So the other day my mom invited me to her house for dinner. I brought my dog Sophia with me. Sophia is beautiful and loving. She looks like this That’s not even really the greatest picture in terms of capturing her playful and gentle nature but whatever, the point is that she’s not some bulky Rottweiler that drools all over the place and growls at everything that movies. She basically wants to play with her toys and anyone that will throw them around for her....chase birds and squirrels, and be pet.
So I’m walking down the street that my mom’s apartment is on (9th Street in the Ballston area of Arlington) and there’s a guy walking his Golden Retriever coming towards us. He turns up the stairs to the building that my mom lives in and naturally, I do the same and I’m about 5 feet behind him. Also naturally, was Sophia’s eagerness to go and sniff the other dog and investigate it in a curious manner. The expression on the guy’s face upon seen Sophia and me was one of annoyance.
I’m used to getting looks like that when I’m with Sophia. I don’t think it has only to do with Sophia being a Rottweiler though. I think it’s the combination of that, and the fact that I’m tall, beautiful, have long and slender legs, and that my aura encompasses confidence, self-assurance, and awesomeness. This time however, I was immediately irked by this individual. I think it was his pathetic demeanor, his simple clothing and his stupid fucking face which lacked any traits of a man whatsoever. Anyway, he walked through the doors and as he looked to the right to activate the magnet from his keys, he turned back to me and simply said, "No, no, no, no." I was caught between a state of utter confusion and severe irritation. "No, no, no, no? What the FUCK are you blathering about you ignorant bastard," I wanted to ask him. In fact, I demanded an explanation, and I didn’t hide my vexation when I slowly and with pauses between my words asked, "WHAT.....are....you talking about?!" He replied, "Stop following me." I wanted to kick him in the face. Visions of me knocking him into the wall and onto the ground while snarling over his pathetic sack of skin and bones played in my head. I imagined making a tremendous scene, smashing his sternum in with my size 13 shoes while screaming at what a fool and a jack ass he was. How fucking dare he make nonsensical statements at me like that? I angrily replied, "This is the fucking building I’m going into asshole, what’s the matter with you?!?!." He replied, "Dude, I don’t want your dog near my dog. At this point I was prepared to just completely kill this motherfucker because clearly, there was no reason for him to exist. His very being had become a painful and bothersome thorn in my side, and I needed to remove it by blasting him apart with a bazooka. The whole scene played out in my head like a cartoon. You know? Where like, Daffy Duck can just reach into the feathers on his side and pull out a cannon or a laser gun and just fire away? That’s what it was like. Unfortunately, since I couldn’t do any of that, I just scolded him and told him to hurry the fuck up, stop talking and just walk upstairs and quit delaying me with this vaginal behavior. I don’t think I’ll ever get over what a tool this guy was. I mean, if he’s the one that’s such a bitch and so scared, shouldn’t he be the one deferring to me? It’s all good though....like I said, i’m six six, beautiful and my legs are long and slender.

Jazmin for da moment says:
ur no fun..........
Jazmin for da moment says:
oh by the way remember when u came? and u kept on saying "doggy style" well i asked my health teacher what it meant and she almost slapped me

Luis says:
NOO

Luis says:
BOOOZING

Jazmin for da moment says:
w/e

Jazmin for da moment says:
loser

Luis says:
YOU GOT IN TROUBLE

Luis says:
???

Luis says:
AT SCHOOL

Jazmin for da moment says:
yes

Jazmin for da moment says:
well she told me it was "sex talk"

Jazmin for da moment says:
and this other kid asked sumthing like that and HE got in trouble
Jazmin for da moment says:
but i didnt



When I asked him who the girl was, he said it was his ten year old niece. Way to go Luis. :)

