DaLovin' Dj

Off Book

dalovindj@hotmail.com — Mon, 14 Apr 2003 19:21:27 GMT

Tomorrow is our first rehearsal and the director wants us all off book. I'm not even close. That gives me about 24 hours to really nail this script down. I've had the script for a couple weeks but time has been in short supply. I was going to hit it hard this weekend, but I hooked up with a cutie I've been seeing, spackled and sanded the walls in our newly constructed studio, watched the first season of The Shield on DVD, and played Star Wars video games all weekend instead. Ooops. I always do it this way. Wait till the last minute. We have something like 3 weeks of rehearsal so I am in no way worried, but I'd like to get off to a good start with the director.

I'm sitting here at work on a (fortunately) very slow day. They are supposed to have some work for me in a few hours, so I have to sit around waiting with nothing to do. Perfect opportunity to memorize the lines. I've been doing it for about an hour, and the stuff I had memorized 20 minutes ago is escaping me. Break time. It is good to focus on something else for a period and then dig back in. The brief break allows the brain a moment to absorb what it has been learning. Thus this entry. I'd love to be reading threads over on the SDMB or reading some news articles but I opted for a journal entry instead.

My brother just turned 18 a couple of days ago. He was a bit of a dork growing up but he has turned into one very cool young man. He is smart, capable, and funny. I always used to hide around corners and scare the shit out of him when we were growing up. I'm nine years older than him and when he would whine I would have to stay home to play with him. So I made playtime a neverending game of hide-and-scare. Cracked me up at the time. Now that he is a young adult he decided it was time for payback. As we were leaving my dad's house one night when I was home for Christmas, he hid behind the door and jumped out yelling, successfully scaring the shit out of me. He laughed his ass off and said "Just think, you got to scare me for 10 or 11 years. Now you've got a whole lifetime of payback ahead of you. Hope it was worth it." He has become a worthy opponent. He later took me in arm wrestling. Kid is getting big and I love him. He emails me for advice on women and dealing with an over-protective mom. He learns quick and has some really interesting things to say about the world and his goals. Good to see him becoming a fine young man. He's much less of a degenerate then myself at that age. He still has time, but, he drinks one of those new Zima clone sugary drink things when he wants to get drunk. I was onto real beer by the time I was 17. He just may avoid becoming the booze-hound that his brother is at that rate (I drink daily). He is looking forward to going to some place called "Coyote Ugly" with buddies this week in KY (where he lives) It is a titty bar he tells me. Makes the heart all warm and fuzzy. I just may shed a tear.

Anyway, back to memorizing. It's like school all over again. Got a day to memorize what should take weeks. I'm pretty good at last minute cramming though. I'm making up some index cards to cheat with at the first rehearsal just in case. They said "mostly off book" so I figure they won't mind.

"Memory is the greatest of artists, and effaces from your mind what is unnecessary."
~ Anonymous

DaLovin' Dj

dalovindj@hotmail.com — Mon, 07 Apr 2003 15:10:02 GMT

Snowing in New York again. You think Pucette is going to explode? How much are we supposed to get from this storm? I don't watch the local news because it makes me ill. I keep expecting the Fox Problem Solvers to take it to the next level and start beating the shit out of the people they expose. They've got 'em all wearing black now, like some sort of media mafia. Idiots. So I forsake the whole damn thing but I miss local weather as a tradeoff . . .

In other news they recast the play I am in (where I was supposed to play an autistic kid) and made me a lead. Hooray! While I was looking forward to the challenge of playing something so extreme, the role they gave me is on stage pretty much the whole time and has tons of lines. It's a 50-minute one act about a few Southern people called "Deep in the Jeeps of Georgia". It was in the Fringe festival a couple of years ago and the guy who played the autistic character (known as "not right in the head Fred") in the original run will be returning. The other lead will be played by a friend of mine who is great to work with. We've never had much stage time in a show together so I'm really digging this.

The girls in the cast are real sweet-hearts. I know them all because the same folks who produced the last show I was in are producing this one. Different director and writer. 3 of the actors in this one were in the last show. What a great cast that was. After years and years of doing theater I've come to expect some bitches (male & female) backstage. In some sub-set of the whole Jane Goodall primate group theory (alpha-males etc.) is "The Theater Cast". Typically you can find at least one diva type personality. One sarcastic cynic. One "I'm too good for this" type. One or two can be worked around, but if you get a bunch of em all being negative at once they can really take the fun out of a show. This last cast was the exact opposite. All professional, funny, and friendly people. Very pleasant. That's not to say that we weren't all smart asses to each other (you have to stay sharp after all). It was a cast that lacked any real drama queens. A refreshing experience. We ran that one for about 3 months so it is a good thing too. The girls they picked for "Jeeps" are very kind souls. It will be a pleasure to work with everyone involved including the director. A woman in her 50's who has been doing theater forever. She has vision and a good heart (I'm speaking to talent here - not her medical status!).

"The stage is not merely the meeting place of all the arts, but is also the return of art to life."
~ Oscar Wilde

DaLovin' Dj

Willard. Beware: Spoilers

dalovindj@hotmail.com — Thu, 27 Mar 2003 18:47:12 GMT

I just saw Willard yesterday. Very dissappointed in Willard's behaivior towards Big Ben. What was so wrong with him? Why you gotta make Socrates the man and diss the obviously equally smart Big Ben? Let Ben sleep with you too. Favoritism is ugly.

Some guy was cracking jokes in the back of the theater, which usually annoys the shit out of me. This time, however, the guy's comic timing was terrific. His commentary really made the movie alot more fun for me. When Willard first lies down in bed with Socrates and looks at him lovingly as they are about to go to sleep, the guy behind me goes "Damn, it's gonna be a tight fit . . ." Sophmoric yes, but the way Willard was looking at the mouse it just cracked me up. The guy was black and when they reveal that Socrates is the super smart rat that teaches all the others, he comments "Oh, how come the smart one's gotta be white?" Funny, but he had a point. Willard is prejudiced against black rats.

Anyway, instead of the rats being super smart, I walked away feeling like willard had some sort of psychic power over the rats. He could communicate with them I think, rather then them being smart enough to understand him. I think he controled them with pyschic powers, and Big Ben's looking down on him and trying to be domineering (like his boss) was really just an expression of Willard's own subconcious projected onto these rats (Ben becomes his boss - alway watching, always controlling, always critical). Due to his mutant power, the rats act out Willard's own psyche (and all the accompanying baggage) at no fault of their own. They are a slave to his animal-control powers (which I don't even think WIllard realizes he has). I wouldn't have suspected any of this were it not for the last scene where he summons another white rat in a totally different location (different group of rats).

