Mornin NYC!

It seems that even a simple trip to work is blog-worthy these days.

On an otherwise innocuous day, my morning commute is harmless-uneventful to say the least. This morning was not one of those days.

I could easily have foregone the 30 seconds of daydreaming in my apartment while I paraded around in my black, raw silk, 3” heels that I have never worn on New York City streets. I purchased them in Kentucky on a trip to see my son (the last time I saw him now that I think about it) and upon return, realized that my knees simply are not well enough to withstand the pressure of the pumps. But I digress…

I felt great this morning after getting my hair treatment at “The Experience” Salon on Franklin Avenue. Wearing my “Hair by Hameen,” gave me the confidence and ease I needed on a Tuesday morning. As I stroked back my blonde twists I remember thinking, “Today is going to be good, no matter what.” What the hell was I thinking?

As I descended the train station steps, I thought I missed the A Train, but it sat there as it often does. Two girls board ahead of me and quickly exit as I enter. I think it’s weird but I don’t study it, I just keep it pumping. The car is crowded anyway so I will keep walking. Let’s just see what’s up ahead…

Next car: we have a homeless man sprawled out on several seats. Ok, let sleeping dogs lie and let the sleeping man sleep I always say….ok I don’t… but this morning you bet your sweet cookie I am….I keep walking…

Here we have a sermon being delivered by a woman preaching to everyone- and no one at the same time….Needless to say I exit…to the next car…

Cool, clean (enough) and quiet. This is the car for me. If I was smart and lucky, this morning would have yielded an excellent half hour of extra rest. This morning I am neither so I get an hour of alternating screaming, crying babies. One of the precious bundles made a little stink-stink to keep us company as the train crept along. The babies were not annoying; the recurring announcement WAS:

“Passengers, we have traffic ahead due to signal problems on the express track. As the traffic moves, we shall proceed.”

After the 10^th announcement that incited another round of a crying chorus, one woman clasped her head with both hands, closed her eyes and cried out, “Oh, God!”

I had to bridle my laughter after the last two weeks of train mayhem in the city: First, the Youtube.com sensation of two women who duke it out on the train while the baby of one of the women rolls off the train and into the station. This week on Youtube.com, I watched a man commandeer a BMT #5train driving coach after climbing into the side window at 149^th street with the driver still inside of it! And did I mention that the man has been arrested over 40 times!

Eventually I exit the train after an hour of this experience that I swear started to swerve to the right toward the end of my ride. My sympathy went out to the remaining passengers during my egress.

 http://www.nydailynews.com/ny_local/2011/07/21/2011-07-21_new_york_subway_fight_not_even_a_baby_can_get_in_the_way_of_scrap_between_two_wo.html

http://www.nydailynews.com/news/ny_crime/2011/07/26/2011-07-26_start_train_or_die_terrifying_10minute_crisis_for_conductor_on_5_train_in_bronx.html

Find your seat for the next Purelements' Performance of "Humanity: An Ancestral Odyssey"

Recently the Blue Butterfly landed in a seat at the Thelma Hill Performing Arts 35^th anniversary season. One stand-out performance belongs to a daring new work by Purelements: An Evolution in Dance entitled, “Humanity: an Ancestral Odyssey.”

Kevin Joseph, choreographer and co-director of Purelements, unleashes “Humanity” onto the audience of THPAC without warning, and without mercy. House lights are turned on as a town crier appears from what seems to be nowhere. The vessel of the voice (Tammy Hall) descends the steps, issuing warnings of an alien species, carrying supernatural strength, who means the human race absolutely no good. Dancers appear unobtrusively, slick with the black of their costumes for skin.  With griot grace, Hall summons the greatness and antiquity of Africa, as the dancers/aliens reveal their unworldly thirst for domination. This foreshadows the intentions they have for their future prey-the human race.

The company members appear in primordial fashion, oozing from beneath the curtains, morphing in and out of shapes across the stage. It makes perfect sense that part of the mission statement of THPAC seeks to: “…furnish rehearsal and ‘incubation’ space for choreographers and dancers;” as viewers sense the hive collective of this alien force. In syncopation, the company shudders, spins, runs and thrills the captive audience with acrobatics. Among the company members, the alien Queen- masterfully played by Dina Wright Joseph- milks every move, stretches every step, and delivers a phenomenally exciting performance.  As “Humanity” is dedicated to Octavia Butler, Wright Joseph assumes the role of a parallel “Doro” from Butler’s “Patternist” series.  Danny Soto lands in a perfect split that would rival any teenage cheerleader, while company members display floor work to rival any break dancing crew uptown.  Spectators cheer on the edge of their seats while the company performs feats of wonder. There is no doubt: this is the finale of the night.

There is an ironic twist that should only be revealed to viewers, so I strongly urge anyone who hasn’t seen a solid dance performance, rife with comprehensive storytelling, to witness Purelements through “Humanity.”

BLUE BUTTERFLY VS. BROWN WATERBUG: INCIDENT AT JEFFERSON GABLES

On an otherwise uneventful Thursday night, Blue Butterfly settles in for the evening. Gently, she rustles beneath the covers while watching "Old School Killers: Twin Dragons." The only light in her cozy bedroom eminates from her laptop as the expanded view of Netflix reveals the 1973 feature.

Suddenly,while leaning on her left hand, there comes a disturbance from behind her head. The noise is familiar, yet unwelcome. Blue Butterfly rushes to the light switch on the wall exposing her suspected nemesis: Brown Waterbug. Discharging a sound of disgust, Blue Butterfly stares down Brown Waterbug. As if to laugh at her despised glare, Brown Waterbug unleashes his wings, flaunting his intention to employ his flying technique. Until this very moment, Blue Butterfly thought herself to be the only free flying creature in the room; she regrets ignoring the legendary accounts of Brown Waterbug's aerial skills.

It is fight or flight for both species in the room; Brown Waterbug makes the first move. Blue Butterfly takes flight through the house, slamming the bedroom door behind her, enclosing Brown Waterbug in the room. Blue Butterfly instantly realizes the futility of this maeuver and begins to devise a plan to lure her enemy out...and into the open...into the killing fields.

Blue Butterfly hesitates, thinking of the exposed clothes in the room where Brown Waterbug could easily hide. A flurry of thoughts flood her mind:

BB:

If I turn out the light in the room and turn on the light out here, the darkness will enfold Brown Waterbug while the greater light will attract my foe into the killing fields. There I will attack. There I will win.

In a BLINK! Blue Butterfly opens the bedroom door, slaps the light off and flits to the living room.

