Podcasts about Drapery

pr project pipeline testimonies building relationships interior design four pillars network like be consistent stay connected website drapery

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 3, 2024 20:55

Welcome to Episode 17 of Behind the Drapery, where we delve into the art of building a robust interior design project pipeline. In this episode, we're exploring four key strategies that will help you attract ideal clients consistently and grow your business sustainably. Whether you're a seasoned designer or just starting out, these insights will set you on the path to success.#### Episode Highlights:1. **PR and Editorial** - **Importance of PR and Editorial**: Discover how public relations and editorial features can elevate your brand and establish you as an authority in the interior design industry. - **Getting Featured**: Tips on how to pitch your projects to design magazines, blogs, and online publications. - **Building Relationships with Editors**: Learn how to create and maintain relationships with key editors and journalists to ensure ongoing coverage.2. **Trade Partner and Vendor Referrals** - **Leveraging Industry Relationships**: Understand the power of networking with trade partners and vendors to generate referrals. - **Creating Win-Win Partnerships**: Strategies for building mutually beneficial relationships with suppliers, contractors, and other industry professionals. - **Maintaining Long-Term Connections**: How to keep these relationships strong and productive over time.3. **Happy Client Word of Mouth** - **Delivering Exceptional Service**: The importance of exceeding client expectations to turn them into advocates for your business. - **Encouraging Referrals**: Techniques to encourage satisfied clients to refer you to their network. - **Testimonies and Reviews**: Utilizing client testimonials and reviews to build credibility and attract new clients.4. **Social Media Integration** - **Amplifying Your Reach**: How to use social media to showcase your work and reach a broader audience. - **Content Strategy**: Creating content that highlights your PR features, trade partnerships, and client success stories. - **Engagement Tactics**: Best practices for engaging with your audience and turning followers into clients.#### Actionable Tips:- **Pitch Perfect**: Craft a compelling pitch for editors highlighting your unique design perspective and successful projects.- **Network Like a Pro**: Attend industry events and engage with vendors and trade partners to foster strong relationships.- **Ask for Reviews**: After completing a project, ask clients for testimonials and reviews to enhance your online presence.- **Be Consistent on Social**: Regularly post high-quality images of your work, client testimonials, and PR features to keep your audience engaged.#### Listener Challenge:Implement one of these strategies in the next month and share your success story with us! Tag us on social media @behindthedrapery and use the hashtag #DesignPipelineSuccess.#### Stay Connected:- **Website**: lizlevininteriors.com- **Instagram**: @lizlevininteriors#### Subscribe & Review:If you enjoyed this episode, please subscribe to the podcast and leave a review on [Apple Podcasts/Spotify/Your Preferred Platform]. Your feedback helps us bring more valuable content to you!Join us next week as we dive into another essential topic for growing your interior design business. Thank you for listening!

413 - Listener Favorite - Gillian Wendel

art owner bfa past presidents texas christian university wendel drapery

Play Episode Listen Later May 19, 2024 54:16

The Wendel Works, started in 1999, is a nationally recognized custom fabrication studio specializing in inspired window and bedding designs. Owner, Gillian Wendel, bring years of fine art and graphics experience to the business as well as drapery expertise. With a BFA from Texas Christian University, she makes sure that a well proportioned design is at the center of every project. Gillian has been a frequent speaker at the annual International Window Coverings Expo as well as teaching at the Custom Sewing Institute for 6 years, a hands on conference, where she illustrated such topics as details and embellishments, hand sewing and headboards. She is a three time winner of the IWCE Vision Ingenuity Contest, a member of The Drapery and Design Professional Network, and Past President of the Houston Area Custom Drapery Association. Her work was recently included in Charles Randall's new book, Designer Window Fashions. Gillian is on Facebook and Instagram You can see her work here; www.picturetrail.com/wendelworks Links and Resources; I do use some affiliate links, so if you use them, I may make a little money, so I need to let you know this! Charles Randall's Designer Window Fashions is available from The Workroom Channel Rekonstruktion - Fensterdekorationen Frankreich 1890 The Art of Manipulating Fabric by Colette Wolff

87 - Become a Drapery Detective

The Sew Much More Podcast: 30 Minutes With Workroom Tech

Play Episode Listen Later May 8, 2024 41:56

See more about today's topic on Susan's Workroom Tech Blog. 30 Minutes with Workroom Tech is brought to you by Workroom Tech You can contact Susan at susan@workroomtech.com and Ceil at ceilwdi@gmail.com