Overall, decent, but the guy behind me really made it alot more fun . . .

dalovindj@hotmail.com — Thu, 20 Mar 2003 21:33:02 GMT

I got off of work early yesterday and decided to take a much-needed nap. I'd been up spinning all night, and then had to be at work pretty early. Usually an afternoon nap makes me feel great. Not this time. I had a nightmare. A very realistic nightmare. It started off as a fun dream. Some of my friends and I were at a bar drinking and dancing and singing. The vibe was good. We were having fun. Then I felt a rumbling. A large noise I instantly new to be an explosion. I ran out into the street and looked up Park Avenue (which lets you see about 50 blocks or so up from Union Square). There, coming from midtown, I saw a wall of light rising to twice the height of the Empire State building. People started screaming as they realized what was happening - a nuclear explosion. The wall of light rushed towards me destroying everything in its path.

My first thought was to run, but it was coming too fast. The whole thing seemed 100% real to me. I remember my dream self thinking:

"So this is how you die. In a damned nuclear attack on New York."

Right as the wall was about to hit me I thought to myself:

"The only chance I have is if this is a dream . . ."

Now, I've realized I'm dreaming before, and usually I love it. I try to stay asleep and control what is happening or take advantage of the fact that my actions won't have any consequences. This was different. I really didn't think I was dreaming. I started muttering to myself "Wake up . . . WAKE UP!!! COME ON!!! WAKE UP!!!". Just as the wall was about to hit me I shot up in bed. I was pulled awake and the sensation was as if someone had hit me. I was sweating, my heart was pounding, and I totally freaked out my cat. I have never had a dream so awful in my life. I looked over at the clock. It was a couple of minutes past 8:00 - Bush's deadline for Mr. Hussein. Bizarre timing.

Shaken, I took a shower and changed into some street clothes. I left my Brooklyn pad to go meet a couple friends for a drink and some dinner. On the way into Manhattan, the train stopped in the tunnel for about 10 minutes. I started to get really nervous. I was sure something had happened. Then when I got out of the subway there were all of these workers with masks on and alot of signs warning about asbestos. Outside of the station (Union Square L train) were a bunch of trailer trucks with plastic and duct taped sections that warned of asbestos. I'm not sure what they were doing, but it seemed really strange. I realized I was damn near a panic.

I'm usually pretty calm and collected. Quick on my feet and I like to think I'm ready for most challenges that will come my way. I have no idea why my mind was so fucked last night. All I can say is that on that first day of war, I was anything but happy or relieved. I was a mess. The terrible vision I had in my dream better stay there. I don't think I could deal with seeing that again. Don't know if I could convince myself it's a dream again. I hear if you die in your sleep you really die. Probably not true, but I'm not sure cause I've lived through all my dreams (with a couple of close calls. Here's hoping nothing like that ever really happens . .

"For in that sleep of death, what dreams may come."
~Hamlet

DaLovin' Dj

Bike Messengers are Crazy!

dalovindj@hotmail.com — Mon, 17 Mar 2003 21:36:50 GMT

As I was taking a break, I just saw this guy on a bicycle get ever-so-slightly tapped by a cab in front of my office building. The biker swerved, tried to gain control, and then took one of the worst falls I've ever seen. Jesus, that looked like it hurt. He got up and limped away with his bike so I guess he couldn't have been too badly injured (or just doesn't know it yet). The cabbie just kept going like nothing happened. I've always thought guys on bikes get a little to cocky in this city. If you hit a car, odds are the car is going to win. You would think this simple fact was top secret the way some of these guys get so aggressive on their wheels. I feel a little guilty, because I cracked up as soon as I saw that he could get up. Kind of really funny in that "Americas funniest home video" dad-takes-a-baseball-to-the-groin way. Not funny in that I'm sure he was in alot of pain. Why do humans tend to find the pain of others funny (Jackass anyone)?

One time a few years ago I was crossing the street at 23rd and 5th Avenue at dusk and the lights were with me so I crossed. I looked and didn't see any cars. As it turns out there was a guy on a bike wearing black who had blended right in and I stepped right in front of his path. He was going really fast. He couldn't change course. He screamed out at the last minute and I took a quick step forward, but only my lower body got out of the way. The result was a kind of full upper-body clothes line. My body stayed firm and he went flying off his bike. It took him a minute to get up, and I tried to help him, but he shrugged me off, got up and was VERY pissed. I apologised (even though he had blown off the traffic lights) and walked away while he was screaming at me. I could easily see a situation like that coming to blows if it had been someone else.

Tough town to ride a bike . . .

dalovindj@hotmail.com — Mon, 17 Mar 2003 19:12:43 GMT

Link-a-licious on the pimp daddy gig tip.

dalovindj@hotmail.com — Mon, 17 Mar 2003 18:25:05 GMT

Wow. Girl Dj's kill it. I met this super hot chic dj from Cali last night (at a party I shouldn't have been at - I hurt today at work, I mean HURT!)and I couldn't be more impressed. She quoted obscure Tribe Called Quest lyrics off hand. She thinks dancehall reggae is the sexiest stuff on the planet. She can do shots of the hard stuff without so much as blinking. She hates outfits that don't show off her very trim stomach. Ladies that hot shouldn't even be legal.

She made a joke about how far the Beastie Boys have come. "Boy, how much their message has changed . . ." she pointed out. We talked about the fact that they now have an anti-war song (off the upcoming new album) on their web site. I was loving her all the way and then she sent me over the top when she said "They used to 'Fight for the right to party' and now they 'Fight to stop the Right party'". Clever girl. Nice play on words there.

She is supposed to come by on Tuesday to the gig (daddy couldn't have picked a better week to be on a cool double bill). I got the digits, baby. I figure I wait six days to call unless she comes by on Tuesday and then I'll give it two days from then . . . or was it two and THEN six . . . ehhhh . . . make it 7 days.