In silence, Blue Butterfly awaits the golden moment. Marveling at the turn of events of the evening from serenity to severity, Blue Butterfly looks up from her contemplation to behold her opponent perched quietly on the bedroom door. The trap was set to perfection.

The classic table cloth trick turns into the scarf on the clothing bin trick, and all contents fly about the room as Blue Butterfly reaches for it as her best weapon of attack.

Deep, uproarious, profane screams of insults to Brown Waterbug's lineage come racing out of Blue Butterfly's mouth. A blue scarf whips about the room as both Brown Waterbug and Blue Butterfly retreat into the room for the final showdown.

BB:

Come on out Mutha*&%&*^! You are wrecking my sleep you son of a brown b#$%%&^^% COME ON!

Blue Butterfly spies Brown Waterbug resting on another corner in the room, crawling downward into crevaces that her scarf could not reach. She can only scream a prayer that will echo down into the chambers of the walls of the room, drowning out her foe:

BB:

WHAT THE FU^&&*!!

After violently grabbing a heavy book left unshelved, Blue Butterfly eyes the room after long, hot moments of anticipation. Irony turns the wheel, and fortune smiles. It is the signature technique of Brown Waterbug that leads to its downfall.

Brown Waterbug soars to high ground all too late-Blue Butterfly spies the maeauver and hurls the novel at the target-and misses-hurling obscenities against the air. Blue Butterfly grabs a box of enclosed intoxicating oils encasing four vials of potents-explicatives! Another miss! Blue Butterfly grabs a plastic bottle of shea butter motion lotion-explicatives! more misses! She grabs a spherical jar of Jane Carter Nourish and Shine and holds it in the balance of her hand as the fate of her night is held in the balance...steady...steady...one breath-EXPLICATIVES! BANG!

A brown chunk of Brown Waterbug's thorax smears against the white wall of her bedroom. Brown Waterbug falls to the bed limp and dying.

Where Brown Waterbug musters up the strength to turn over layed beyond Blue Butterfly's comprehension. But it was shoe time.

A determined thud befalls Brown Waterbug as its wing is separated from its body now falling to the floor. She issues a final command to his afterlife:

BB:

GO TELL A FRIEND!

Chest heaving and throat coarse, Blue Butterfly sets a course for the livingroom loveseat for a celebratory smoke. Checking the corpse of the enemy, for assured victory, there, behind the bed, it is sure.

There is a knock on the front door. It is the police.

Glances of fatigue are exchanged. When Blue Butterfly delivers the tale of the battle, the officials bid the one standing a good night. Apparently, the neighbors were concerned about the "domestic disturbance."

Blue Butterfly warily lays down on the couch to recover. Work tomorrow is the reward ahead.

In the morning, Blue Butterfly cleans the mess from the night before, restoring order to the nest...and claims trophies.

The splattered partial thorax on the wall would remain there, resembling a decapitation left on the battlements as in the days of old...and a warning to others belonging to the same clan.

The wing would rest among her collection of stones and shells gathered on near and distant shores.

And now for the body...the body...surely it was...it was...GONE!

The saga continues...

Meshell Gets Off On Prince: A Review in Poetry

Meshell

Wore shades and whispered to her cohorts

Described Prince as “a weird motherfucker”

Reminisced on her own awkward phase when her parents must’ve wondered “what the fuck are you going through?”

She read the glow that held his lyrics in cyber space

Kept pointing to the screen saying, “Those are the words,”

The lights- a smoky purple/indigo haze showering the stage

We were mesmerized by her every move

She apologized for no costume changes

Or heels

Or the twins

But she played that man’s music with a woman’s voice

And grace

She

Responded to burning questioning- why not her own songs tonight?

She

Answered she would rather do the music that inspired her to make music in the first place

She picks up her guitar-one of three on stage

We went nuts on “Let’s Go Crazy”

I don’t remember the drummer’s name

I only remember that he was BOSS

His left hand played eighth-notes

His right hand played sixteenth-notes on the cymbal

His right foot banged the bottom out

God knows what his left foot did while all of that was going on

A lady next to me is thrown into hysterics

I ask in ignorance, “what is this song?” she screams, “Lady Cab Driver” into my ear, “but she slowed it way down,”

And that it was “driving her crazy!”

Her encore- “Purple Rain” in slow motion

Winding into our ears like a gospel spilled from the mouth of a prophet

After watching the movie a few times she reviews, “I’m sorry, that was some misogynist shit!”

(Shakes her head)

Ms. Meshell

Thanked us all at the end of her show for coming out and participating in this experiment

It looked like she had one last thing to say

When random shouts of “We love you Meshell!” ring out from our mouths

One escaped my lips, I know

And we left in awe of her wonder

My Visit to Rhode Island: Lessons in Love Taught by Children

It was mid May when the Blue Butterfly jumped on Peter Pan’s back and headed north, second state to the right of Connecticut- Rhode Island- “The State by the Sea”. After rushing through the city for roughly an hour with my dear friend and comrade in poetry, Barbara, we pick up her daughter, the little Princess Anna. This animated little burst of energy had only to grab her toothbrush and a pair of socks for a surprise weekend visit with her mommy who lives in Rhode Island. We three braved the wilds of Port Authority for the four hour bus ride to One Peter Pan Way in Providence, RI.

The next morning Barbara’s other daughter, little Miss Patty girl, returned from her father’s house to wake Anna with her morning greeting:

 “Wake up Anna, I’m here Anna, I love you Anna.”

(What choice words do you usually wake up to?)

I wake to the sound of the girls giggling in the next room and a myriad of birds chattering beyond the window. We needed a few more ingredients from the store to make our breakfast stellar, so after drinking my cup of Tazo Well Being Tea, “Rest,” the entertained me with a much needed DANCE BREAK!

ROCK STAR POSE!

And out the door I go.

Now, although Barbara insisted I take her three-year-old Patty girl with me to the store for directional guidance, my ego would not allow it. I'm grown! I also suck at directions whether inner state or out of the country.  (Hmm, what were those directions again?) Not even eight hours in Rhode Island and already I’m lost. Who was I kidding? Yet the walk was so beautiful I truly didn’t mind. Picture: a flock of geese take over the Junior High School football field; gardens rich with red, deep purple and bright, brilliant white flowers; long stretches of road with trees in the distance, lined-up like sentinels. One tree was split so far down the middle, it looked like it was struck by lightening, yet the leaves refused to die.

After walking for 20 minutes (by this time a highway appeared), a black angel saved me and pointed my feet in the direction from which I came, telling me to walk another 20 minutes (I walked past the store the first time, completely missed the HUGE RED awning). Breakfast ingredients were in my hand in no time and I was back at the house safe and warm. After a hearty breakfast of eggs, home fries and chicken sausages, we troupe out the door.