detectives drapery

Ep. 359: Uncommon Kitchens with Sophie Donelson

How to Decorate

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 30, 2024 65:41

Get ready for a jolt of kitchen inspiration this week (and some myth-busting) as we re-united with Sophie Donelson, a design expert, journalist, and strategist who celebrates the connection between people and their homes. We last caught up with Sophie back in 2017 (episode #30) when she was the editor-in-chief of House Beautiful Magazine, but this week it's all about her latest book, Uncommon Kitchens: A Revolutionary Approach to the Most Popular Room in the House. Sophie provides insight into kitchen design and trends, reminding us that there are many ways to enjoy one's kitchen. She discusses the idea of “liberated design” -bringing in nostalgic elements that also consider flexibility and functionality rather than following surface-level trends. Sophie shares some great advice on designing spaces that truly reflect how you use your kitchen daily, the “kitchen triangle” concept, and tips on lighting, color palettes, and storage solutions. What You'll Hear On This Episode: It's okay to question and even challenge the trends and come up with your alternative ideas for functional and beautiful spaces! The idea of liberated design, and enjoying spaces without permanent changes. Consider nostalgia when tweaking your kitchen and building new appliances. Sophie's expert thoughts on lighting, storage, and organization spaces. Designing intimate kitchens with lower ceilings and cozy nooks. The importance of perspective and flexibility in design, and focusing on what truly matters rather than superficial appearances. Alternatives to built-in features like banquettes that limit flexibility. Making small, affordable changes before undertaking major renovations. Problem-solving creatively with the space you already have. Incorporating both traditional and modern elements to balance different design aesthetics. Also Mentioned: Ballard Designs Watch the Full Episode - Ballard Designs YouTube Uncommon Kitchens Sophie Donelson: Website | IG Decorating Dilemma: Follow along with this pictures of this week's decorating dilemma here. Thanks, Maggie! What a beautiful space you have to work with. First, Sophie's thoughts are that you should start by focusing on establishing a thoughtful layout. Creating a cozy desk or seating area near the windows, then adding targeted lighting in each space, will help define comfortable vignettes. Area rugs can further separate intimate seating zones. Incorporating traditional architectural details while bringing in modern accessories will help balance your desired aesthetics. Drapery along the walls can frame focal points without needing full coverage. Taking inspiration from your arched entryway, an eye-catching display on the opposite wall may help draw the eye. Don't feel you need to fill every inch - prioritizing functionality and comfort will make the most of your gorgeous Greek Revival home. We're excited to see how your space evolves!

house designing alternatives incorporating uncommon kitchens donelson drapery

Ep. 357: Common Design Mistakes with Minhnuyet Hardy

How to Decorate

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 16, 2024 65:44

Atlanta-based interior designer Minhnuyet Hardy joins us this week to discuss common interior design mistakes and how to avoid them. Minhnuyet shares her expertise on proper rug sizing and orientation, as well as drapery width, hardware placement, and lining importance. She gives some great tips for measuring spaces and hanging artwork at the ideal height, pesky furniture delivery challenges, accessorizing with trays, and grouping small items. What You'll Hear On This Episode: Common rug size mistakes and how to properly size and orient rugs. Custom rug options for unique spaces. Drapery hardware placement and width considerations. Hanging drapery too low or not having it wide enough. Proper artwork hanging height and placement tips. Furniture delivery challenges in tight spaces. Why the tallest person in the house shouldn't be the one hanging artwork. Accessorizing with trays and grouping small items. Ballard Designs Minhnuyet Hardy Watch the Full Episode - Ballard Designs YouTube Minhnuyet Hardy Interiors @minhnuyethardyinteriors Decorating Dilemma: Hi Amy Lynn! Thank you so much for your question - this is a great question. Here are some suggestions: First, painting the mantel trim the same color as the wall will help create a cohesive backdrop that draws the eye to your artwork. We would stack larger art pieces on the mantel that lean against the wall, layering smaller pieces in front. A large mirror with art displayed in front would also look very striking. Additionally, placing some birch logs inside the fireplace will add visual interest year-round. You could also consider stringing battery-operated twinkle lights during the holidays for a festive touch. We hope these ideas help highlight your beautiful original fireplace mantel! Also, be sure to check out our Essential Stocking Holder, it will be sleek and is great for kids!

design mistakes proper hanging hardy furniture drapery accessorizing

Destroying the Drapery | Matthew 17

Nothin' But Fine

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 10, 2024 28:28

Do you know what transfiguration is? Now, if you are a fan of Harry Potter (I am, don't argue with me about it.) you will think of changing things into other things. Like beetles into buttons. This is not what Jesus does on the mountain with Peter, James, and John. I mean I knew that, but I decided to look at what the Greek word used in Matthew 17:2 to clarify exactly what happened. Transfigure: Metamorphoó – changing form in keeping with inner reality; Christ was resplendent with a divine brightness That word looks familiar, doesn't it? And knowing that metamorphosis is the word that is used made all the difference to me. I have seen this passage in an entirely new way. Jesus didn't change into something new. Jesus simply became ALL he was. He changed into his true self. The caterpillar is a butterfly all along, but it has to be a caterpillar first. This got me thinking. In order for Jesus to come to earth he had to dim who he was. He turned down the divine. Otherwise humans would not have been able to look at him. Let's take a little journey to the Old Testament. In Exodus 19, 24, 33, and 34 we see how God appeared to the Israelites. He was a column of fire by night and pillar of smoke by day. A cloud would cover the mountain when he spoke to Moses and the Israelites couldn't even touch the mountain or they would die. However, he appeared to Moses face to face (The LORD would speak to Moses face to face, as a man speaks with his friend. Exodus 33:11). This resulted in Moses shining so brightly that it scared the people to look at him. So Moses wore a veil when he was before them. Exodus 35-40 is all about setting up the tabernacle. God gave very specific instructions how to build it. The materials to be used and the exact measurements. Moses begins to set it up in chapter 40. The first thing he does is the Ark (chapter 37 gives specifications). The Ark goes in the Holy of Holies. The Ark is the presence of God amongst the Israelites. Read the rest of the show notes at our website Nothin' But Fine.---Check out the Nothin' But Fine blog and website.Follow us on social media: Instagram Facebook Twitter YouTube Want everything in your inbox? Subscribe to the Nothin' But Fine newsletter!