"And to a party, a house party. Oh let the people just rally round me, and love, we send a message of love. . ."
~ Sublime

Logic

dalovindj@hotmail.com — Fri, 14 Mar 2003 16:27:44 GMT

Whassup. Been a while since I've made an entry. I've been spending my online time hitting the dope pretty heavy lately. Anyway, I'm trying very hard not to do the happy dance all across this investment bank. I just got booked to play another gig with DJ Logic. If you haven't heard Logic's albums you are definitely missing out on some great music. The man has a gift for composing brilliant musical tapestries. The way he uses the turntable is quite musical in nature as opposed to aggressive dominating scratching. That is to say that he appreciates subtleness when playing with live musicians. He doesn't try to be the driving force unless it is appropriate. When it makes more sense to just accentuate, he does. He writes many songs and his work on the decks is sublime without being overbearing. It's not really hip-hop he plays (usually), as much as funk/jammy stuff with a little latin flavor mixed in. Dope. Even if they don't typically like DJ's most people dig his stuff when I play it. He has made a reputation for himself by jamming with alot of bands that you wouldn't associate with Dj's such as Martin, Medeski, & crew, some of the guys from the Allman Brothers, and alot of NYC local jam masters.

He once played with a bluegrass band at "The Jammies", a yearly award ceremony held here in NYC which celebrates the best jam bands of the year. He also recently started an eclectic sounding band called "Yojimbe Brothers" with the lead guitarist from the band "In Living Color". Yojimbe, by the way, is a natural herb that is supposed to give you long lasting sexual inspiration. Or so they say . . . He has another band he works with called "Project Logic" that features some VERY talented musicians. To sum up: he is versatile, talented, prolific, and successful as a solo Dj as well as part of a band. The Dj's dream come true.

Next Tuesday, there is going to be a post-Alllman show (they are playing the Beacon) party at a place called Mod. Dj logic is going to be playing the downstairs room, and yours truly is going to be playing the upstairs room. That's right. A double bill with me and Mr. Logic. Booya. Daddy's happy. I've opened for him before, and he has even used my decks. But this time the credit isn't "Opening for", the flyers read "Dj Logic & DaLovin' Dj". Equal billing. Fuck yeah. Of course, I am not worthy, the man is a master. However, I rock a party fairly nice and it feels good to be playing the same club at the same time.

Anyway, if any NYC folks want to come by, here is the info for the gig:

THG would like to invite you to a super special after Allman Brothers party on Tuesday March 18th featuring DJ Logic (downstairs) and DaLovin'DJ (upstairs) @ MOD (formerly The Venue) located at 505 Columbus Ave. Between 84th & 85th
11:30pm-4am
$5

As you can see, it will be a late party, and I'll be hurting the next day at work, but it is well worth it. Lovin' it.

In other news, I'm building a video editing and dubbing studio, I'm doing a play on Saturday nights (3 more left in the run), I just got cast in another play that goes up in May where I play "Not right in the head Fred" - an autistic kid from the south. I've never played a retard before so I'm looking forward to making autism my own. I don't want to be a Dustin Hoffman rip-off. Romantically, I'm single with some good prospects. Overall? I'm happy and tired. Busy as hell but in all good ways. Life is good. I'll sleep when I'm dead.

DaLovin' Dj

dalovindj@hotmail.com — Tue, 03 Dec 2002 15:09:14 GMT

Damn, it is COLD today. I heard on the elevator that it is about 20 degrees below the normal temperature for this day. Sucks. Just being outside hurts. The price for living in the Northeast. Make-you-hate-the-sky type of frigid winds riping between buildings while knocking the warmth right out of your soul. Brrrrrrr.

Q. What do you get when you cross an Eskimo, a hooker, and a homeless person?
A. A snow blower that doesn't work.

~ Joke I made up in the seventh grade

dalovindj@hotmail.com — Mon, 02 Dec 2002 19:57:54 GMT

Man, maybe it's cause I'm so tired, but in my never-ending search for cool quotes, I just found a bunch of Dan Quayle quotes and I am cracking up over here. Some highlights:

"Welcome to President Bush, Mrs. Bush, and my fellow astronauts."
~
"I have made good judgements in the Past. I have made good judgements in the Future."
~
"We're all capable of mistakes, but I do not care to enlighten you on the mistakes we may or may not have made."
~
"What a waste it is to lose one's mind. Or not to have a mind is being very wasteful. How true that is."
~
"We're going to have the best-educated American people in the world."
~
"For NASA, space is still a high priority."
~
"I stand by all the misstatements that I've made."
~
"I am not part of the problem. I am a Republican."
~
"Verbosity leads to unclear, inarticulate things."
~
"People that are really very weird can get into sensitive positions and have a tremendous impact on history."
~

Hope you kids enjoy that stuff as much as I do!

DaLovin' DJ

dalovindj@hotmail.com — Mon, 02 Dec 2002 18:32:15 GMT

I stayed up ALL NIGHT playing GTA: Vice City. 14 straight hours. God, I'm stupid. I'm starting to halucinate. Of course there is NO WORK right now, they will wait until I'm supposed to leave and hit me with a few hours.

In other news I'm in the most unhealthy relationship I've ever known and can't figure out how to get out (or if I even want to). My refrigerator is broken. My laundry is winning. I'm really digging Peter Tosh lately and alot of Augustus Pablo too. Scripts are in various states of incompletion. Christmas: coming quick. Family and old flames typically involved.

Conclusion?

Life is humming along at a steady clip with no hint of where it all leads and lots of distractions. Plenty of fun and plenty of work. A good amount of frustration and a reasonable amount of utter calm. Some days I feel like Jeckyl and Hyde. Not enough sleep. . . .

When I woke up this morning my girlfriend asked me, 'Did you sleep good?' I said 'No, I made a few mistakes.'

~ Steven Wright

My First Friday Five

dalovindj@hotmail.com — Fri, 22 Nov 2002 21:08:17 GMT

1. What talents do you possess that you're not using?
I am an amazing Backgammon player yet have no opponents. I'm not bad at chess either. All the other stuff (acting, djing, computer skills, procrastination) I use daily.

2. What qualities do you possess that people like?
Comedic timing is what I get the most. The girl I've been kind-of-dating recently listed what she loves about me. The biggest one was that I have an "intense" personality (For some reason us getting into fights and me screaming at the top of my lungs and getting into a blind rage turns her on. Becuase other then those moments - which are way to common - I'm pretty chill.) She also said I have a strange love and limitless affection . . . for cats.

3. What qualities do you possess that people dislike?
Smart ass. Easily dismiss people or subjects that I am not interested in. I usually say what is on my mind: good or bad.

4. If you could trade places with another LJer, who would it be and why?
Right now? Nymysys. I'm hating my corporate job now as they are making me work way more hours than agreed. Throwing some drinks sounds like heaven compared to ONE MORE DAMN EXCEL SPREADSHEET.

