Episode Details

‘That one was hard', i thought loudly to myself, finishing one banana and reaching to quickly peel another–I had been famished, and by force of nature had broken the predominant rule of fast–not to interact with the public, and therefore had been quick to hurry the fast to a finish; now that it had been s long in the understanding of the spiritual connotations of fasting, i knew never to attempt a show–especially a long DJ set, without having eaten, especially well; I needed to maintain focus, and as my career began to shift heavily, I became quite religious to certain superstition and routine of course, never allowing myself to fall prey to anything too ridiculous; I had been thoroughly taken advantage of–and knew certainly by now there was no room for error or mistakes, misjudgement of character– and I myself, perhaps just a canvas–rather than an unfriendly mirror most would be unwilling to face.

The last and first thing I had consumed had been coffee– a lightly brewed vanilla bean which had exceeded most of the coffee I had consumed during my time in new york by far –a daily staple and absolute necessity, learning harshly from having spent tolerance breaks and unwilling days without coffee begging God for a glimpse of light; Alas, it had come to the point in my adulthood that certain things were just part of me–and coffee was one of them, a welcome and at least usually warm antidote for what seemed to be more often than not a cold, heartless world.

But today, the sun shone and spread light and joy into my heart and mind a I trekked the nearly one mile walk to a nearby asian fusion restaurant that I had avoided before, but now was unwilling to suffer the consequences of a 4-hour set during a fast in which I spent a devoted amount of time and energy in the early morning amidst the miserable and robotic drones of the early morning commute–I was at least happy to have poured through a decent chapter or two of the books that I had finally climbed from the plateau of reading–a book about the rich history of the underground–a well-written journey into the past of a world I loved, but had become so distant from, in my heart and mind, but never in my soul– my own collection of unique and eclectic mixtapes growing daily, my own skill surpassing even my expectations–but it wasn'tmy expectation that I needed to surpass: i had yet to attract the attention of the greats–or even the lower-level promoters and managers which would spark my entry into the dance-club scene, elevating my professional DJ career from playing in parties, bars, and strip clubs and into the actual raves, clubs, and festivals that my soul came from –and called back out to, between the lines and hidden subliminal messages coded deep in the basslines, drops, and 4-to-the-floor anthems I curated with such forceful thought and empathy into my sets and mixes–mixes made of course with love on the mind and deep in my soul but seemingly nowhere to be found, lost in translation and unrequited, reverberated in the emotional undertones of the music I played day in, and day out, sometimes with tears in my eyes, but always with God on my shoulders, most often whispering the next selection into my mind's eye – my music a leap in blind faith.

‘Fuck, I do feel better.'

The Pad Thai hadn't been great at all, but it had been enough to soothe the intense waves of dissociative dissolution and disconnect that came with each and every passing fast–and with each one an honorable lesson in gratitude, for all that had come with my sacred journey: Now, I was a true DJ.

I don't know why imm looking for

Platinum delusions

“I have a question”,

Well, there goes your l answer l;

There goes your skeleton, creeping out the back door—

There goes your relevance,

An acelance,

A metaphor

Is that what you asked for?

You looked in the wrong