I hadn't been out in a while. My dad is here from Greece for three more weeks and I've actually been staying in a lot. Last night was my first night out in a long time. I dressed up in a pathetic but funny disguise that was good enough to confused some of the people who know me best and allowed me to remain anonymous to the people who just know who I am. I went to Ibiza for Glow so I could get djing lesson from the mighty Dan Sampson. That's right. I, George K, need djing lessons. I'm not that great a dj so if anyone out there wants to teach me a thing or two, I could use a lending hand.
Ibiza is a phenomenal club and Glow throws great, great parties. My friend Melissa bartends there. There's times when I'm in love with her. She's the kind of person that you talk to for five minutes and you think that there's nothing wrong in the world. The fact that she's a really pretty girl obviously helps with that, but her personality is engrossingly winning, warm and wonderful. She also trusts me enough to let me walk away from the bar with her scissors. She's very much WM (wife material).
After Ibiza I drove over to the area on K Street NW between 12th and 14th Streets. That's where K Street Lounge, Lima, The Park, Lotus, Tattoo and the brand new Josephine's. My boys had a table there. I went over. The first thing I noticed was the group of girls going in. I knew one of them and I have seen several of them before. I didn't need to go in to know what kind of place it was going to be. I could tell just by looking at the people in line. It'd be a commercial venue and certainly there'd be shitty music. If it was house, then it'd be a collection of all the played-out house anthems of the last two years (World Hold On, Love Is Gone, Party All The Time, and my personal favorite....This Is Miami), and if it was top 40...well, just listen to the radio and if you can call that real music then we probably won't agree on a lot of things.
Because of my costume I was denied at the door. I didn't really care. My friend was working the door and he's a part owner. He said, "Man, it's opening night, I can't let you in. I mean...you can't be wearing a costume..you gotta look good." I said, "I'm wearing a suit." He said he couldn't do it without regret I said "good night" and walked away. I will probably never go back. As my boy Babak put it later that night, "How many times can you go to the same place and be depressed?"
I drove down to Adam's Morgan and met up with my boys Babak and Navid at a place called Rendezvous. Rendezvous is all the way at the bottom of that strip of ugliness, filth and hood that is the majority of the 18th St strip in Adam's Morgan. It's small, smells kind of moldy, and has a very sexy dark red paint on the walls. There are some obscure paintings hanging on the wall, and this gives it a nice homey feel. The soundsystem in there is pretty crappy.
The scene in there last night was what I live for; filthy, grimy, funky minimal music was coming out of the speakers. When the bass was on too high they'd start crack. Nobody cared or noticed. It was awesome. A lot of my friends were there...real music heads. I was the only guy in a suit and it didn't matter because it was clearly a joke that went along with the rest of my disguise. "That guy looks a lot like Geoge K," I heard. It was like being in a house party with a bar full of friends that you were waiting to meet. Hands up in the air, bodies swaying, people cheering. When did all the swank end up in a shitty bar in Adam's Morgan? I fucking love this place, and will be back again and again.