The Meaning of Life

dalovindj@hotmail.com — Wed, 06 Nov 2002 22:06:53 GMT

I have always wondered what the meaning of life was, but I never knew it would be this easy. Punched the question into google and found this handy FAQ. I must say I agree pretty strongly with these guys. This is linked to on that page, and it gives a better technical (and political) description of where they are coming from.

Lacking a belief in any kind of after life I find that:

1. An end to pain, suffering, & death
2. A dramatically increased intelligence
3. Establishment of subjective immortality

to be the best possible goals for us as a species. I welcome the Singularity. I just hope they are able to upgrade us classic models.

"I have had it. I have had it with crack houses, dictatorships, torture chambers, disease, old age, spinal paralysis, and world hunger. I have had it with a planetary death rate of 150,000 sentient beings per day. I have had it with this planet. I have had it with mortality. None of this is necessary. The time has come to stop turning away from the mugging on the corner, the beggar on the street. It is no longer necessary to look nervously away, repeating the mantra: "I can't solve all the problems of the world." We can. We can end this.

And so I have lost, not my faith, but my suspension of disbelief. Strange as the Singularity may seem, there are times when it seems much more reasonable, far less arbitrary, than life as a human. There is a better way! Why rationalize this life? Why try to pretend that it makes sense? Why make it seem bright and happy? There is an alternative!

I'm not saying that there isn't fun in this life. There is. But any amount of sorrow is unacceptable. The time has come to stop hypnotizing ourselves into believing that pain and unhappiness are desirable! Maybe perfection isn't attainable, even on the other side of Singularity, but that doesn't mean that the faults and flaws are okay. The time has come to stop pretending it doesn't hurt!"
~ Eliezer S. Yudkowsky

DaLovin' Dj

dalovindj@hotmail.com — Wed, 06 Nov 2002 21:02:39 GMT

Why should I make my LJ account a paid account?

Sweet Dreams Are Made of These

dalovindj@hotmail.com — Wed, 06 Nov 2002 18:33:29 GMT

I was talking with this girl at a party a couple nights ago and the Dj threw on the old Eurythmics track "Sweet Dreams". I love the song (I have it on vinyl), but I never spent too much time thinking about the lyrics. The girl I was chatting with said that when she was a kid she thought the song was really bad & evil. I asked why. She said because it used words like "abuse" and "use" which her childhood psyche new to be bad things. I asked her if she liked it now that she was an adult. She shrugged and said it sounds good. I asked her if she still thought the overall message was negative, she said she didn't really know.

So I started to analyze the song, which I had never done. In the end I decided it is a positive song, although one with a warning. Here are the lyrics. I think the song is saying that no matter what type of person you are, no matter what your desire and fantasy may be, there is someone out there in the world who will oblige you.

It also seems to warn that some will try to fuck with you and offers encouragement in the face of such - "Keep your head up - Movin' On". Yeah. It's a nice message. Reminds me of the movie "Secretary" - it seems dark and brooding on the surface, but it is really about finding happiness and a soul mate.

"Persons attempting to find a motive in this narrative will be prosecuted; persons attempting to find a moral in it will be banished; persons attempting to find a plot in it will be shot."
~ Mark Twain (The Adventures of Huck Finn)

DaLovin' Dj

dalovindj@hotmail.com — Mon, 04 Nov 2002 19:32:23 GMT

Fun weekend. I checked out the new band Yojimbe Brothers (go here and click the Yojimbe Brothers flash movie - cracked me up) at the Tribeca Blues club. This is the new Vernon Reed (In Living Color) and Dj Logic (Project Logic) vehicle. Funk reggae, hip-hop, and hard-core stone-cold rockin' tracks. Reed's got mad skills on that damn guitar. Their lead vocalist had this crazy gizmo in front of her. She was sampling, tweaking and manipulating any sound they made including her own voice. Sick. The future of electronics and music is going to be amazing. Already the product Final Scratch allows you to map any MP3 or .wav file onto a real vinyl record. The result: you can scratch (analog) any sound ever, even if it is digital in nature and has never been released on vinyl. I imagine the whole rig becoming virtual and a haptic glove and display glasses plus a hard drive full of songs, thus allowing a virtual turntable to appear and feel like it is floating in front of you. This will be good. That analog gear is cool, but mad heavy.

Also checked out this band Lava Baby at the Continental. Cool girls rock band with a chip on their shoulder. I dug. Then I had another 3' O'clock High (all ages matinee rock show my company puts together). We guaranteed the headliner band too much, but they were a really good ska-core band from Boston. Most of the kids there were around 15 and bustin out in a little dance party. Brought back some memories. Fun stuff. My time flows back and forth between music and acting. I'm heavy in a music vibe these days.

"One good thing about music, when it hits you you feel no pain." - Bob Marley

DaLovin' Dj

dalovindj@hotmail.com — Mon, 28 Oct 2002 18:28:52 GMT

What a weekend. Saw a great concert at BB Kings. Michael Franti w/ Spearhead. Always a political new-wave hippy type of show, they were pimping Amnesty International and non-sweatshop hemp t-shirts. Extracurriculars helped make the music great. By about 2:00am I was in a cab heading down to the 10th anniversary of one of my favorite bars. I've been going to this joint for 7 years and there were ALOT of ex-bedmates up in that piece. Damn. There were 5 girls who were all giving me the signals, and 3 of them just came straight out and said that I should come to their house as they left. Felt nice, but in the end I said no to all except one.

This is a girl I've been kind of dating. I don't really respect her that much and she can be really annoying. What we have going for ourselves is good old fashioned physical passion. We have some of the best sex I've ever had. We can't stop fighting until we start making out and then we can't stop that either. We do alot better just hooking up at the end of the night at one or the others apartment then we do at going to dinner and a movie or some shit. The longer we talk the more likely we are to get into an argument. We are both pretty nice to look at, so neither one of us usually has a problem getting laid. Sometimes I think the only reason we hang out with each other as much as we do is because we are jealous of what the other might do if we don't. Not the best grounds for a relationship. Rocky mother fuckin' road sometimes. The only thing we do well is fight and fuck. It's been about 6 months of that. Off and on up and down. It is a relationship made up of extremes. Extreme anger and extreme pleasure. I go from wanting to say fuck the whole thing to wanting nothing more then to see her.

