Saturday, March 26, 2011

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.


Thursday, March 17, 2011

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.
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.






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.

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.




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.