Last night was my first night out djing in a long time. Actually, it'd been about two weeks since I'd last played. I also hadn't gone out partying in what feels like a month, so it was a great opportunity to also get hammered. I stopped by a beer store and picked up a sixer of some blueberry beer (9.5% abv), some really hoppy beer that's brewed in Baltimore (7.2%abv), a deuce of Rogue Irish Style Lager, and a deuce of Stone Arrogant Bastard, which is also pretty strong. From there, I went over to my boy Manny's place and along with our buddy Calen we put a couple beers away and then cabbed it over to Ibiza where I was opening up for Saeed Younan.
I'm not really going to get into that part of the night because the crowd was kind of whack until about 12:15, and during that time the floor would fill up, empty out, and then fill up again. I was playing some older house tracks during that time..but really solid records that I've always thought of as being great for getting a big room moving. At about 12:15 though, the club had filled up and people were getting into it. It's about this time that I was playing more techno and then switched back to groovy, funky and techy house to set Saeed up so he could do his thing. Saeed is a really fucking cool guy by the way and a solid, solid dj and producer. I must also stress that I was very, very hammered pretty much from the moment I got to Ibiza and it only got worse as the night went on.
At some point during the night, some kid had made his way into the booth while I was playing, and we talked for about a half hour. He kept talking about how The Park (this new place that's opened up) is totally beat and they wouldn't let him in because he had on white shoes. A bunch of mutual friends of ours were there for my boy Johnny's birthday party (we'll get to that later), and it was at this time that I realized this "kid" was actually a friend of mine named Navid that I'd met a few times through my buddy Babak.
The rest of my night at Ibiza is kind of a blur, but I remember Saeed playing a killer set and the crowd really, really loving it.
I have great friends. They decided to leave me at the club! Navid and I walked out together along with his sister and some guy with dreads who plays with Thievery Corporation. At this time, another buddy of mine named Hagana gave me a call. The circumstances under which Hagana and I met and eventually became friends are...kind of fucked up, but he's one of my favorite people. Hagana was with Babak and they were both looking for something to do because their night had gone apparently gone down like the Titanic. I put Hagana on the phone with Navid because I had no idea what was going on at this point, and apparently a meet up point was given. We went back to a this girl Suzy's apartment where I was asked to play music. "There's no dj equipment," I replied. Then they said I just should just start playing my cd's in through the computer, and I had to explain that "it doesn't really work like that." It was about 3:30 at this time...maybe a bit later, when Hagana and Babak called back and said they were downstairs. I can't stress enough how overly excited I was that these guys were showing up. I have no reservations about openly stating that Babak and I have man-crushes on each other (think like...how the Chief feels about R.P. McMurphy in Kesey's most famous novel), and I want to stress again how much I fucking love hanging out with Hagana.
We went back upstairs were I had the strongest Gin/Tonic of my entire life. I guess I should describe the scene here. Basically, we were in a really nice single bedroom apartment that had zero furniture except for a few bar stools and two speakers connected to a 17 inch mac book pro which was sitting on top of what looked like a massive antique radio box. I mean this thing was like, five and a half feet tall. There was a beautiful persian rug in the middle of the floor, and a blur of people talking about everything from music to the Iranian revolution were partying and boozing around the kitchen area. At some point, one of Hagana and Babak's friends from out of town was reported drunk and trying to get into Babak's building, and a cab transport needed to be orchestrated because in the last week, three people have been violently mugged down the street from Babak's building. I don't really know how exactly the rescue was conceived or put into effect, and apparently it also failed because the person being rescued didn't even make it to his destination. Anyway....at this point (it's not maybe four or four thirty), I was told we were all going to a late night party and that I'd be djing. Obviously I was down. I was drunk and having one of the best nights I've had in a really long time.
The party was in a huge townhouse in Adam's Morgan. We walked in and bodies were just strewn throughout the living room and there were a few people wandering around. Propaganda flyers were all over the place and every piece of art in the place was very "pro-revolution." The people wandering around were hippies, hipsters and "artsy." They were the kind of people who would come up to you at a dead show and tell you how much they like your "aura." The dj set up was very legit for a house inhabited by hippies. There was a guy playing some old jazzy sounding stuff, and he said he'd be really happy if I came on to play a bit.
What happened next is one of the weirdest things I've ever seen, and words can't accurately describe what took place, but it was really something incredible. I started playing really minimal and techy music at 126 bpms, and almost immediately, hippies started growing out onto the dance floor from the cracks in the wall and from underneath the furniture. It was like the wood nymphs emerging for a summer festival in something like A Midsummer Night's Dream. It was like when you're watching the nature channel, and they speed up the development of a plant growing buds and the buds blossoming, except that it was hippies that were sprouting up left and right. And the dancing was....I don't know...looking back it felt like everything was in slow motion and that people were floating across the room, bobbing up and down like a bottle floating on the ocean. There were all different dance styles going on...two people were engaged in a "Simon Says do Tai Chi in slow motion kind of thing...a sixty five year old hippie with long white hair and a long white beard was just kind of grooving. I