god jesus christ lord holy greek exodus old testament israelites ark destroying nothin in exodus holies so moses drapery

Lauren Liess: Part 2

home similar hgtv interiors drapery

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 11, 2024 42:04

Hello friend. Today you're in for a treat as I welcome my dear friend and design superstar, Lauren Liess. When I met Lauren 13 years ago while neighbors at the DC Design House, I loved her immediately. She radiates positivity, has endless energy (like, religiously writing her blog at 5am while her toddlers slept) and has that magical X factor you can't quite put your finger on. As her design stardom grew, through her books, product lines, HGTV show and real estate endeavors, her authenticity and clear point of view in design stayed strong. She's a beauty inside and out and a lovely friend and colleague that I feel lucky to have kept in touch with over the years as our careers evolved and sometimes overlapped in moments we could catch up and high-five each other.Her design philosophy is not only about embracing imperfection but celebrating it. It's raw, rediscovered, handmade, and homegrown—she believes home is a place where your story is woven into every worn edge. It embodies her belief that meaning and contentment aren't bought or achieved but cultivated.It's a celebration of living each day intentionally, savoring the little things in life: a homemade meal, a bouquet of foraged flowers, a freshly made bed, or dancing in the kitchen. Home is a place that reminds her to slow down, let go, and be. So dear listeners, if you don't already know and love Lauren Liess, get ready to be inspired. Similar to her 3, soon to be 4, beautifully written and insightful books we get into design, living, evolving in our careers and even seed oils. Yep. You are in for a treat. Without further ado- let's jump into our next episode of Behind the Drapery with my guest Lauren Liess. Down to Earth: Laid-back Interiors for Modern Living - By Lauren LiessLauren Liess | Interior Design

The One and Only Lauren Liess

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 2, 2024 39:33

Hello friend. Today you're in for a treat as I welcome my dear friend and design superstar, Lauren Liess. When I met Lauren 13 years ago while neighbors at the DC Design House, I loved her immediately. She radiates positivity, has endless energy (like, religiously writing her blog at 5am while her toddlers slept) and has that magical X factor you can't quite put your finger on. As her design stardom grew, through her books, product lines, HGTV show and real estate endeavors, her authenticity and clear point of view in design stayed strong. She's a beauty inside and out and a lovely friend and colleague that I feel lucky to have kept in touch with over the years as our careers evolved and sometimes overlapped in moments we could catch up and high-five each other.Her design philosophy is not only about embracing imperfection but celebrating it. It's raw, rediscovered, handmade, and homegrown—she believes home is a place where your story is woven into every worn edge. It embodies her belief that meaning and contentment aren't bought or achieved but cultivated.It's a celebration of living each day intentionally, savoring the little things in life: a homemade meal, a bouquet of foraged flowers, a freshly made bed, or dancing in the kitchen. Home is a place that reminds her to slow down, let go, and be. So dear listeners, if you don't already know and love Lauren Liess, get ready to be inspired. Similar to her 3, soon to be 4, beautifully written and insightful books we get into design, living, evolving in our careers and even seed oils. Yep. You are in for a treat. Without further ado- let's jump into our next episode of Behind the Drapery with my guest Lauren Liess. Down to Earth: Laid-back Interiors for Modern Living - By Lauren LiessThe Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ckLauren Liess | Interior Design

Best Shawnee, KS Drapery Pros Offer Classic Roller Solar Shades: 100s of Fabrics

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 15, 2024 2:40

Light-filtering roller blinds can transform the look of your home or office - call Inside Solutions at +1-913-890-3737 or click https://insidesolutionsllc.com/ in Shawnee for blinds or drapery that brings a sense of warmth and peace to your home. Inside Solutions, LLC. City: Overland Park Address: Overland Park Website: https://www.insidesolutionsllc.com Phone: +1-913-890-3737 Email: sales@insidesolutionsllc.com

llc offer pros solar shades fabric roller drapery

She Makes A Hard Hat Look Good: Meet DC Designer All-Star Erica Burns

Louisiana Anthology Podcast

Play Episode Listen Later Jan 29, 2024 57:06

This week we continue in our series that I affectionately call The DC Designers All-Star Tour. Where you get to meet the most in-demand talent and hear their untold stories from behind the scenes with some of the best designers I know in our nation's capital. Today we welcome interior designer, Erica Burns. Erica is uniquely positioned as a designer who rose from the ranks in commercial and residential construction. Originally from the Southeast, Erica graduated from the University of Florida's College of Design, Construction & Planning. She began her career in the construction industry, eventually finding her niche in residential design. Drawing on her strong understanding of the construction process, Erica is well-equipped to guide clients in selecting every detail, from plumbing fixtures and door hardware to furniture and window treatments. Her involvement throughout design and construction brings efficiency to the process and ensures that the interior elements are seamlessly integrated with the home's architecture.We chatted about her personal career path that led to the founding of her eponymous design firm, Erica Burns Interiors. With over a decade of experience turning visions into reality, Erica Burns Interiors has quickly become one of Washington, DC's leading residential design firms.Through attention to detail and thoughtful editing, Erica and her team create homes that are timeless and classic, with a touch of the unexpected.Today we dive into how her early experience in renovation and construction allowed for mutually beneficial partnerships and opportunities with DC's top architectural firms. A dynamic relationship that exponentially benefits both the design team and the homeowner. We dish on lingering client projects, the beauty of learning by doing and how she built her 7 person (and growing!) design team. I'm excited for you to meet Erica, and get inspired as we talk about launching and growing her firm and what she sees for business 5 years ahead.Mentioned in the episode:Couture Drapery | Hardware | Furniture - Gretchen EverettThomson & Cooke Architects – Custom Residential Architecture Firm in Washington DCErica Burns InteriorsWelcome to another episode of Behind the Drapery.