The jealousy was heavy at the party. There were alot of people she had slept with there as well. In the end I met her at her house and we had some serious fun. She got up to go to work and I slept in at her house. Got up around one, had a couple corn dogs at the street fair that had set up outside her apartment. Went and ran some errands, got some new records, went home, packed up my gear, and headed to the Halloween party.

Jesus Christ what a party. Started at about 10:00pm and went till about 11:00am with Daylight savings time. 14 hours or so. I was on my feet for most of it. Hella dance party got goin around 4:30. Some crazy cats from some other party wheeled in a couple giant cans of Nitrous w/ some balloons and the party got thick. A hundred drunk, whacked out partiers dancing to the likes of Sublime, Biggie, Horace Andy, Tribe, Jurassic 5, UB40, Eminiem, Big Tymers, BDP & KRS-One, Easy-E, NWA, Tone Loc, a bunch of other hip-hop, some miscellaneous dub and dancehall tracks and a few funky classics. A high point was when I played "Play that funky music white boy". I'd cut off the sound when it got to the chorus and the whole crowd screamed those words at me. Nothing like being a white boy Dj and having the kids scream that particular line. I was fucked up and the whole thing felt great. Plus I made a few hundred bucks.

Now I am sore from carrying all that gear and standing so long. I've barely gotten over this weekend. Great time. Good for the soul. Back to reality.

"The bars are always open and the time is always right. If god's good word goes unspoken then the music goes all night." - Brad Nowell

DaLovin' Dj

dalovindj@hotmail.com — Sat, 26 Oct 2002 05:02:30 GMT

love and politics. fuck. not the best mix.

The Winds

dalovindj@hotmail.com — Fri, 25 Oct 2002 15:53:21 GMT

No matter how comfortable you are, no matter how good things seem to be, disaster is potentially forever around the corner. I'm really enjoying my life now. I'm generally a happy guy. Wasn't always the case (by far) so it's kind of like an accomplishment. I realized a long time ago that you can not control what happens to you, you can only control how you react to what happens to you. Tornados will come into your life from time to time and turn everything to shit. You cannot stop them no matter how much time and planning you put into buffering yourself. The universe will bend only so far toward our will.

To deal with this particular truism I have come up with a fairly successful strategy. When things are at their worst, when life sucks, when my mood is terrible, I take a deep breath. Maybe a couple. I try to let everything that has happened to me and everything that will happen to me fade out of my mind. I focus in on only the information my senses are sending me at this one moment. Then I force myself to find one beautiful thing within my field of awareness. It may be a shaft of light hitting a seat on a bus or the swaying motion of the train as I go to and from work. It may be a cloud, or it may be a pretty girl's laugh. I focus on that one thing and try to feel it's beauty without relation to the rest of my life, past or future. Then I try to be grateful. Grateful for the gift of perception, for the chance to have experienced even that one beautiful thing, if only for that moment. Then I take another deep breath and come back to reality, usually a little more calm and a little more centered.

Life, not to be undone, throws Hurricanes to notch your Tornado busters. I have practiced this technique quite a bit and have gotten really good at it. My goal is to be calm and centered no matter how tumultuous things get around me. Still, it can be hard sometimes. Into my calm pond dropped the following rocks from the sky yesterday:

- The mother of 2 good friends has a clogged artery in her neck. Surgery and disfigurement (giant scar) are a must.

- One of the brothers found out he has a hernia and needs to have an operation on his nuts. A couple days later he started fainting. They don't know if the fainting is psychosomatic or if something worse is wrong. As a result he will not even be at the 10 year anniversary party of the bar he OWNS tonight.

- A girl that I know and used to date - wonderful girl,we are on good terms - has a mother in the hospital perched on the verge of death. She is trying to convince her mother to stay in the hospital. She doesn't want to die anywhere but in her own home. Rough.

- Another friend (another ex on good terms) calls a few hours after I hear these pieces of news and tells me she just found out one of her best friends has terminal cancer.

- The cool cat at one of the bars I went to drink (my other spiritual technique) away some of these revelations just had his nuts clipped. Now I know spaying cats is a good thing, but the poor little guy was not feeling good at all.

So life wants to play a little, huh? All right. Find the beautiful thing. Be grateful. There you go. Let beauty and apprecitation flow through you and return to this world calm and clear. Feel better? Yeah, actually. Feel ALOT better . . . . Uh oh. . . What's that? Something is wrong? What is that terrible feeling? Is that . . . guilt?

Life has a new counter weapon. Now, for the first time being able to make myself feel better made me feel guilty. Why should I be able to get myself smiling and humming when all this fucked up shit got said to me inside of a few hours? Maybe you shouldn't ALWAYS be able to just relax and make yourself happy. You hear that? It is guilt, isn't it? Fuck. Does it just make me insensitive if I can maintain happiness no matter what? Or does it just make me realistic? You know, why sweat what you can't change? I don't know. I just wish everyone weren't so damn sick.

I think I'm going to start putting quotes after every entry.

"Happiness is nothing more than good health and a bad memory." ~ Albert Schweitzer

DaLovin' Dj

dalovindj@hotmail.com — Thu, 24 Oct 2002 14:54:52 GMT

I think I may be moving back to Manhattan next month. I've lived in Brooklyn for almost 3 years now. I'm ready. I'll have to get use to a smaller amount of space. I've got like 1000 square feet right with 20 foot ceilings now, plus a 300 square foot deck. I should be able to get a nice shoebox somewhere in Manhattan for the same price.

This weekend is going to be HARD. But good hard. Tonight I have to go out to NJ to pick up some amps and speakers a friend lets me use for big parties. Then I have to haul em down to the John Street bar in prep for Saturdays halloween party. Friday night I am going to see Spearhead at B.B. Kings (for free! with backstage passes!) followed by a trip to McSwiggans on 2nd Ave. This place is the best Irish dive bar in NYC. It's their 10 year anniversary and they will probably go real late for old times sake. The next day I have to start spinning at 10:00pm and won't stop really for 14 or 15 hours. Then I have to run up to Tobacco Road on Sunday from 3:00-7:00pm because my production company puts on all ages indie rock concerts on Sunday afternoons. Daddy's gonna be FUCKED up! Monday is gonna suck.