don't think he'd ever heard music like that before. Of course there were some people just grinding, but over all, the room had become a living thing all of a sudden. I felt like I was on LSD or something. Not that I've ever done that, but I imagine it'd be something like what I was seeing.....people just growing out of furniture and dancing like smoke rising from a stick of incense. I played for about an hour I guess..and it was maybe 6:15 when I said that I was finished playing. I walked through the room to use the bathroom and people surrounded me to tell me they loved the set and that I had the spirit of a true "activist" in my style. I don't know what that meant. As a group, I kind of hate hippies. Well maybe not, I don't know. Maybe it's just cliche to hate them, because they're all so nice and peaceful. Anyway, Babak, Hagana and I dipped out and went to Babak's, where he thought it'd be a great idea to make us a five egg omelette with garlic, tomatoes, milk, jalapenos and crispy prosciutto and all I can say is...it really, really hit the spot. The sun was completey up now and the last thing I remember is chugging some water (Hagana opted for a glass of vodka on the rocks)) and Babak literally tucking me in to the spare bed in the extra room of his apartment. It was probably seven thirty at this point.
To say that I woke up doesn't really seem appropriate because I wasn't actually awake. It's more appropriate to say that I opened my eyes at eleven thirty am, rolled over on to my side, and could only think of wanting to kill myself because the physical anguish that I was suffering was completely overwhelming. In fact, I didn't even want to exert the effort it would take to kill myself..I just wanted to die. The most overbearing and possessive girlfriend I ever had doesn't compare to how miserable I was feeling that morning. My head was pounding. It felt like being in the ring with Mike Tyson and he'd been preparing for the fight by smoking pcp, so he was extra crazy and violent. My entire body was aching, and I felt as though my stomach was a cooking pot churning with corrosive bile that was being pumped up my esophagus and I was going to vomit at any moment. I really wanted to just start crying, and the only comfort was that everything I remembered from last night COULD have been real. I actually wasn't sure anymore because it was so bizarre and fun.
I stayed in bed for about ten more minutes, and then made my way into the kitchen. Hagana was passed out face down on the floor, still wearing his jeans and t-shirt. Sunlight was coming through the window and hitting his entire body except for his face, which was shielded behind the side of the couch. I wanted so badly for him to wake up so that I had someone else to feel miserable with, but he kept sleeping soundly. I pounded some more water and looked for some tylenol. Apparently Babak is a Christian Scientist because there's no medicine in his entire fucking apartment. Hagana finally woke up at about noon, and he probably felt worse than I did. He kept groaning and and yelling, "Ahhhhhhhh FUCK," and "DAMN IT." I found this extremely funny and kept repeating "damn it" in my head, just the way that Hagana was saying it. I want to stress again how awful and terrible I felt. I thought I was going to start throwing up at any moment to be honest, and my eyes were throbbing violently. I started reading a history book by Howard Zinn which is titled "A People's History of the United States." Its first chapter stresses how the founding of America was based on the violent extermination and brutal murder of the native americans. Way to go Christopher Columbus...you Spanish fuck. You phony hero. You are the embodiment of blasphemy.
There was some stirring from Babak's room, so I walked in and got in his bed, spooned him and said good morning. He was so pale that his skin was a faint green, and he was croaking more than he was speaking actual words. I went back to the living room and Babak eventually crawled (literally) out of the room to join Hagana and me. The funniest thing was that he was carring a pillow in one hand and just as he started to fall forward he tossed the pillow in a sloth-like manner so that he'd have something soft to land on. This all happened in slow motion. We discussed morning wood. I learned that whenever Hagana has morning wood, he sits down to urinate because it's apparently bad for a guy to push down on his erection. I asked him how, if he's sitting down with a boner, he doesn't end up pissing all over himself and he said that he leans really far forward.
At this point we tried to figure out how we all ended up hanging out together. Babak told me that basically he'd been having the worst night of his life, and that he wants to go back to the Park, shake the owners hand and then burn the place down. He was there for our boy Johnny's birthday, and people were apparently completely hammered early on. There was a girl there....I don't know her name but we'll just call her Pandora. Pandora became disgustingly drunk...to the point that she was throwing herself on dudes but they just looked at her in disgust because she was so hammered. Babak explained that she was bound to get kicked out..and sure enough she did. For some reason, Johnny was taking care of her..it was only about 12:30...when she was put in his car, ( a brand new six series) and she just vomited all over the inside. Fucking amateurs...I mean come on...TWELVE THIRTY??!?! Anyway, I wasn't there for all of it, but that's what was relayed to me from Babak. Somehow, Hagana and Babak ended up going back to Babak's and it was about three that Hagana said, "Hey...George is probably finishing up djing now...give hime a call." So that's how we all ended up meeting up at that girl Suzy's place....but I still don't really know how we ended up at the hippie hang out. Later I found out that it was a going away party for this guy named Shahid Buttar, who is a poet, political activist, musician and a lawyer. You can check out his work at www.shahidbuttar.com
Anyway, by about one fifteen, the three of us were at about 12% brain capacity, which was enough for Babak to drive us back to my car. We all ate some pho and continued talking about how really amazing the night had been. I don't usually post blogs about how awesome my nights are...but this one had been so bizarre I wanted to put it into words. I know that I failed miserably, but that was it none the less.