First stop: Furniture shopping for princess Anna’s room. After we get off the first bus, lessons in how far ahead to walk in front of Mommy, when to stop walking, the meaning of “active driveways” and patience, patience, patience were given out. As we wait the girls give me a-

DANCE BREAK!

ROCK STAR POSE!

And we are off to the bus that takes us to Providence Place Mall to buy a birthday present for a children’s party we are attending later in the day.

Bed, Bath and Beyond is always a magical place for me, but the most fun a young one can have is inside of a shopping cart. This simple act always reminds me of growing up with little my sister Shawn, doing everything together. The girls pile up in the cart and I try to spice things up:

(Using a nasal voice)

“Please keep your hands and arms inside of the shopping cart at all times. Please do not stand while the shopping cart is in motion. Thank you.”

Shopping trip success is scored, but revolving door antics lead to my voice tightening, sharpening, shortening, running out of patience, patience, patience. We rest in silence while waiting for the bus.

Birthday barbeque food does what it always does; the chicken soothes, the salad satiates, the water brings clarity, and the watermelon recharges the battery for the next 30 minute walk to the bus that takes us to the bus to transfer to the bus that takes us home (no exaggeration of buses).

After our day out, Barbara reads the girls a bedtime story- childhood memories again. Barbara and I get to finally talk as friends, sisters, poets and human beings-faults and all. She laughs at all my jokes:

Me: So, this is Rhode Island. Isn’t this one of the 13 colonies?

B: Yeah, Plymouth Rock is near here.

Me: I didn’t land on Plymouth Rock, Barbara

We rise early the next morning after the girls had to finally be separated in order for anyone to get rest through the night. After a second look at the bus schedule, the transportation route called for either more walking at 7a.m. or a cab.

I want you to guess which option I chose at THIS point in the story girls and boys.

By now the girls are fighting over a tissue paper flower that princess Anna made for Mommy. Our (ahem) transportation arrives and Princess Anna reads a book all about “Crabs.” She is such a good reader for 6! No sight reading for her, no sir, she is sounding out signs in windows everywhere we go. Literacy-YES!

Miss Patty girl is a trip, having side conversations on her imaginary phone with imaginary friends-dead serious about it too! Sometimes she has to conduct part of her conversation in the next room. I mean WOW!

The hour we spend waiting for the bus to come is filled with the girls chasing each other around Mommy; by now they have totally kissed and made up, as they feel the departure time is upon them. They hug each other to death, professing their love for one another. We all embrace goodbye, goodbye, and I leave the State by the Sea on the bus with Princess Anna who by now is crying, but still trying to be strong, so the last image Mommy sees is a happy Anna. We take off waving to our loved ones, and Anna requests I give her Mommy’s phone number. She writes it onto a piece of paper she has folded in half, creating a two-dimensional piece of artwork, containing a love letter feverishly written to Mommy- tears still glistening in her eyes. We talk, girl stuff, you know, discussing the cognitive behavior of toddlers and ex-toddlers turned “big girls,” then I read a book called “Bad Kitty vs. Uncle Murray,” which explores the differences between the domesticated feline world and the humans who care for them within their own world.

After that we are off to sleep city.

Back to Brooklyn-I drop Anna back to her father’s arms that have been awaiting her return. As I walk away feeling an awesome sense of accomplishment Anna runs behind me with her last request: “Remember to mail the letter to Mommy, ok?”

Guess what I am doing first thing Monday morning…

ROCK STAR POSE!

A Shakespeare Sunday: Macbeth in Brooklyn

In the Spring (semester) 2010, of my content,  I took a Shakespeare course at the Center for Worker's Education, a satellite site for City College. I shared my love, frustration and interest of the literature of the infamous William Shakespeare with a dear friend of mine. During the course of the next few months, our Saturday mornings were reserved for discussions, questions and readings of the plays and Sonnets of Shakespeare. We would revel in the plot twists, language, history and poetry of these writings. Since then, numberless private jokes, quotes, nicknames and such were saturated with 16th century wit. So when I looked up from my cell phone one day on the A-Train and spied the monopolized advertisement for the Shakespeare festival at BAM Harvey, I knew what I would do next...and with whom I would do it with...


So, fortune smiled on my life the following Spring, and I caught the last show on the last day of the last leg of the Macbeth Tour showcasing the dynamic acting genius that is Cheek by Jowl. Declan Donnellan directs this surprisingly lithe adaptation of the William Shakespeare tragedy. Crossing the seas, Cheek by Jowl hails from their rehearsal space in London to perform in Paris, Milan, Berlin, Madrid and Hong Kong before landing in New York at the esteemed BAM Harvey Theater in downtown Brooklyn.

The sensual performances of both leading man and lady are palpable; one is held in the patter and clenches of their celebratory kisses, as the two connive at murder . William Keen plays the valliant war hero, humble husband and slowly evolving murderous Macbeth, who receives a profesy told to him of greatness and power, delivered by three horrid witches rife with mystery and damnable equivocation. The transformation of the character is under Keen's absolute control as his booming, flippant speeches and masterful trembles work up a sweat that he later wipes or slaps off. Keen acts in every breath; you believe his every word as he pivots, struts or raises an eyebrow- the man is in character on a cellular level. The inner conflict raging within Macbeth is convincingly demonstrated through the physical war beseiged throughout Keen's body. The audience is enrapped, watching a man go mad by the ambitious quenching of his blood lust. Anastasia Hille delivers a playful Lady Macbeth, flirting with evil principalities before blooming into a woman truly at home with plotting murder. Hille portrays the hypocrisy of Donnellan's Lady Macbeth  as she sings with joy over premeditative schemes, teases her husband for his compassion and hesitation at killing, or weeps when Macbeth temporarily shrinks from assassinating the present King Duncan in order to overleap his authority and create his own time to reign over Scotland. Murder consummates the political ambition of the Macbeth household as the two conspire in loving poses, dancing while harmoniously planning the King's untimely death in each other's arms or laying atop one another. The intimacy displayed between Keen and Hille is redolent of two friends who change the nature of their relationship and consequently, the course of everyone's lives within the play.