university washington college design planning dc drawing designers construction southeast look good hard hats drapery erica burns

558. Martha Boone

Play Episode Listen Later Jan 26, 2024

558. We talk to urologist Martha Boone about her work at the old Charity Hospital and the books she's written about it. "The Big Free is Charity Hospital and it's 1982 in New Orleans, and Charity is a big medical free-for-all. Elizabeth is one of the first women in the toughest surgery department in America. With her pearls and her pink plaid socks, she doesn't fit in …at first. Half the doctors who start the surgery program never finish. Nothing in her proper southern upbringing prepares Elizabeth for the violence, debauchery and intensity of inner city trauma surgery. The Big Free is filled with unforgettable characters living the best and the worst New Orleans has to offer" (Boone). "Dr. Martha Boone is one of the first one hundred women board certified in urology. After 23 years of education, she practiced academic urology for five years and private practice for twenty-four. She was named TOP DOC in urology in Atlanta for over a decade. Her first novel The Big Free fictionalizes her first six months at Charity Hospital in New Orleans. Her current book, The Unfettered Urologist, is nonfiction and explains the pearls of wisdom she never had time to include in a short office visit. It will be available August 15,2023. Her third book, Mother Charity, will be released in March of 2024 and is the sequel to The Big Free. Dr. Boone retired to write full-time and travel with her husband" (Boone). This week in Louisiana history. January 27, 1730. Jean Paul LeSueur leads 500 Choctaw Indians against the Natchez Indians. This week in New Orleans history. Lakeview Theater Opens January 28, 1942. With 700 seats and a parking lot able to accommodate 300 cars, the Lakeview Theater became the first movie house in Lakeview when it first opened its doors on January 28, 1942. Located at the corner of Harrison Avenue and Vicksburg Street (one block from Canal Boulevard), it was built by contractor Robert E. Smith who was the owner/partner of Guy P. Spicuzza who managed the theater. Draperies and rugs were furnished by D.H. Holmes. Adult tickets sold for 25 cents. Children were admitted for 11 cents. The management promised a policy of four program changes per week. This week in Louisiana. Postcards from Louisiana. Boardwalker & the 3 finger swingers sing at Bamboulas. Listen on Apple Podcasts. Listen on audible. Listen on Spotify. Listen on TuneIn. The Louisiana Anthology Home Page. Like us on Facebook.

america music spotify history children stories travel food new orleans louisiana poetry adult fiction literature architecture holmes lyrics novels tunein anthology postcards lakeview top doc drapery charity hospital choctaw indians louisiana literature harrison avenue robert e smith louisiana anthology home page

Hello aspiring designers! I'm Liz Levin

designers aspiring levin drapery

Play Episode Listen Later Dec 4, 2023 1:21

Welcome to "Behind the Drapery," the podcast where we pull back the curtain on the interior design industry and help YOU launch your own business. I'm Liz Levin, and I'm excited to have you join us on this behind-the-scenes journey.I've spent the last 20 years building my own 7 figure design business from scratch. I've been published nationally, and have worked on hundreds of client projects learning as I go. And I'm here to share those valuable lessons with you. In every episode, we'll dive deep into the complexities of running a design business. I'll share my personal turning points and bring you interviews with my design partners, experts, colleagues and the creatives who are shaping the world of design. We're here to empower you with knowledge, inspiration, and practical advice.So, whether you're passionate about design, eager to start your own business, or simply curious about what happens behind the scenes, "Behind the Drapery" is here to peek inside and open the doors for you.So I hope you'll join us make sure you subscribe below and visit our website at lizlevininteriors.com for more info. If you'd like to see what we're working on currently, visit our Instagram @lizlevininteriorsAnd if you're serious about starting your own design business, you're in the right place.

Growing Up in the Family Business | Josh Awend of American Drapery Systems, Inc.

Builder Stories

Play Episode Listen Later Sep 6, 2023 27:24

Josh Awend in a co-owner of American Drapery Systems, Inc., a third generation drapery business headquarter in Minnesota. Doing between $5-$10 million annually in both commercial and residential business, Josh discusses the ins and outs of working in the family business and why it's important to make sure your employees and vendors are aligned with your company's values. Here are a few key takeaways from the discussion with Josh: How to balance family and work Utilizing sub-contractors to maximize output Why it's important to set your company values Ensure your employees and subs share your values Optimizing all systems so everyone is on the same page Resources: Visit the American Drapery Systems, Inc. website here https://americandrapery.com/ Own a construction company and want to share your story? Apply to be on an upcoming episode of Builder Stories at https://www.builderstories.com Rate the Podcast: Help your fellow business owners find the podcast!

american minnesota growing up construction utilizing optimizing ensure family businesses construction management podcast help drapery josh how