I'm writing this blog to show some appreciation to my dad, who always has been the man, but is now outdoing himself.

A little bit of background on my dad:

He's pretty good at ping pong (but not as good as his older brother Demetri)

He used to fight with Demetri all the time, and he once threw scissors at him
out of pure frustration, though at the last moment, he held back his arm so as
to release them without much force

He has a secret little handshake with his youngest brother Constantine
where they just shake with their pinky fingers

He has a scar on his cheek that was caused by a flying piece of hot steel
from when he was working in a factory. My dad has back probelms now that I think can be attributed to me, because he used to carry me around on his back all the time. And he once also broke his leg in Greece, and I think it was again, because of me. Sorry about that dad. :)
One time when he and I were in north-eastern part of Greece, we were walking a distance of about a mile and a half, from one enormous monastery to another, and he heard me huffing and puffing and he looked at me and said, "George...you've gotten FAT! You really need to get more exercise.

My dad has a Ph.D and was a senior economist for the World Bank.

My dad is the man. He's outdoing himself now because after he retired from the World Bank, he moved to Greece. In Greece he got himself into apartment in Athens, found it to be too loud there and moved again. Then he came back to the US to visit for a while and he ended up buying a SICK, SICK bachelor's pad of a place in Reston, VA. I had been living in Rockville for the last two years. I can't emphasize enough how awesome my dad's house in Reston is. Three story, three bedroom townhouse with beautiful upgrades. Granite countertops, spacious rooms that my dog Sophia loves, and a beautiful, beautiful view of a lake in the back yard. There's also a beautiful garden (it will get more beautiful with my help), and its' about five minutes away from Reston Town Center. Anyway, a few months ago, he suggested that I just move into his place (it's actually in my name, my sister's name, and my mom's name) in Reston, and I just rent out the place in Rockville.
This opportunity couldn't have come at a better time since in the next couple of months I'll be getting myself incorporated as a DJ in order to get the legal benefits of working for myself. SOOO, thank you dad, for continuing to be so incredible. I love you.


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I'll try to sum up a funny story that happened a few years ago:

I got a vasectomy.

I met a girl soon afterwards. She was nice and attractive but with a selfish streak that raised a big red flag. She was 32 at the time and I could practically HEAR her biological clock ticking. Regardless, she was a good lay, easy on the eyes, and reasonably good company.

I did NOT tell her about my vasectomy and I always used a condom with her to protect against STDs. She assumed, obviously, that the condom was only used for birth control. Silly girl.

We date for a few months. I never made any move towards commitment but she brought it up ocassionally. For me, this was a casual but pleasant relationship. For her - as I was to find out - it was part of life-changing series of events that she was planning very carefully.

Four months into dating, I get the "I'm pregnant" talk. She's going on and on about how the condom must have broke and now we really need to think about getting married "for the baby". She's positively giddy. She has a baby in her and she thinks she's gonna have a good meal ticket (me) to go along with her new 7lb annuity.

At this point, I'm just as giddy. I get to pull the reverse "oops" on her. I figured that she slept with some bad boy and got knocked up. Good thing I was using condoms! Better still that I have a serious mistrust of women who can't think beyond their own uteri.

So I wait a couple of days to "think about all this." I meet her again. I say I don't want kids and that she should have an abortion. I know where this is going and sure enough it goes there. She goes completely batshit insane on me. There were the usual insults about my manhood. There were threats of legal action. It was all very ugly and I was loving every minute of it.

Well, I let her stew for a few days. She leaves me nasty messages on my phone. She sends awful emails. I'm laughing hysterically.

It was time to drop the hammer. While she was stewing I was busy. First I get a notarized copy from the urologist who performed the vasectomy. Next I get a notarized copy of the TWO test results indicating a "negative test result for sperm" to show I'm sterile and shooting blanks. Finally, I get a letter from a shark attorney stating he has seen the other documents and is prepared to litigate against this woman if she continues to communicate with me in such an unpleasant manner. Also, the letter states that we will insist on DNA testing to show that the baby is not mine. I'm ready.

I meet with this woman at her place. I bring flowers and a small bit of jewelry to show I am willing to reconcile and assume my responsibilities as a new father. I also have stuck in my pocket the documents I have prepared.