Cheek by Jowl, an idiom for "close together," embodies the spirit of the company and the stregnth of their collective skill. The patience to act in inches, reminiscent of Japanese Butoh theater, demands the discipline of the actors as well as the attention of the audience.  The exits and entrances are unobtrusive, time-conserving and very, very quiet. Each step is arguably a dance, alternating between movements so slow they become dreamlike, and in an instant, so quick that you  get the sense that you have somehow missed something between blinks. It is fairly easy to believe that they share the same breath. The stillness is just as heavy as the riveting action. Hallucinations of daggers and pantomimed props create the sense of an alternate, intangible world upon the stage. Yet, the physicality of Cheek by Jowl rivals the imagery of this production. From the simple incorporation of wooden boxes resembling a moving Birnam wood forest, to their simultaneous kneeling stances while pledging loyalty to an ever changing king, the company epitomizes a single entity- a sole sentiment. There are surprises and mutations within the Donnellan adaptation: the three visible witches are switched out for two arbitrary voices emanating from the standing collective of actors onstage. Kelly Hotten plays the porter at Macbeth's castle and gives a "cheeky" modern spin to escape from the darkness of the tragedy-her performance was anchored by booming applause. Cheek by Jowl members randomly serve as a silent audience to the play itself, witnessing the deeds, acts, asides and deaths occurring throughout the production, providing the mood of an unspoken play within a play.

After three curtain calls the audience let the company end their tour after an amazing performance. My companion and I walked to a nearby restaurant where we supped and discussed the pros and cons of the differences and improvements from our perspectives. We both agreed on the expert skill of this production. What started as a Saturday morning conversation stemming from a class is evolving into a lifetime appreciation of literature and theater. Next stop...King Lear!

SMARTECHNOLOGY

I should begin by saying I have a healthy love-hate relationship with technology. I work on a computer in an office for eight hours a day for a paycheck every other week. The last thing I want to do after work is sit in front of another computer. I am a minimalist at Facebook and checking my email is almost as stressful as checking my rickety mailbox downstairs. Both of them often have countless pieces of information that I will never use and sometimes notifications of bills are just as stressful as the amounts I have to pay. I am a writer and have been since the age of 12, so the pen and the paper were my first two loves (I am a true Gemini). Writing my thoughts into cyberspace is not unnatural- it’s just not my first choice as a medium. So blogging is a new thing to me (that I love) and it has caused me to think before I speak, read as carefully as possible before I act and grow from the writings of others. Growing pains hurt, but there is usually a reward for loving and consequences for hating that we learn from (hopefully).

I just have moments where technological living goes beyond being a tool and infringes on our intellect. So the idea of a car parking its self is not appealing. It’s scary! How do I learn to Parallel Park if the car is doing it for me? I have to learn what I personally believe men master better than women-spatial awareness. I have no interest in seeing my pictures on my TV; I just don’t see the point! Why did I bother to load the pictures onto my computer, into my Facebook or MySpace page just to turn away from my TCM Channel to a picture of myself a few feet away? I love my pictures but when you incorporate technology, it creeps me out a bit.

I also feel like we allow technology to take us away from basic information that we provide to one another. Perfect example: A recent trip to a Discount store (that will remain nameless) carried the wrong size product inside of one of its packages. I thought the store hours would be on the receipt. Wrong. The place that would normally hold that information replaced it with advising the consumer to check out their Facebook page. Sad - just need the store hours. A phone call placed to the phone number provided asked for the consumer to do two things: Leave a message and check out their Facebook page. Ok, ok this is stupid. Some people, believe it or not, do not have internet access in their homes. Inconvenience to them? How inconvenient was it for “Nameless” to take the store hours off of the receipt? Basic information is missing in action. Its new home address: cyberspace.

I know I don’t have to mention how technology has affected the dating scene, but I would like to share two things. One is, I DO NOT LIKE TEXT! It is not effective for business or love relations. A text will not transmit your heart’s desires quite like the tone of your voice, the look in your eyes, or the chemistry that our brains share when we are together. Neither will a “sext” (which I have been guilty of sending). I recently received one and I have to say, an uninvited sexual innuendo is rarely well received from me.

The second thing I wish to share is a short story. I recently bumped into a childhood friend of mine. We have always been friends-nothing more. Whenever we see one another in Brooklyn, we always ask about family members or share an experience from a cultural event recently attended. In the past six years I’ve seen him, we never exchanged information. I was good at just seeing a friendly, familiar face from Far Rockaway (say that three times fast). So one lazy Friday after work I see “F-Bomb”- his name for the sake of my story-and F-Bomb and I have a great conversation about an event we both missed, but about writers we marvel about. I even share one of my beloved Stella Artois with this cat. We make the exchange of digits and e-mail and I think “wow, progress, right?” Wrong. He calls me at midnight which is poor judgment but I give him a pass out of Rockaway love. Yet, I do that for friends and potentials of which this dude falls into the former category. We have an average conversation but I can tell he’s fishing but with no bait. We hang up and then he texts me inviting himself over later. STRIKE THREE FOR ME! He doesn’t know how I feel about texts but HUH? I especially hate when a man initially reaches out to me via text. The time it took your manly fingers to text what you said, you could have spent that energy finding K-I-S-H-A in your phone and having the real thing. So to me, it’s a step away from a real conversation. But a text after midnight? What are you saying to me? CALL ME is my response. I told him we can meet at a lovely coffee shop around the way (Liquid Oz on Malcolm X). Needless to say he still hasn’t called me back. Even good guys with good grooming and a good job have their moments of whackness. Here I thought I had a new-found friendship forming and it turned out to be an annoyance. I can understand if a man is shy, but texting will not help you deal with your lack of game/rap/pick-up technique. I am not practice- I am the real thing, not a button on your phone to play with.

From the Immigration Office to change of address with the Post office, our services are wildly moving to cyberspace as their new place of business that we must travel to for services. I understand it serves as a tool to speak to a global community in seconds what would have taken days, months, etc. I get it. But there has to be some sort of responsibility to the necessary information we need. Human relationships take time and sensitivity to others that technology slowly robs mankind of. I am learning to navigate the waters of my disdain and joy from this everyday tool…

A SHELTER POEM

I cannot tell you what it’s like

You gotta sweat it out for yourself

You can only follow me down the steps

Move with me

I dress and leave in darkness and silence

In silence I descend the hole that swallows me

WALK

WALK FASTER

Every minute is a song and every second is my favorite part of the song

So walk faster

You get to the door, present your card and (watch the steps)

Climb higher and higher

‘Til you get to heaven; there is a dance floor there

Hellish smells like someone bottled their sweat and poured out a libation

Every body in the spirit

You tithe by moving out of your bed and down a random street in the middle of the night

The collection plate for this church goes to the food in the back compliments of Mama Bird

THIS IS THE SHELTER

Uninvited funk permeates through your clothes, all over your body, and you just got there

Folks come

From out of state, out of the country and out of their minds

Dressed real nice or stretched out before hand to be naughty

Some nights the regulars are there

Some nights the old heads come out

The music is sick

The sick come to get healed

Some nights the Resident Regisford is there

Some nights Sting is there

But tonight

You climbed out of your bed so you can be present in the body

And you do not leave

Until the last hug is hugged

And the last cheek is kissed

And the last hand waves goodbye

And the sun clasps its hands high and strikes noon

My Routine: CLUB SHELTER NYC

Heaven’s blessing is a place I can go to in the middle of the night and become invisible.  I rise off my couch after trying to watch Saturday night live again. It has always been limp in the middle. That is also where the funniest skit is buried. Someone is getting booed off of the stage on Showtime! At The Apollo.  I have no sympathy for the performer. I grab the clothes that I laid out before I crashed.