The price we pay for acting like rock stars but keeping the job part . . .

dalovindj@hotmail.com — Wed, 23 Oct 2002 21:13:03 GMT

Grrrr. They're keeping me late today. My boss is with other high level kids and they are trying to decide which 40% of the staff to let go and how to split up the remaining accounts between whoever is left standing. It's brutal around here these days, but as always, my slacker ass is impervious. I really don't understand how someone with such a shitty work ethic can be so consistantly employed. They let me come in at 10:00ish and I was an hour past that today. they don't say anything as long as I finish the work they give me before I leave. Some days I get out at 2:00. It looks like it'll be more like 9:00 tonight. The price I pay for flexibility is that sometimes it goes the other way.

Anyway, friends and I were laying odds for the world series last night. We were giving 100,000 to one that the taco bell thing gets hit (the one that results in Taco Bell giving a free taco to every American who goes to their stores on a specific day) and 1,000,000 to one that an earthquake hits. We couldn't decide what the odds should be for both occuring. Should we let them box such a bet? Let them call the richter scale numbers and make it a Trifecta? Who says we have gambling problems?

Gramps is in town

dalovindj@hotmail.com — Wed, 23 Oct 2002 19:27:12 GMT

My grandfather came to town this weekend. He lives in a rural part of Washington State called Forks, WA. The closest McDonalds is 60 miles away to give you an idea of how isolated this place can feel. Forest country. Lumberjack country. Spotted owl country. He comes to stay with my mother in NJ for about a month once or twice a year. He is 75 years old. He has all his facilities and likes to help my mother with her yardwork. He moves slow but looks good for an old man.

I have recently watched the PBS documentary "New York". It's a wonderful piece that covers the history of this beautiful city from it's origins as a Dutch trading settlement (after Henry Hudson found this perfect natural harbor), right up through the civil war, into the age of the car, and right through to modern day. Fascinating stuff, really. What struck me the most was how hard life was for most of the immigrants who lived here. Horrific tenements and slave like work conditions for the most menial of jobs, the worst sides of capitalism were hammered upon these people. Luckily, things have changed and something was done (tenement laws, labor laws - it took riots and disaster to implement change, but it came). I never really understood just how hard life had been for these people and just how much they had to struggle. I found it inspiring and at the same time heart-wrenching.

As a result, for the first time in my life I have begun to be curious about my heritage. I had always known it was English/Irish but I had never sought out specific knowledge. So when Gramps flew in last Saturday we all went to the Outback Steak House in New Jersey and I grilled him. It was a very interesting conversation. First we ordered 22oz. Foster's in chilled mugs, a blooming onion, some shrimp, a couple steaks and some ribs. Then I asked him who my ancestors were and how they got to America. My grandfather took a sip of his beer, said he wanted to talk about it, but that it would take a while so he wanted to piss first. He excused himself.

When he walked away my mother leaned over to me and said "Good luck getting a straight answer." She told me that it's a source of embarrasment to the old-timers. Really? Yep. Turns out no one wants to admit to being Irish. When my mother was a little girl and had asked my grandmother who her ancestors were she replied "Horse thieves. Now shut up and eat your dinner." When the Irish immigrants first came to this country they were hated and looked down upon by everybody - slaves included. They were considered the lowest of the low. There were signs in windows that said "Irish need not apply." They were stereotyped in the media of the time as big loud drunken idiots. They were given the worst jobs and the worst housing. During the Draft Riots, the Irish took to the streets and nearly burned the city to the ground for weeks. Anyone who could pay $300 could get out of the draft for the civil war. The Irish immigrants were poverty stricken and refused to die while the wealthy bought their way out. During the riots the mob would scream "There is a $300 man! Get him!". Eventually soldiers, fresh from the hell that was Gettysburg, flooded into the city and regained control. Ever since, the Irish voice has been one that must be considered by the leaders of New York (and America). Within 100 years they would have an Irishman (JFK), in the most powerful position in the country.

As long as I've been alive I have perceived the Irish to be a proud and beautiful people. Watching that documentary was the first time I had been made aware of the racism and hatred they had faced when they first arrived here. And now here was that same hatred built in to my own family history. It went from a documentary to the living flesh in front of me. My mother suspected I may not be able to get a straight answer out of my grandfather. My mother, it turns out, underestimated the power of 66 ounces of Australian beer.

Basically, it boils down to this. My grandfather is of English decent. Or so the family has always insisted. But it turns out that my Grandfather's Great Grandfather was something of a "black sheep' in that he was an Irish Catholic who fell in love with an English Methodist girl. To get the girl he had to agree to convert to Methodist and tell everyone that he was English. Apparently he made up a story about having been in the British Navy to tell the public and satisfy the in-laws. My mother's mother's people lived in Northern Ireland. So they were Irish? No! my grandfather insists. They were Scottish in Ireland. Oh. But they were born, raised and died in Ireland? Yes. But they weren't Irish. They were Scottish folks in Ireland. On my fathers side of the family it is mostly Scottish. So it looks like I'm a mix of alot of Scotts, a good dose of pure Irish, and a healthy amount of English.

My grandfather has always been a paranoid racist. I used to get mad at him for it, but know I try to look past it to hear what he knows. I know he is foolish for being so prejudiced against the Irish, the blacks, the mexicans. Whatever. He is a product of his times. I'm not going to change his views. I may as well learn what I can from him while I still have the chance. Whenever me or one of his children confront him about his racist views he just gets mad, yells a bit, and then stops talking. What can I do? What should I do? For the first time I let him talk without expressing verbally any kind of judgements. He had alot of interesting things to say when I kept him comfortable. The price for hearing these tidbits is putting up with his ignorance.

His Irish Grandfather was a draftsman who traveled around the Country and ended up in Lynn, Massachusetts. He then sent for his English wife and children, and my family has been in New England ever since to some extent. Whether he likes it or not his name (my mother's maiden name) is Mahon. This is the name of a town in Ireland. He and I are largely of Irish decent. I don't care if it embarrases him, it makes me proud. I want to have a similar conversation with my dads mother (the one I affectionately call Granny) in Kentucky this Christmas.

If there is anything I learned during that dinner it's that I'm going to need a proper kilt . . .

DaLovin' Dj

New York New York It's a Helluva Town!

dalovindj@hotmail.com — Tue, 22 Oct 2002 18:15:25 GMT

Allow me to continue my personal myth . . .

Ever since I was about 5 I wanted to act professionally. I have been in every school play they would let me near. Between the ages of 7 and 16 I must have been involved in 50 or so plays at the New England schools I attended.