She's all giddy again. Her plan is going perfectly - or so she thinks. We talk about our future. We have some pretty good sex. Then, as I am about to walk out the door, I ask her the $64,000 question. "Are you sure that this baby is mine?"

Well, she goes batshit insane again. Hell, she ought to. Her plan could completely unravel if there is ANY question about my paternity. Oh, she's really screaming now. How dare I question her morals. Do I think she's a slut. I'm just trying to weasel out of my responsibilities... blah, blah, blah, yadda, yadda, yadda.

I'm not really mad. I'm kind of embarrassed for her. But since she won't shut up and the neighbors can hear all of this, I ask her to step back inside and sit down. She sits on the sofa and calms down a bit. She is glaring at me with all the moral self-righteousness that only a woman can muster up. She thinks she has me trapped. She is 100% convinced her plan has worked. Oh, the tangled web of lies and deceit she has wrought around herself and I am about to hack through them with a few pieces of paper.

I reach into my pocket slowly. I extract the three pieces of paper and unfold them slowly and deliberately.

I tell her simply, "You're screwed".

Her look doesn't change. There is no way she can fathom what I have prepared.

I continue. "I am sterile"

Her look changes just a bit. Something is beginning to sink in. Naturally, she reverts to women's logic. "You're full of shit. You're trapped and you know it."

I hold up the letter and the test results. "Three months before we met, I had a vasectomy. Here is a notarized letter from him stating what I had done. Here are two test results showing that I tested negative for the presence of sperm. Blanks. I am shooting blanks. That baby inside you is simply not mine."

This woman is not to be swayed by logic and clear documentation. "Bullshit, those are fakes."

I was ready for that. "No, they are real. This last piece of paper is from my attorney. It's a simple letter to you that states if you pursue any kind of legal action against me for child support that I will insist on a DNA test to prove paternity, that is, to prove that your baby is not mine."

I give the woman all the documents. She reads them slowly, deliberately. With each passing second she can feel in her soul that she has made a very bad mistake. With denial swept away, she started to cry. It's a small cry at first. Then it becomes deeper and more painful. By the time she gets to the letter from the lawyer she is sobbing.

I had no sympathy for her. I turned and walked out the door. Even after I closed the door I could still hear her sobbing.

Epilogue -

I never heard directly from this woman again. I did hear through my friends that she did indeed have the baby. I also heard that the real father was some guy in a band she had met. I assumed that after 30, women stopped going after musicians, bikers, criminals, and thugs. Silly me for thinking the best of American women.

The Moral of the Story -

Get a vasectomy but keep it a secret.

Just read itid=2008&comments=show



The responses are just as, if not more amazing, than the article itself. This article hit close to home because I see the people mentioned in the article every day..and I laugh and laugh and laugh. And then I remember that those people are in many ways so much like me. And then I laugh even harder.

http://www.sendspace.com/file/m3p9vz





Tracklisting

1) Patrick Bateman Intro

2) Trentemoller-Take Me Into Your Skin

3) Martinez-Echochamber

4) Alexander Roland-Auftrieb

5) Artifical Latvamaki-Song to the Machine That Built The Sun

6) Mihalis Saffras-Sabbath

7) Misstress Barbara-Barcelona

8)Phonogenic-Dubby Cop (Boogie Drama)

9)Einmusic-Half Moon Tiger

10) The Screetch-The Screetch (Dusty Kid)

11) Len Faki-Rainbow Delta

12) Justin Martin-The Sad Piano


Patrick Bateman, the American Psycho created by Brett Easton Ellis. He is methodical, brilliant, wealthy and has a penchant for expensive taste. He knows nothing about class and is a loser, but you still gotta love the guy.

Take Me Into Your Skin. I heard this song and at once realized that it would be difficult to place in a mix, but it was a beautifuly dark track that I had to have.

Martinez Echochamber-This is a track that can be used in many different ways. It's a good filler and its' a good track to lay down before you drop some heat. Here I put it in the beggining of the mix to set the mood. Dark and fuzzy throbbing basslines with bleeps and bloops.

Alexander Roland-Auftrieb Whoa 909 or 303...this is a scorcher that I can't get enough of. This track is brilliant. It really gets things moving but it's a great for changing directions in a mix. You can go anywhere with this track. I went into another filler called Song To The Machine That Built The Sun. It's fun, groovy, funky, techy, dreamy. It's a hell of a track. It's like a walk in the park or ride in a small dingy down a river that's got some rapids here and there. I tease Mihalis Saffras' track "Sabbath" in and out as well. Sabbath is some nasty minimal that had to grow on me. Go Greek names!