There are many layers involved for the sweat.

In silence I dress. In silence I leave. In silence I descend the hole that swallows me into the heart of her throat (watch those steps) …

This time of the morning people actually mind their business. The train is not a festival of eyes or appetites. The train becomes a mat to take a nap on from station to station until you arrive at your destination. WALK.

WALK. FASTER. I become a dodging bullet through the ever-bustling streets of the city and the bodies within it. I have to make it there. Every minute is a song I am missing and every second is my favorite part of the song. I am a heat-seeking, self-guided missile…so walk faster…

You get there…the line is down the block…on special occasions it is almost around the next corner several people deep.

You get to the door, present your membership card and (watch those steps) climb

Higher and higher and higher

Till you get to heaven; there is a dance floor there

The smell is hellified. Someone bottled their sweat and you splashed it all over your body after the shower. THAT is The Shelter. Uninvited funk throughout your clothes, all over your body and you haven’t undressed yet.

Get a corner, get comfortable, get undressed into phase one of your clothes, go to the coat check, ease your mind, get undressed in the bathroom-whatever.

Get a drink- anything to drink. Some nights you want to be nice. Some nights you want to be naughty. A drink is the first step in either direction.

Have you stretched? Get stretched out. Get a friend to help. If you are there alone, stretch for a long time. Once someone joins you, you are going to be ready.

Some nights all of the regulars are there. Captain Caveman, Mama Bird, Queen Mother Peaches, The Chain, The Beast, The Nasty Superman, Fireman, B, Lisa, all the kids in the circle, Jesus, The PT /PW Crew, Dirty Elvis, and a host of other colorful characters surviving a checkered past. There are transient beings including “Couple of the Moment,” “The DJ’s present girlfriend,” and “Visiting New York for the First Time Tourist.”

After your receive euphoria, a dance floor revelation,  Valhalla, or your personal blue heaven, say goodnight, good morning or goodbye to your family-your House music family. We are a community that represents a world, this world, living, if only for a night, in peace and harmony.

You have been armed with a coat of arms, dipped in the music you have always loved and never heard before. Know that you always have a place in this world to be your entire self, uninhibited and strong, or vulnerable and tender. You will always have a shelter from the storm of your troubles.

WINTER MUSIC CONFERENCE 2011-THE PRODIGAL DAUGHTER RETURNS

TO BOGO OR NOT TO BOGO

The anagram intimately known to millions of modern American women stands for Buy One, Get One off or some discounted percentage off.  In my case it was half-off at Payless Shoe Source. Now, usually, when I walk past a Payless store, memories of sneakers that pinch my pinky toe and leather uppers that do not un-scuff comes to mind. But I’m going to Miami! I am going to need reinforcements in my shoe department. After running to another shoe store and grabbing adorable Betsy Johnson tights that go surprisingly well with anything, I coordinate with my BOGOs. Two-Hundred and five dollars later, my foundation was set.

http://www.payless.com/

After discussing her highly anticipated Zumba exercise class scheduled for later that morning, my Aunt Alice dropped me off at the airport on Thursday, two hours before my flight. Due to the donation of a beautiful carry-on Fendi bag from my supervisor and the gift of a Winter Music Conference bag from my friend Black Dynamyte from three years prior, I had no need to check any bag. My ultimate goal for vacation packing includes a toothbrush in my pocket, but that is for another time…

TOUCHDOWN

The flight to Fort Lauderdale was uneventful aside from the young lady who talked about herself for two out of the three hours scheduled for the flight. I was exhausted from so much self-indulgence. However, once I looked out my window and saw the airport workers in their shorts and shades, I knew I was in my blue heaven.

I mistakenly left my perfect Miami shades that I bought at Payless (half-off) in my aunt’s car, but ironically I didn’t need them for the practical reasons I bought them for. Dana and I did not maintain many daylight hours. It didn’t hurt that they are so very cute-animal print with a purple tint at the bottom rim and tips-it only hurt that I misplaced them. The weather was a little cool for Miami this time of year, but 68degrees at night in Miami outweighs a rainy New York day any day.

Took the Go shuttle to the travel office and as we are about to take off for the resort in my agent’s sports car, the first familiar face I see walking innocently along Collins Avenue is that of Joaquin “Joe” Claussel. I am half-way out of the sports car with my flip-flop half way off my right foot, hopping along to touch the hand of Joe. This man has produced, compiled and played music in such a transformative way, that when you see him, you know you are looking at someone extraordinary. His manner is friendly, his gait is easy and his smile is warmer than a sunset in Puerto Rico. We exchanged greetings and numbers and I was on my way.

WHERE DID WE GO AGAIN?

After I checked into the room, fully stacked except for an iron (which D was bringing), I waited for Dana to arrive…and waited…and waited. The Tribe party, with hot acts such as Ian Friday and Black Coffee were slated in the DJ lineup, was to be my first destination. My Best laid plans were thwarted by the waiting, so I explored the hotel layout instead. The lower level, to my surprise there was a Russian and Turkish Baths Spa for an affordable, non-inclusive fee. After obtaining a pamphlet listing the different services, I made out for the ocean shore. On the other side of the gate was the sea. Walking out of the gate to the beach was far easier than walking back in. There is a combination that I was never given. GREAT. I walk back and forth before a short, brown, very loud Chow began barking hysterically at me. I could dodge the little dog, but the big, beautiful unfamiliar Labrador that slowly padded over to me was alarming. I remembered learning from my ex-husband that all one has to do is turn your hand palm-facing up, and extend it below the dog’s nose. The pooch will smell your hand and after being satisfied that you mean it no harm, will lick your hand and allow you to pet it. I realize the mouth of the hound is below the nose but hey, both of you are taking a chance to demonstrate trust.

