, but I'm open and willing and I must give myself room to grow and the support I need to work through it. And so, its not 10 Things I Hate About Me, its 10 Things I Have About Me that I no longer have the desire to keep.
Manipulative
Self-Sacrificing
Projectory
Make Assumptions
Judgmental
Passive Aggressive (Indirect)
Controlling
Dishonest (especially with myself)
Bad Breath Between my Teeth
Don't worry, I'm not hating myself. I'm loving myself, all parts of me. Even the ones that I don't want. That's why I'm writing this, because in order to get rid of these traits, I must first know about them. Willingness to reach inside of yourself and pull up the garbage takes incredible strength and character and I know that. But man, its tough, TOUGH to see the dark parts of yourself. A friend - and healer - gave me a book to read that has been monumental in finding traits that I want to distinguish and cycles that I indulge in that cause them to surface. Its called In the Meantime by Iyanla Vanzant and I recommend it like I recommend The Four Agreements.
Cycles. They're like riding a bike. After nearly four years of being in a relationship, the minute I become single again, I fall back into the cycles I had back when I was 28. But I'm very different than I was back then, and those behaviors no longer represent who I am today. They don't fit. Wait, don't get me wrong, the 10 Things I Hate About Me do fit. Its the behaviors that revolve around them that are unbecoming. As I watch myself perform them, I feel appalled, embarrassed, ashamed.
But I can't take all the credit for the 10 Things. Its learned. Not entirely from my parents, but much.
You spend your 20's undoing all the things your parents did to you.
You spend your 30's undoing all the things their parents did to them.
My childhood was amazing and I'm blessed with three parents who love and support me no matter what. And they broke cycles, many cycles, just like I'm breaking the cycles that they didn't know about and that I picked up from others along the way. And despite standing just above a water of depression and indulging in an increased desire to drink, I realize that the time that comes just after ending a long-term relationship is a blessing. And being single is a blessing, just like being in a relationship is a blessing. Because its the best time to open the blinds to your own self and start the process of throwing away those things that you no longer need.
Some things are easy to get rid of (flossing more would greatly benefit my morning breath). Some things, like being dishonest with myself, are harder to see. I think of two more things The Healer told me.
One is that there are 4 levels of change.
Level 1: You don't know that you have something you want to change.
Level 2: You know you have something you want to change, but can't see when you are doing it. Level 3: You know you have something you want to change, can see when you are doing it, but you can't stop yourself from doing it.
Level 4: You know you have something you want to change, you see yourself doing it and you make the CHOICE not to do it. So much about cycles is understanding when you have the choice and then exercising it.
The second thing The Healer said that I hear in my mind almost weekly is 'Show compassion for yourself'. I am learning, growing, feeling. I'm am human, flawed, but I'm open and willing and I must give myself room to grow and the support I need to work through it. And so, its not 10 Things I Hate About Me, its 10 Things I Have About Me that I no longer have the desire to keep.
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