How to Make Store Bought Drapery Panels Look Custom

The Design Doctor

Play Episode Listen Later Jul 18, 2023 15:24

Wondering how to achieve a more custom appearance for store-bought drapes?In this episode, you'll learn:The differences between custom drapery and store-bought panelsCorrect techniques for hanging drapery, including rod height and widthTips and secrets for customizing store-bought drapes to achieve a more personalized and polished lookIf you liked today's episode, please leave me a rating and review in Apple podcasts. Check out the House Calls for Physicians Website. Join the House Calls for Physicians Private Facebook Group Check us out on Instagram!

apple wondering bought panels house calls drapery

Extra: Daring drapery

Monocle 24: Monocle on Design

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 29, 2023 4:53

Nadia Al Zagir, co-founder and creative director of &Drape, tells us about the aesthetic potential of curtains.See omnystudio.com/listener for privacy information.

daring drape drapery

A Conversation with Mayor Dawn Iannantuono: The Road to Becoming a City's Top Leader

United SHE Stands

Play Episode Play 46 sec Highlight Listen Later May 16, 2023 50:20

In episode 29 of the United SHE Stands podcast, we sit down with the Mayor of Tiffin, Ohio - Dawn Iannantuono! She shares her journey that led her to this position and what her day-to-day life is like as Mayor, and most importantly, a female Mayor. Dawn is a Tiffin native, growing up in rural Tiffin. She and her husband Dan are the parents of two children and grandparents to five. She started and owned her business Draperies and Designs, Inc. for 35 years. During this time she served on the Tiffin City School board for 18 years plus an additional three years on the Vanguard Sentinel Career Center board. She thought her public service career was done but was asked to fill a ward council seat on Tiffin City Council a few months later. A position she held for six years until last July when she became the Mayor of Tiffin. She has always been very active in her community. She cantors mass every weekend for St. Mary Church for about 20 years. Dawn is also a member of Kiwanis having served as president, a Division Lt. Governor, and also forming another Kiwanis Club in Tiffin.Contact Mayor Dawn IannantuonoEmail: mayor@tiffinohio.gov (Include the podcast in the Subject line)Let's connect: United SHE Stands InstagramResources2022 GPI - Ohio.pdf | Powered by BoxOhio ranks below national average in percentage of women holding elected city, township offices - cleveland.com Women Mayors in U.S. Cities 2023 (rutgers.edu)If you purchase from any links to resources or products, the show may make a small commission.

conversations mayors governor cities powered subject designs top leaders kiwanis tiffin kiwanis club drapery mary church

361 - Frances Pusch on Retirement

The Business of Beautiful Spaces, Interior Design Podcast

Play Episode Listen Later May 14, 2023 67:08

Frances Pusch has worked with textiles in some form her entire professional career. Her training includes art school and a bachelor's degree in textile design from Boston University. She also studied tailoring and fashion design at the Fashion Institute of Technology (FIT). During twelve years in New York, Frances worked for two leading textile companies, had a custom tailor shop, was a pattern-maker for outerwear companies, including London Fog, and taught tailoring and pattern-making at FIT. As a business owner, she has made men's and women's custom suits, designed and produced a collection of women's clothing, and later a line of gift items for dog lovers. Her sole focus, starting in 2002, has been creating fine products for home interiors. Frances keeps her business up-to-date by actively participating in online discussion groups and webinars, as well as traveling to conferences and workshops around the country. She is always searching for better techniques, resources and technology—all the while keeping hand stitching alive and well! Her professional affiliations include the Window Coverings Association of America, the Drapery and Design Professional Network, and the Maine Women's Business Network. Frances lives in an 1848 cape-style house, next door to her studio, in a small village in coastal Maine. When not working, she is most often found playing with her rescue dog, Tilly, or on a tennis court, or enjoying the company of art, music, books and friends. Links and Resources; First Podcast with Frances Pusch - #53 - I Followed What Made Me Happy Profit First by Mike Michalowicz

america new york retirement maine boston university first podcast mike michalowicz fashion institute business networks london fog technology fit drapery maine women window coverings association

#D265 (dramatic monologue to drapery)

The Dictionary

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 22, 2023 25:11

I read from dramatic monologue to drapery. The word of the episode is "dramedy". Wikipedia says that "dramedy" was coined in the 80s with some TV shows which goes against what the book says. Not sure why 1978 was specifically called out. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Comedy_drama Here is a list (starting at 1910) of dramedy films. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Category:1910_comedy-drama_films Theme music from Jonah Kraut https://jonahkraut.bandcamp.com/ Merchandising! https://www.teepublic.com/user/spejampar "The Dictionary - Letter A" on YouTube "The Dictionary - Letter B" on YouTube "The Dictionary - Letter C" on YouTube "The Dictionary - Letter D" on YouTube Featured in a Top 10 Dictionary Podcasts list! https://blog.feedspot.com/dictionary_podcasts/ Backwards Talking on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLmIujMwEDbgZUexyR90jaTEEVmAYcCzuq dictionarypod@gmail.com https://www.facebook.com/thedictionarypod/ https://twitter.com/dictionarypod https://www.instagram.com/dictionarypod/ https://www.patreon.com/spejampar https://www.tiktok.com/@spejampar 917-727-5757