The owner popped from behind his gated condominium and steps off of his hardwood deck to convince me the dogs were friendly and do not bite. He was right. I was still scared. He gave me the combination to return to my hotel and back to safety. I was shaking all the way back to my room. Smiling, but curiously comforted that the dog/hand trick worked. Thank you, Ibrahim.

So, reunited, we leave the hotel room after 40 texts and several gulps of wine. All the sexiness we could muster poured into Geo’s red mustang and we were South Beach bound! Let the games begin!

Dinner….Italian…picked up Cleo at Sushi Samba…shout out to all the New York DJ’s I hugged and kissed (Ray Vazquez, Mikki Afflick, Duce Martinez had his hands on the boards)…brought a bottle of Amaroosah oil to Red at the Sexy Bitch Party since she loved it…Lil' Ray on the boards upstairs…Performance by Kafele and nothing but love throughout the room…caught a quick dance with Nadeeah Eshe between more wine…danced with Geo and forgot the next day until he reminded me very naturally with another dance. Pranced over to Louie Vega’s Classic’s party…somebody snuck a kiss-or tried to…somebody told me they were going to touch “the girls” and proceeded to…Mustang Sally ride back up to the hotel and conked out… the next day it took us 10 minutes to remember what we did on this first night we had so much fun.

DAY 2-THE OCEAN

The Beach was lovely but I don’t trust water. I almost drowned three times in my life so I steer clear of all water. Since I injured my left knee at Coney Island dancing to Sting International playing sllaming house music on the boardwalk people have been telling me to go to the sea. So I figured the Miami coast would be kind. I still didn’t trust it. But I gave it the college try and it was beautiful. We clean up and head out to a rooftop party and dine like Turkish royalty – before the baths the following day. Ralf Gum, Jovonn and Eman proved to be excellent musical selectors-Jovonn played a Mary J Blige mix that I cannot get off of my mind! We stayed long enough for two more DJ’s and we were off to the next party.

We tried to trick one of our friends by going to an alternate party and the joke was on us. The DJs we wanted to hear were not there and the one DJ that was there was merely standard. We promptly left and enjoyed an intimate party in the lobby of the Chelsea where I first heard Julius the Mad Thinker three years prior. New Yorkers littered the streets beside the Spring Breakers who seem to grow younger in every street. Our small band of friends dissolved as the night grew old and we retired to our quarters at some unidentified hour of the morning.

http://www.scooterandlavelle.com/index1.htm

DAY THREE-THE TURKISH BATHS

I have watched commercials for Turkish Baths and I have heard about the Russian Bathhouses in New York, plotting to indulge for a day one day. That one day was today. I had been hell bent since I discovered how close I was to realizing a dream. I read and asked questions until I was satisfied I would have an unbelievable and unforgettable experience. It went something like this:

BRING A BIKINI! Put your room keys and valuables inside the safety lock box at the reception desk…WASH UP IN THE SHOWER BEFORE YOU GET INTO THE JACUZZI…put your clothes inside of the locker in the ladies room…enter the baths where the huge heated Jacuzzi pumping ocean water through the vents and a stream of water falls from the turquoise blue and white tiled ceiling. There are several therapeutic showers where water comes from EVERY direction, aroma therapy saunas and Ice baths.

You are supposed to step inside of the ice bath and douse yourself with water inside of the bucket. I did not have the nerve to do that to myself, so a friendly passer-by saw my dilemma and proceeded to throw the bucket of cold water on me from the front.

I turned around so she could follow-through with my backside.

One word: revitalizing.

After that I thought the Platza Oak Leaf treatment would be relaxing and soothing. WRONG. The leaves stimulate your skin as you sit inside of the Russian Radiant Room (Shvitz) that has to be at least 198 degrees. I lay down face first on the towels that have been doused with cold water for what I think is going to cool the area for my supposed relaxing oak leaf session. WRONG. The water activates the heat when you pour it on the benches. You are supposed to douse yourself while standing up if you want to cool off.

All I can say is that my only complaint consisted of my calves burning from the heat.

I loved the rejuvenating sensation of the leaves, the eucalyptus scent emanating from them, the challenge to my breathing with the wet towel placed over my face with the eucalyptus scent to encourage deep breathing. After making it through several douses on the bench as I lay there, I was taken to an ice bath and dunked three times…back to the Radiant room for an oil rubdown, then the therapeutic shower and then a nice nap.

There is a relaxation room if you so desire. Dana and I had other plans. It’s called Body and Soul.

http://www.russianturkishbaths.com/

MY MIND, BODY AND SOUL

So, after seeing Joe on a random street, he offered to put me on the list for Body and Soul. I got caught up in the excitement and mixed feelings of my last night in Miami that I didn’t bother to check the list for my name. Dana and I took pictures while we waited for the cab, in the cab and at the party. Everyone was there to be sexy, have a great time and listen to some fantastic music. Danny Krivit, Francois K and Joe, as usual, did not disappoint.

http://www.bodyandsoul-nyc.com/main.html

HOME AGAIN

Dana and I make great time getting to our separate airlines. We even talked and recapped the weekend while waiting for our respective 7am flights. The jokes were hilarious. The same two women sat beside me on the way back to New York; on opposite sides of the plane. Talk about happy.

My aunt and mother picked me up from the airport. I am so lucky to have these beautiful women in my world. They loved their Zumba class on Thursday and we chatted on the way back home.

I returned to my apartment, littered with BOGO tags and boxes and bags. I spruced up a bit and lay down a bit more than that. Ironic enough, I had the same wine to gulp on in my refrigerator as in my hotel room.

The prodigal daughter has returned.

21^st Century SPACE RIDERS: ONLINE HOUSE MUSIC DISC JOCKEYS

 Kisha Toure

2008

“The one thing I can say about this House Music scene is that it’s always changing.” This is James Vincent’s answer to my lamentations over the dissolve of “The Shelter”, the longest running underground House Music Party in New York.  Since 2001 I had been a regular attendee of the weekly dance party, now defunct due to reasons beyond the average partygoer’s power. “People get into this for different reasons.” “JV”, as he is affectionately known, has a handle on the climate of the house music scene that is both easy going and insightful. James Vincent is a Chicago native and current New York resident. JV is one of scores of DJs who hosts their own online radio show. 

Cyberjamz.com is one of several websites that serve as a platform for House music to continue as a thriving sub-culture that ironically manages to win Grammy Awards.  Other sites include XMRadio.com, JerseyDJs.com, HandzOnRadio.com, Live365InternetRadio, and a host of others. That driving, pulsating, upbeat, down tempo, sensual, erotic, post-disco era necessary music, are the life force of dance floors, nightclubs, lounges and households of those who remember. There are music festivals designed around House music and its related bedfellows including Drum n Bass, Jungle, Techno, Deep Tech, and Spacey Dub. The Southport Weekender, Miami Winter Music Conference, Collective Minds and Soul Summit Music Festival are just a few of the festivals and conferences that highlight House music.