By the time I was 16, I must admit, I had become a bit of a cocky trouble-making punk (shocker, I know). This tendency towards mischief was not an expression of anger, nor was it done with the hopes of making things worse. What I'm saying is that it was a positive type of troublemaking. I was in it for a good time. I wanted to make others (and myself) laugh and smile. I would forsake the rules and buck authority if I thought I could get a laugh. Practical jokes and pranks were my forte and I had many a conversation with teachers and principals about using my powers for good instead of evil. I always figured they just were using the wrong definition of good. This troublemaking was an extension of the desire to perform. The same things that made me want to get on stage made me want to crack smart-ass jokes in class. I guess you could say that early on I was an attention whore (Nymysys recently described this facet of my personality as me wanting to be the princess in any group - not funny! - ok maybe a little funny but I'm still mad!).

Unfortunately, the older I got the better I got at starting trouble, and the harder it got to get out of it. I bounced around to a couple of schools and when alchohol and smoking got added to the mix things got worse. I had no respect for authority and that began to include my mother. By the time I was 16 things between us were getting to critical levels. It was decided between me my mother and my father that I should go live with Dad. Mom just couldn't control me any more.

I had always liked the idea of living with Dad - cleaning guns is alot cooler than cleaning dishes - but it was not really possible. My father drives the big miles long coal trains for CSX and his job is an on-call type of thing. He is just as likely to have to go to work at 4:00 in the morning as 6:00 at night. When the train is ready he has to go. With no one to watch me and rural areas requiring cars to get around, it just wasn't practical for me to live with him. But when I was 16 I got my license and all that changed.

I quickly gained respect for authority. When a redneck threatens to beat your ass you realize there is a certain zone you shouldn't go into with him. My dad is tough as nails and he reigned me in somewhat. He never had to hit me, the threat and loud voice was enough. But I always new that if I wanted to get beat down, all I had to do was push him. Being fairly intelligent, I chose not to push.

Kentucky was a bit of a culture shock to say the least. My first day of high school (this is junior year) at the KY Public school was a different world. I saw at least 5 air-brushed "Achy Breaky Heart" T-shirts and realized maybe I was in for more then I bargained for. Teachers commonly quoted the Bible in classes, which I had a serious problem with. 8 years of Catholic school had made me decide I wanted nothing to do with religion. I was supposed to be free from it in a public school, but in Southern Baptist controlled Pikeville, this was not the reality. Word quickly spread that I was an atheist and I ended up spending many classes (and lunches) debating with teachers and students. It would be a while before I realized that insisting there was no god is just as bad as insisting there is a god. Truth is no one knows. In high school, however, I was a hard-nosed atheist.

My religious problems were my second biggest pet peeve with that school. The first was that there was no drama class, no after school plays, no speech team. I had come from private schools with great drama programs to a total artistic vacuum. This killed me. Luckily, about halfway through the year, I found out about a new county wide after school drama program that was starting up. They were having all the kids interested (turned out to be a couple hundred) audition one day after school. There were about 20 slots available. Not only did I get in, I was to be the lead in every show they did for the next year and a half. I had the benefit of lots more training then any of those other kids.

The program kept me out of school for about 8 weeks a year for both years. We would tour the shows around to every other school in the County. I was able to achieve fame in this small little town, and soon everywhere I went I heard "Oh my God! That's him!" especially whenever I went to Wal Mart. (Shut-up! Wal Mart is HUGE in small towns!). Talk about big-fish-little-pond. I was able to parlay this fame into a bargaining chip at my high school. My senior year I insisted that if they did not offer a class, they should at least let me teach one. For some crazy reason they said yes.

I got to audition the kids at school who were interested and proceeded to pick the hot chicks and my friends to be in the class (power corrupts - what can I say?). I directed/produced two plays that year. Tons of fun. The taste of fame and power, albeit on a small scale, was more than enough to make me decide that I wanted to act professionally.

I went to Morehead (yes - give it try if you like - I've heard em all) State college, where Phil Simms went, the next year. They had a wonderful drama program where you were required to do 24 hours of tech work for any show you were in. I learned about lighting, set design, and costumes. In the winter a local amusement park (Kings Island in nearby Cincinnati) put up an audition notice on our call boards. When I found out this was where they filmed the amusement park episode of The Brady Bunch I had to go. Sure enough I got cast as a Star Trek character and Karaoke show host and had officially lined up my first job.

Me and 5 other actors ended up renting this wonderful 6 bedroom 4 story house in downtown Cincinnatti. It was a great pad with a backyard and a whole floor that was just the living room/dining room/kitchen. High ceilings, the works. My share of the rent was about $175 a month (I pay over $1000 now in NYC). I was clearing nearly $300 a week (during "training" that dough was for watching Star Trek reruns). For the first time I had true independence. I had my own pad, my own car, a job, and plenty of extra cash in my pocket. I turned 19 that summer. My greenroom was the same greenroom as the hip dance show. 15 or so very attractive girl dancers and about 7 or so male dancers. All of the male dancers were gay, so I did VERY well with those ladies that summer. I'd go out dancing a couple times a week. What a ball. By the end of the season I had decided I could not go back to college, live in a dorm, and have to ask my parents for money. My path was chosen and only one destination would do: NYC.

My family had made an agreement with me: If I went to college they would support me financially, if I chose not to go, they would support me emotionally. Luckily, my mother had moved to New Jersey in the meantime, and she offered to let me stay with her for a couple of months till I found a pad in the city. I packed my bags and headed north.

I came with $2000 saved up thinking that would last me a few months. Boy was I wrong. I realized by the end of the first week I would need to get a job. I hooked up with a temp agency I found in the back of the actor trade paper Backstage. I have been with them ever since. I worked 12 hours a day as an assistant on the trading floors of JP Morgan on 60 Wall. I had gone from Boston to Pikeville to Cincinatti to New Jersey to Wall Street inside of 4 years. I soon had saved up enough and moved into the city.

I was determined to continue acting. I was in a bunch of improv troupes, did some stand-up comedy, was a clown/power ranger at kids birthday parties, and booked a couple of industrial films. One improv troupe I was in asked me to write some skits. I soon discovered that I truly loved developing concepts almost as much as performing. I've been writing ever since.