tv wikipedia drapery dramatic monologue

Ep.10 - Let's Talk Custom Drapery

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 17, 2023 38:13

Today's episode we discuss all things custom drapery, custom pillows and bedding with Ezekiel Mungal of Canadian Drapery Workroom.Ezekiel shares all the expertise on the important elements that to be asked and included while ordering custom drapery for your clients. A Designer Service can also be reached at ezekielmungal1@gmail.com or 416-518-9161 Canadian Drapery Workroom @ ezekielmungal1@gmail.comBe sure to follow along on Instagram @thebusinessofbeautifulspaces + @thorntondesign to stay up to date on what we're talking about next week. If you love our podcast, please, please, please leave us a review. If you have any questions or topic ideas OR you wish to be a guest email us thebusinessofbeautifulspaces@gmail.com or find us on instagram @thebusinessofbeautifulspacesLaura Thornton is the principle designer of Thornton Design Inc, located in Kleinburg, ON. Since founding the company in 1999, Laura has been committed to creating a new kind of interior design experience for her clients. Thornton Design is an experienced team of creative talents, focused on curating beautiful residential and commercial spaces in the Toronto, Ontario area and beyond. Now sharing all the years of experience with other interior designers to create a world of collaboration and less competition. The Business of Beautiful Spaces I @thebusinessofbeautifulspacesThornton Design I @thorntondesign