Online radio shows have moderators who make sure the program is moving smoothly, resolve problems as they occur, investigate recurring problems and maintain the server. The DJ logs on to the server that allows him or her to stream live on the website. The server handles all of the functions of the station: chartroom, listening ability, logging on to play shows and the like. When you log on you are in real time, with an acceptable predetermined amount of delay. The DJ clicks on the appropriate link and airs their show.

This music evokes emotion through memory; good, bad or indifferent-all unforgettable times.  They remember a time when the music they heard in their individual houses on record players began being played in park jams, block parties, and in the clubs. House music is fundamentally music that was made and/or played in your house.  Rhythm and Blues, more familiarly known as “R&B,” is associated as the lifeblood of music for many 20^th century African-American households. This music was then deconstructed, remixed, and recreated into new sounds and arrangements. “The Chicago sound is primarily the home of House, ‘the inception’” as JV calls it. Whenever they were of age (or of age via fake I.D.s) youths would gain admittance into clubs and party the night away.  There were rituals of systematic sneaking-out-of-the-house, or as an alternative to those who were fortunate enough, there were High School parties where the well-known DJs of that time would play. 

I was surprised to hear JV use the term “sock-hop” when describing some of his earlier parties at Whitney Young Magnet High School in Chicago.  I associated this term with dances held at schools primarily in the 1950’s. JV has a youthful face with an ancient sense of understanding.  He has agreed to let me watch him work as he presents his weekly show “Urbansoul Sessions” on Cyberjamz.com.  I am apologetic for being any distraction whatsoever, all waved away with a smile and encouragement to conduct the business at hand.

My obvious first questions inquired of his influences and how he got into House Music, which he credits to his family, his uncle in particular, who is a musician. Growing up with music in the household made him appreciate Jazz, Funk and Soul. His instruments include Piano and Drums (percussion). He has a good collection of Miles Davis pictures, including one with a full set of teeth framed into a smile. He remembers his first Parliament Funk concert complete with the Spaceship landing on the stage. “That was the first time I ‘felt’ music and then to see them, visually?”  JV studies the Dao and uses his turntables as instruments of homage to the creators of the music he plays.  “I use these as healing instruments ...I’m just a vessel; I convey the feelings that those musicians and artists felt.”

I asked him about his format and what determines his line-up: “Well my background is College radio. My job is to ease you into your week. I always open up with, ‘Conquistadors Los Chocolates’ aka ‘Black Conqueror’- because I am a Black Conqueror.” JV is playing one of my favorite songs at the moment “Turn Me On” by Black Coffee featuring Bucie. One thing that I instantly noticed about JV was his ability to mix the new with the classics. Papa Wemba “Peace” and Santana’s “Mirage” were played alongside “Blue and Deep” by Jephte Guillame featuring Wiltrud Weber. He made the distinction of (Paradise) Garage Classics being simply Chicago Standards. “The Garage” is one of the signature House music parties that resound throughout the House Community. In the New York community, most of the first memorable club going experiences was born on the dance floor in The Garage. JV reminisces that, “Larry Levan, (Resident DJ for The Garage) cleared many a floor but broke many a record doing it,” referring to debuting new music. When asked of his personal influences in the industry: “As far as DJ influences I would have to say Merlin Bobb, Timmy Regisford (WRKS) and Tony Humphries (WBLS).  When I moved here is when I totally got into Tony.” JV responds to my favorite question: Your favorite House Party? Any rituals? JV smiles: “Going somewhere ritualistically? In my peak? I would have to say Tony Humphries at Zanzibar. Rituals...well you gotta take a disco nap. I traveled solo and I stayed light-handed. You had to have an extra T-shirt or layer.”

I had the privilege of being on an Online Radio Show, the host being a dear friend of mine, Ian Rock, one of my partners in music. We co-hosted a short-lived poetry event called “Mother of Pearl” that featured live poets reading their poetry over instrumentals of various genres of music.  Ian would also play consisting of airy vocal arrangements, lush acoustic strings and driving dubbed beats between the poets. On a cooler than usual afternoon in June, I read some of my poetry to accompany his online radio show, “Eclectic Dance Sessions” on Cyberjamz.com. Ian played his hard-to-find treasures, and a great deal of new music from around the world that we here in the states are often not privy to.  I read my poetry and advertised for my upcoming single “Nightfall”, soon to be released on Traxsource.com, an online music store.  I was hosting an afterwork/after-hours party at the time, “The AsOne Party”, at Sapphire lounge in the Lower East Side of Manhattan.  My experience on the show was enthralling, and I received positive feedback and encouragement to do it again.

Ian sat the computer monitor next to me, and urged me to go online and speak to people. I was reluctant, and only looked on for responses, but I remembered that there was a little world going on between the listeners in the chat room.  I later learned that there are specific greetings, nicknames, fake names, temperaments and relationships. I met several DJs through the chat room and finally, I was granted the opportunity to interview a few.

DJMinx, Detroit

HandzonRadio.com

How did you get into House Music?

 I frequented a club at the suggestion of several friends called “The Music Institute.” Derrick May was the DJ every Friday night. The grooves were off the hook and the crowd was dancin’ hard! I’d not heard House really before going to this spot, but I immediately grew to love it going forward!

Who are your influences? Why?

Derrick Mayyyyy!! The man was a fire every time I saw him! Every mix was on point and every track was a banger. I wanted to start spinning because of the excitement he caused while workin’ those turntables!! My mentor (Jerrald James) Pushed me to become a DJ because I told him of my interest every time I left The Music Institute. He was always there for me. Sarena Tyler is very important in my music life as well. I’ve learned a lot from her in this business and she is still there for me today.

How do you prepare for your show? What determines your line-up?

My programming depends on how I feel the day of my set. I may or may not program my sets (It’s rare that I do), I just make sure I’m familiar with the music and I go for it!

What is your signature sound?

Four on the floor soulful vocal tracks and deep sounds. Bass…I need Bass!!

What was your favorite House Party? What was your "getting ready" ritual?

HA HAHHHHH!  I guess my favorite House Party would be one that consisted of people ready to party…not just stand around and chat. When they’re ready to go...so am I!!

In preparation for my groove (starting at home) I have everything laid out that I’m going to wear, and some music rockin’ in the background as I dress…adding garments to the beat! From easin’ my pants on to the kick drum to snapping on a necklace to a high hat! Once I’m at the club and have my room temperature bottled water, I look around to see what the crowd is responding to and then pull out music I think will make them dance. As I mentioned, I usually just go for it without a programmed set.