I used to be into "oldies" as far as music goes. I would listen to the old rock and roll songs like Dion's "Wanderer" and "Rockin' Robin" and I was in heaven. Then one day a room-mate of mine was playing some Sublime. I was instantly hooked and began listening to them obsessively. A friend who had been trying to turn me onto hip-hop for years was finally vindicated. Sublime's lyrics were always giving props to the masters of hip-hop. I soon had to get the CD's that inspired them. Then I needed to get the CD's that inspired those artists. My music collection began to grow and grow. One night I went to a gigantic club and there were thousands of people dancing with incredible skill to these deep hard-core funky beats. I thought to myself about all those people from Pikeville who had married right out of high school. Folks who would stay there the rest of their days. For many of these people, the Prom was the biggest party they would ever know. This club blew every prom ever right off the face of the map, and it was just Wednesday. I went home and put on my headphones thinking about how wonderful a thing music is. I listened to CD after CD and the beats went deeper and deeper into my being.

Soon I grew to hate the silence in between changing CD's. I needed a mixer. If I was going to get a mixer, I may as well get some turntables too. One New Years Day the only thing that was open was Tower records. Me and my good friend went and purchased a DJ starter kit and hauled it up my 4-story walkup on Bleecker street. DaLovin' Dj was born.

Since then I have rocked many a party. I began writing, producing, casting and acting in stage shows. I Dj at night, work at a bank during the early day, work on theater and film in the evening and spin all night. My life has become a totally fulfilling journey into performance art with very little time to sleep. The beauty of this town is that you can come here and start your own thing. I have grown to realize that fame and power are not what is important. The important thing is expression and having a place to do it. The art, the journey, the experience is it's own reward. I still dream of fame, but I don't need it. First and foremost is the art. How people react to the art is beyond my control.

A good friend started a production company and I have joined him as a full partner. I'll post the link to our website once I have the damn thing straightened out. We put on all ages rock shows every weekend, we put together an improv troupe, we do sketch comedy film work, we have several scripts in the works, and we throw phat parties consistently.

My life is about music and performance these days, and it is a wonderful life. This all came to be around a mind-numbing stack of coincidences. I have grown to feel a Celestine Prophesy type of effect at work in my life and this city takes on almost magical properties when I think about it too much. I am so glad I chose to come here instead of college. What is important isn't the money or the fame. It is happiness. This city has offered me everything I needed to be happy. I am truly greatful.

When the city was attacked it felt like I was attacked. My whole family on both sides begged me to move away. I love this place more than ever. New York is the biggest small town you can imagine. The fabric of this place is the fabric of my life. I could not and will not leave. If the city gets destroyed, then so will I. I feel lucky to have experineced such an amazing place at such an important moment in history. Truly, I love New York.

That should just about bring this journal up to date. Hope that wasn't too long . . .

DaLovin' Dj

But seriously . . .

dalovindj@hotmail.com — Mon, 21 Oct 2002 17:08:38 GMT

Who I am:
A 26 year old semi-single white male living in Brooklyn, NY. I am an aspiring DJ/Actor/Writer/Producer/Director. To support these endeavors I work at an Investment Bank part time. I was born in a small town named Pikeville, KY. My mother and father met in Florida at an IHOP. My mother was a waitress and my father had just gotten to town. She asked him if he needed any thing else and he replied "How about a place to live." Turns out that the house next to hers was for rent, and a couple days later he moved in. One thing led to another and they were married by the time my mother was 19. When she was 20 she got pregnant and moved to my dad's hometown. I was born and lived there until I was 2. My parents divorced at this point and my mother and I moved to Boston.

This was to result in an interesting childhood. My school years were spent in Boston and my summers in Kentucky. I would spend the year learning about the arts, the sciences, city life, and all things urban. I would spend the summers learning how to use guns, crossbows, power tools, and watching Rambo flicks. With my mother it was nose-up New England culture. With my father it was down and dirty redneck ho downs. Mom taught me to love theater, Dad taught me to love poker. Mom taught me how to clean the dishes, Dad taught me how to clean the guns. Mom taught me what it is to be sensitive, Dad taught me what it was to be tough. Mom taught me how to be a pacifist, Dad taught me how to defend myself. Mom taught me to be nice to people, Dad taught me no to get suckered.

Depending on ones own history they may side with my father or my mother as the better teacher. But together they were terrific. It widened my horizons and taught me to be open to other world views. I took the best they both had to offer and I enjoy my knowledge of popular weaponry just as much as I enjoy my memories of reading Shakespeare. There was no judge who ever told my father to pay any child support, he always sent as much as he could. I spoke to him every week and spent every summer with him. When I was 16, I moved to Kentucky to live with him.

I stayed in the region until I was 19 and then moved to NYC where I have now been for 7 years. This is the most perfect place on the planet for a person like myself. When I was old enough to choose, I came here. I suspect I will live out the rest of my days here. We shall see. . .

Questions I am currently pondering:
What is love?
Is there free will?
Is there absolute truth?
What is evolution working toward?
How will the telescoping nature of evolution change the world in my lifetime?
Are cryogenics a good investment?
What is the physical nature of conciousness?
Is there really ancient ruins on Mars?
How can the evils of capitalism be checked without sacrificing the benefits?
Who were my ancestors?
Are we slaves to super-organisms?
Who the hell came up with the recipe for McDonalds Veggie burger?
Why doesn't the SDMB have a spell-checker?

Just got handed work, so I'll be back later . . .

First Time

dalovindj@hotmail.com — Thu, 17 Oct 2002 17:01:23 GMT

Here I am on Live Journal. Ummm. My name is Dj. I love. Ahhhhh. . . ummmm. . . . So how should I do this???

Let's try . . .

Dear Diary,

Today started like many others: with a ninja attack right before dawn. I fear my cleaning lady is growing tired of cleaning so much blood off the floors of my Brooklyn fortress. How can I make her understand that this feud has existed for aeons, and it is up to me (the last surviving member of an ancient and secret clan of skilled fighters) to rid the world of the evil forces of the Dew-Fang clan. I'll have to remmber to get her some nice bath salts as a thank you. Good help is hard to find, even for a Master like myself.

The rest of the day was uneventful. I had my blades sharpened, picked up the new poison-tipped darts, grabbed a couple needles for the decks, some instrumental James Brown records and headed to the gentlemans club for tea and hookers. Oh, and I did get a voice mail from a man claiming to be my doctor who said I'm delusional. He said I should be taking my medication. I know this to be a plot of the Dew-Fang, so I threw away any pills in my medicine cabinet last week. I take a little poison and the world becomes the Dew-Fang's oyster. I don't think so. Nice try guys, but there are precious few hiding spots left for you and your ilk. I will fall upon you like night, destroy you and your allies, and then leave you like I left my second wife: quickly and quietly.

More later!

DaLovin' Dj
October 17th, 2002