business toronto ontario combe drapery

Aftermath. (Unreleased) Sunnï Blū, -the kidd. {THE TIME CAPSULE}

The Infinite Skrillifiles: OWSLA Confidential

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 15, 2023 4:55

this is a cringeworthy read, i'm sure of it. {THE TIME CAPSULE] Here lies everything I won't delete, but wouldn't dare to publish (as of yet), and therefore banish to the land and/or realm of impossibility, where everything entirely consists of unimaginable, unfathomable, inconceivable, never-ever-happened ( or will) unexistence. Nothing Here Exists. Amen. (I didn't write this.) The Colenel's Jounal. “Would he be mad reading this shit? “ I mean. I have to step back at this point and admit to reading this shit to myself at this point, that... I stumbled upon an interview with none other than The Great Mike Tyson--who--if coincidences actually existed--coincidentally dated my mother oh-way-back-when. I remember the shenanigans she went through to get him to sign a pair of boxing gloves for an auction she hosted, once, when I was younger. For that, I've always gotten a little chuckle, whenever I've randomly ended up watching something. Dude is funny. As for other dude? I'm so lost. It's almost like Insomniac (or whoever) can read my thoughts--or at the very least, my text messages. It's been a year of strangeness, and I'm now more lost than found. Why is Pasqualle so strangely familiar? What is this connection, i'm missing? Who am I, if not S U P A C R E E? I'm aware of my cosmic insignificance, my societal displacement. I am nothing useful that I know of, but it seems so that I've been being followed. So maybe he's not a white supremacist, after all...he seems to love as much as I do--if not more. So, that one's my fault, as everything is. I wonder if the window of opportunity has truly closed. I wonder what to make of all this, at all. I'm so, so confused, and so lost, and so… ...confused... First, I levitated. Still can't get over that (literally) Then....everything else. Literally everything else. From playing drums at Ruskos set, to weirdly making my way to Excision, just “following a vibe”--my failed suicide attempt, and running away to Bass Canyon where, everything in my reality officially shattered. Now, here I am...about to be homeless, jobless, and lost in love. I can't shake it off anymore, I can't let it go. My brain's wrapped around all of it, all the time. Prayers, Mantras, Methods. I'm driving myself crazy trying to wish away the pain. I need to be...need to be… … Needed. Bearr needs me. Sometimes, in all the pain--I fail to see that. But he does--and if I can't make it in show business...how are we meant to survive? There's no room for depression and poverty in motherhood. After losing the twins...I just can't. I can't be sad and parent at the same time. And, maybe that makes me weak. Maybe it makes me stupid. Maybe I've just had enough. But there's nothing I wouldn't give just to know that there's love, somewhere out there for me. Is it selfish that that's all I want? I think i'm a good person, but maybe i'm wrong. I can account for hundreds of premonitions, predictions, visions--outstanding sensitivity to energy...but how could I misread, and misjudge, so easily? Something inside me never really made it out of that tent. Then, going back--maybe it was all of me, that never made it out of that ambulance. Am I just the special kid in class--and it's obvious I've been left behind? When I hear myself speak aloudt, I wonder if I am retarded. I feel other people also wonder. Either way, how would anyone have known about my musical history so broadly, as it's been displayed? There's no going back from it. I can't go back to being a regular “Skrillex” fan. It's almost like...almost like I can't go back at all. And I miss that, a lot--just being able to be honest about what my taste in music is, who my favorite musician is…. I tense up when I hear the word “Skrillex”. In good company, I can shrug it off, I guess…. But on any regular day, it still feels deep. It doesn't leave my mind, ever. I can pretend to move on, but I can't unlove. I can't unlove. So, i'm two-for-two...three-for-three, if you count Josh Pan's video, where his face swells up and he turns into a reptile… I remember waking up for work with swollen eyes, and bulging, puffy skin...the way the spiral to insanity began...not with suicide, at all--at least, in the traditional sense. I was working 80 hours a week. I needed it--I needed out of my marriage. Pasqualle's sweater Sonny's Sweater, now falling apart--because, yes--I've worn it every day for nearly a year. A red, white, and blue blanket, reminding me of my presidential ambitions--which have since, not faded...but become realistically reflected with this sense that, I have much to fulfill between now-and-never. I'll only run for President if I can afford it. I can only afford it if I am successful in music. I found it heartwarming that Mike Tyson is so enamoured by the culture. To see him swell with joy, such as I have, upon discovering the world of raves. Apparently, there will be some kind of permanent Oasis, someday...I hope I live to see it. Better yet, I hope I live to play there. I want my chance on all the stages, as selfish as it may seem. To earn a place behind the decks, an unrealized dream. But, can I find it to become all that it takes? To read and move a room, to create and connect with people, live onstage. To inspire a crowd--telling a story with music. To give love, the best way that I can. I miss myself...but no I don't. I do miss never having to worry about whether I was too fat to be found attractive by someone I vehemently admire--but never thought about sexually, in all of the years i've loved watching him live. But, its a vibe. Much ado about Elon Musk. I'm not smart enough to become a rocket scientist--and it's too late for me to become an astronaut, as I once dreamed...but there's something in the space above us all, that seems to connect the space between us all--and it's almost as is the walls are caving in. Time and space continues to collapse upon itself. I might be broken forever...but then, I always was. Who'd have thought the Grand Prize for your third suicide attempt is a Skrillex? I'm cursed, in the way that...it won't fall off. My brain won't un-Sonny itself. I'm on default to give a fuck now, and there's no turning back. I guess this is what I get for hating on *fangirls*...now i am one. Problem is, I'm a lot less cute. How often does shit like this happen? There's hypnosis through music--and then there's losing your entire soul to something outside of yourself. Why and how am I so out of place, in this world? ‘You're too good for this world.' Nothing's been forgotten, it's just getting more suppressed. I can pretend to move on, but I won't. I just found the Holy Mecca of research for my weird, invasive project. Apparently DeadMau5 had some kind of comedy show, or something--called “coffee run” It seems to be about...2014, but haven't bothered to check yet--I'm sure, though that this predates the infamous ‘fued'. Blah blah blah--i'm learning too much about these people. People. Real people. ...was interrupted to watch the new episode of Rick and Morty; Lucky me. One half-hour and several belly-rolling laughs later, I'm back...with slightly more self confidence that, if The Heavens grant me whatever kind of combination of confidence and focus that it will take to bring the Festival Saga If nobody's sampled this video, I've stumbled upon a literal goldmine. Life imitates art--and music imitates music. “I love it when it's super sweaty.” (How do I resonate with this so well?) “ A Los Angeles Real Estate Guy In Torono”, says Dillon. “Yeah, there's a few of those.”, Joel recants, stoically. Now i'm watching people who never mattered on YouTube, in a finally “Sonny says…” If i can ever make my brain learn the magic that makes something like Ableton somehow turn into a banger. “Does he drive?!” I've wondered this myself. “I don't think he does.” I knew it. Dillon Francis' awkwardness is reminiscent of mine...again, here I am wondering...who I might be if I were born a white male--if nothing was changed, but the body. CRUSTPUNKS. How did I get here? Oh, yeah. I specifically opened an incognito window to...fuck it. I know what I'm here for. The thing is, I don't know what i'm blessed with. I don't know that i'm talented… It could all just be a Grand Delusion… Do I hate myself enough to try this? A movie where the entirety of the fabric of [my] universe is music, and the musicians that make it. A universe that already existed in the Multiverse of Rick and Morty, since it's strange inception into my being. Wait, how the fuck did I get here? I was already on a writing tangent Probably--I hate enough to “ i get to go home--not tomorrow, but the next day” This experience is becoming so humanizing. It is a job, this music shit--Touring takes you everywhere but home. What the fuck is ‘home?' Perhaps I am meant for this shit, after all. I don't have a home, anyway. I also don't have any music under my belt, but--with any luck, I can pump out the LP I promised my twins. Today Marks 5 years since Skyy passed away. May 23rd will be 2 years, since Phoenixx left us. It's not a good time of year, for grief. With no friends I can trust (Annie's Toxicity is again rearing its head), no family that loves me the way a family should...I find myself completely isolating from what Love is, almost forgetting what it might have felt like. “How often are you home?” “KAAAAHHHHHHHHHN” If i'm ever lucky enough to learn how to make Dupstep--that deserves to go before a fucking deadly drop. I've officially seen Skrillex more times in person than ever on video--which disincluded, of course, the tent incident--something I'm realizing that if I'm unable to catch up with myself in time, I'll have to live with forever. Can I answer my own prayers? At this point, i've given up any expectation of what it might be like to achieved enough to earn any kind of place in that world *their* world... 