DJ AppleJac, Atlanta GA

HandzonRadio.com, Massive Groove.com

 How did you get into House Music?

I got into house mainly because I was growing weary of the stagnation of Hip-Hop. House seemed to have a lot more energy and there was more respect for the music and love for the culture, or so I thought (laughing).

Who are your influences? Why?

There are a lot of influences, but I'd definitely have to say that if it weren't for DJ Spinna really kinda taking me under his wing when we'd be in Miami for WMC, introducing me to people and just making sure I was connected with the right people, and Kerri Chandler, Dennis Ferrer and Jovonn really taking the time to give me pointers on the production end, I'd probably not be doing what I'm doing as far as House Music is concerned. I'd also like to say that people like Kai Alce, Ron Pullman, Cullen Cole, Aphrosoul, DJ Punch and DJ Kemit, were very integral in my learning curve as well. They schooled me on a lot of stuff and I'll always be grateful for their willingness to help me. I also must thank Calvin Morgan from SWEAT for giving me my first opportunity to play House and step out of the "Hip-Hop DJ" box.

 How do you prepare for your show?

I try to have some sort of blueprint for what I wanna play, whether it's making sure I have new stuff or just really good stuff that maybe people haven't heard before or haven't heard in a while, but still keep it open enough to go where the vibe takes me.

What determines your line up?

Again, I just try to go with the vibe. More so when I'm playin out than on the Internet because you have more of a tangible, "back and forth" dynamic with your audience in a club. For me personally as a DJ, I'm an open book. I think people can tell what I'm feeling by the tunes I play or how I deliver them. Sometimes that's not always a good thing, but I think I'm very honest as a DJ, maybe too honest sometimes (laughing).

What is your signature sound?

I try not to get into "signature" anything because it crystallizes you into one particular way of doing things. And I think that the fact that I've been playin other genres/styles of music before I started playing House, there's something to be said about being able to fuse all of those things into one energy, not just box it in to always be "four on the floor". So if I had to "call it" something, I'd say "Boundless Dance Music" circa 2009 Sounds of Mecca Entertainment (laughing).

Favorite House Party you ever attended? What was your "getting ready" ritual?

My favorite party I've ever been to would hafta be the "Disco Forever" party at WMC in 2004. That was the party where I "got" House Music, and there was no turning back after that. In terms of a "ritual," I always pray before a set, be it on the Internet or at a club or wherever. My friend Syl told me once that I need to honor my gift by honoring the Creator OF that gift, so before each time I spin, I thank Jah for using me as an instrument to touch the people, because you never know what people are going through, and that two hours or however long that they're listening to you could make all the difference. It's a gift that I'm honored to be entrusted with and one I do not take for granted.

Greg Gauthier, France

HandzonRadio.com

How did you get into House Music?

Sad story: my neighbor gave me his records collection and his system before he died from aids around ‘91, I was 17...few weeks later someone gave me a tape from Frankie Knuckles recorded on a radio in NY, I was hooked!

Who are your influences? Why?

Back in the days Regisford, (Danny) Krivit, Knuckles, Morales ‘cause these are the first guys I’ve heard playing house with soul… I also like all kind of music not only house: R&B, jazz, salsa, old French, music etc... I always try to put some of that in my shows.

How do you prepare for your show? What determines your line-up?

In my show I usually play the songs that had a good response 3 days before at my weekly party ; "dance culture" at Djoon, I’m also more free to play songs you can't dance to , and I like that!

What is your signature sound?

I play everything that is soul, could (it)be African soul, gospel, Latin or whatever....even if its just a beat it got to have some soul in it. To me it ain't no worst music than house with no soul!

What was your favorite House Party? What was your "getting ready" ritual?

Favorite party: underground network, shelter, 718 sessions, libation, ANBHP (Aint Nothing But a House Party)....and of course dance culture every Sunday at Djoon ;) Not eat too much, so I can dance!!!!  Calling my friends, a good Disco nap and I’m ready!

TBass

Radio.JerseyDjs.com

How did you get into House Music?

I got into House Music when I lived in Baltimore.  A friend used to come and tell me about this club he went to, and said that I should check it out.  This spot in Baltimore was called Odell's and their slogan was "You'll Know If You Belong".  The first time going, I was 16 back in 1986, and I couldn't believe what I was hearing.  I knew I found my music and my sound.

Who are your influences? Why?

My influences as far as DJing are concern would be a few people: DJs Camacho, Karizma, Kerri Chandler, Tony Motley, Louie Vega, and I have been compared to Larry Levan (I never got to hear him play.). I love the way these DJs would command the crowd and made people dance, cry, laugh, and feel the music.  As far as music is concern, my influences are many, because I love many different types of music.  I can be soulful, afro, tribal, Techno, electro, funky, tracky, vocal, classic, punk, 80's top 40 and other various styles when I spend.  It all depends on my mood.

How do you prepare for your show? What determines your line-up?  

To be truthful, I don't prepare for a show or a gig.  I basically try to figure out what my first song is going to be and go from there; I try not to worry about the rest, because that depends on the crowd.  My thing is, I could be playing a hot song and the crowd may not be feeling it, so, then I have to switch gears and find something to bring them back and then take them to the next level.  Anyone that is preparing and or practicing for a show is never prepared for the crowd (my opinion ... lol).

 What is your signature sound?

 I guess my most standout sound is my soulful side...... since I love sounds.  The songs with instruments in it get me most, and then you add a great singer on it...... I'm done, “flat-lined” as they say (laughing).

Favorite House Party? What was your "getting ready" ritual? 

So far my favorite House Party was when I used to play at The Mirage (downtown Newark, NJ).  This club/bar was located down the street from The Zanzibar and we had fun playing.  At that time I was the opening DJ Friday and Saturday nights.  On Friday I used to open for DJs Mike Harris and David Camacho, and then turn around and open up on Saturday for DJs Naeem Johnson (WBLS) and Jihad Muhammad.  Those was learning times for me.  I had no ritual for going, just came to play and then enjoy dancing when I was done.

Enjoying House Music, whether online or live, is an activity that I engage in on a daily basis, whether getting ready for work, during work, after work affairs, or nightlife pleasure. Everyday I speak to someone who loves house music. Most of my friends of different backgrounds and interests come together on one accord for the love of House music. I talk to DJs regularly and often give my ear and voice for feedback. I feel my place among the House Music community and I am constantly developing personal and professional relationships within the industry. I am growing and changing, just like the music.