Misstress Barbara-I first heard of her when I picked up her Relenltess Beats Vol 1 cd and I think I formed an imaginary relationship with her. Not a romantic one...just one where we hung out and played records and stuff. She is talented in so many ways. She makes great music, drops SOLID, SOLID tracks when she plays, and is one of those people that doesn't speak much but says a lot. I've always admired her. I have always found her work to be very emotionaly appealing, and I guess I'm a sucker for emotions. On Barcelona she outdid herself. It's a beautiful track but still rough around the edges to give it a big sound.

I kind of take it down a notch on the next track. Phonogenic-Dubby Cop is, big surprise, a dubby little gem compimented with melodic key stabs. It's another nice little filler.

Ienmusic-Half Moon Tiger Who are these guys and where did they come from? This is one of my favorite tracks and it's something I'll be playing for a while. I remember I played this track at Glow in Washington DC a few weeks back and as soon as the bassline came in, the crowd went wild. People were coming up to me and asking who it was. In fact tonight I'm playing with Paolo Mojo, Dubfire and Cedric, and I'm sure this is a track that will get dropped. It's got some eerie sounds, dubby percussion, and some really full, earthy wind instrument sounds going on. It's an amazing and emotional track.

The Screetch is a track that so saturated with heavy sounds it can barely walk. It's a good thing that this track starts at the top of a steady incline, and it just builds and builds like a snowball rolling down the side of a mountain.

Len Faki-I love techno. I have always loved techno, and I always will.

I close the set out with Just Martin's The Sad Piano. This piano isn't sad. It's in a full on depression and under heavy doses of Prozac. It's a beautiful track, and it echoes in my head after the mix is over. It kind of reminds me of saying goodbye to a person you love, and feeling the heavyness in your heart after the person is gone.

It was a beautiful spring day. I drove out to Annapolis.
I drove through the woods.
It wasn't like winter when everything looked dead.
I wasn't scared that Casey would come out of the house holding an axe to kill me with.

Do you remember how to use Fruity Loops, Casey asked?
What's Fruity Loops?

Kick drum...no...not that one. It needs to be a bit punchier
in the beginning of the track and then we'll drop the heavy one.
Tweak the kick, tweak the kick....M-A-N-I-P-U-L-A-T-E it.

I wish we had a real drum set here. I know how to play it.
Just keep looking Casey said.
Fuity loops, you're so special. You can tire me out and get
me going. You make me want to dance naked in a room
full of drunken maidens. Sometimes you make me want
to dive headfirst into an on-coming MACK truck.

Let's lay down the bassline. How should it go? Does it need
one? I feel like those drums are the bassline. I KNOW!
WE'LL FILTER THE DRUMS AND THEN DROP THE BASSLINE!
YES, YES Casey replied.
OK, ready! YES!
Ok, GOOD! But how will the bassline go? Let me hum a bit.

Have you ever shot a fox before, Casey asked?
No Casey. That's something I've never done. Can I shoot
that bottle? Will it hurt my dog? Yes, Casey said.
This will sound wierd Casey, but I want you to shoot me with that gun.
Uhhh, what?
"I want you to shoot me as hard as you can."
No, it will hurt. It will probably go through the skin.
He really does make almost a million dollars a month.

We have a bass line, but I think it needs another melody.
You mean we're not done yet? Ok, let's make it like this.
Not that dirty..it's starting to become a melancholic song.
"Do you miss her," Casey asked.
Take that sound and make it start to echo and refrain.
That way it will keep playing in your head.

Hi Casey's mom.
What are you boys going to call this one? I like it.
Is this something that you'd play, George?


Oh yeah, definitely. Probably this Friday.

Hello everyone
in case you're wondering what happened to my page, someoneo hacked into my e-mail adresses and then into my two myspace accounts and cancelled them. But, you can't ever
hold down a good thing forever, so here I am...at it again. :)

Sorry for the inconvenience that it has caused to you (the inconvenience it's causing me has been tremendous), but hopefully things will be back to normal again soon.

Love,
George :)