5/6/2020 Life is unfair sometimes. Like--do I want tacos, or divine inspiration? Do I put off fasting for yet another day, just for the temporary comfort and satisfaction of eating? Does limiting my eating to once every 24-hour-or-less suffice as enough of a self-sacrifice, that my prayers might be answered? I highly doubt that it is, but still--I often ride the line between just allowing myself to feel good when I can (and food does, make me feel so....so good) and remaining steady in my fasting. Then, it has been over 6 months of almost constant fasting and praying, all over someone I haven't properly met--all over myself. Because, the longer I stay in this mindset--the clearer it becomes that it is all the same. At the core, there's only really one thing in existence. Skyy will have passed away 5 years ago tomorrow. To think, I should have had 5-year-old twins. They would have been so beautiful; I've never quite imagined them so, umti now. I miss my babies so much. Will I ever be okay again? I thought to record a song for Skyy, but it would never be ready by tomorrow, in the perfect way that I would want it to be. I don't want to put out anything less than the best. I'm being as patient as I possibly can with teaching myself--but grow frustrated in my limitations. The only thing standing between me, and the tools I need to make the music I have...is me. (Really, it's money.) Lack of money is keeping me from being unstoppable. With unlimited money, I'd have a home--I could fully pay all 4-years of my tuition at UCLA….ny dream school. I'd study music, anthropology, astrology….maybe even engineering. I can't make myself prettier--but I can make myself smarter. Google University just isn't cutting it. I want to make a difference in the world by any means, and i'm trapped behind the gate of poverty. I just want a closet full of harem pants, chuck taylors, and T-shirts with stuff I like on them. I just want to wear my kandi every day. I just want to be behind the decks atop the stages of my favorite places… I want to be someone's favorite DJ. I want to be one of my favorite DJ's favorite DJ I, I, I… How selfish. What does the world need? Less people. Well, i'm honestly one-less, I guess, if I can;t make it in music, in art. If I can't make a decent living just by being myself...i'm not meant to live at all. That much is true--no life worth living includes waking up every day to go to a job I hate, that barely pays my bills. No life is worth living that Something strange happens to me when my favorite people go ‘live' on instagram Social Media, a young demon with whom I constantly evade, when I am not forcibly fighting to fit the status quo (which, I cannot.) Watching my social media right now is like the digital equivalent of “You can't sit with us.” I've grown attached to OWSLA like some sort of distant, imaginary family--only, I know this is something I've just embedded into my mind--the ultimate wishful thinking. Everything I do seems fragile, as if the grid I had discovered not only exists in the outer world, but also my inner--that everything I do, think, say, sing, speak makes a difference in what will happen moving forward. Reawakening my center has been difficult, saying the very least--I am almost paralyzed by negativity--made catatonic through senses with which I cannot control; My ‘home' life has become a hell where i'll-spirits and pitiful thoughts are cast about me--in reality, I have no home. In truth, I'm unsure that I have any purpose, either. It's all been bothering me… Now it's something that just hurts, like everything else. Add to the pain, subtract from willingness to live. Add to the trauma, subtract from the motivation to succeed. How much of my fault is this? Who did it? What is it for? Amongst the most otherworldly of theories, the possibility that extraterrestrials had actual involvement in removing Sonny from wherever he was supposed to be (Burning Man, albeit) and placing him where I was. I've wondered how else the dancing shadows cast against the canvas of the tent were so perfectly made-- ancient egyptian prophecies foretold as a light show, in the moments leading up to the one where the entirety of my being was shifted, in an instant. I dreamed of a B2B with Skrillex, and instead got a face-to-face with Sonny Moore. One, apparently, does not quite equal the other. Eight (or so) months later, and I've filtered through all the stages of grief--for all of the ways I had to lose him--as much as one could be lost, without actually dying. But, perhaps I am dead. My soul and spirit at least, are trapped, and tainted torturously from all I've come to gather. Running into the night, like a bat fresh out of hell, away from the visions I was forced to have from our exchange-- I can only imagine, had I acted any differently and stayed, rather than fled what else I may have seen. In only the few short moments we shared together...I was able to see more of his life than for anyone I've ever ‘seen' for, besides myself. To have, after only a few moments--seen both backwards into his past--and forwards into a seemingly shared future of some sort. I don't know what else to call this creepy psychic shit, other than “seeing”. To even call myself a “seer” would be a heavy title, I'd be too uncomfortable to claim. Still, vivid memories of the dude's past--and chilling premonitions of the future, have left me disgustingly sick with a concern that wholly did not exist, beforehand. But, when faced with the question: “What would it be like to actually lose him?” I fucking lost it. I've never taken well to celebrity deaths--perhaps, overly sensitive in ways that suite absolutely nobody--I just so happen to have fallen apart numerous times, upon learning of the passing of those i've long cherished. I collapsed fully at Michael Jackson's passing, scrolling through the African TV channels in disbelief, as I desperately searched for a News Channel in English to confirm that it was indeed, true. This was, of course, a couple years after I cried for hours with Back to Black on repeat in the wake of Amy Winehouses' death--going even further back, I can recall arguing with a classmate that Steve Erwin, another hero, was brave--rather than ‘stupid', and undeserving of his untimeley demise. A special place lies in my heart for the day I remember losing Robin Williams-- a weird memory which collides in the now, with my affinity for Skrillex music and the strange outer connectivity my emotions seem to have in the passing of those I wholeheartedly admire; I've shed tears for Whitney Houston, Prince--I've shed tears for all of them. But none so much as for Skrillex, who is [surprisingly] still alive… And I'm mad about it. I'm mad about it, because I was [partially] happy in my place, as a fan. I wasn't even the best fan, or the biggest fan (metaphorically speaking--physically, though--I probably hold a record of some sort.) I wasn't following his social media--I wasn't following his anything, honestly. I was just crossing my fingers that with every lineup released, I might find the name “Skrillex” plastered to the top of it, or standing out broadly against the other ‘S' names, if alphabetically presented. I'm mad about it, because I hate myself. I've been hating myself my entire life. But i've never hated that I loved Skrillex--in fact, I've always been quite proud, having watched the project skyrocket, as EDM penetrated pop-culture in the years following my college endeavors. Never really thought to think that at any point, we might be equals. We're not--outwardly, anyway. Inwardly, though? Fuck me. It's like I'm bound to it by the roots of the Tree of Life. Like something in my DNA was activated by an overabundance of Skrillex. I've undoubtedly, and by far crossed the threshold of having listened to 10,000 Hours of Skrillex, guaranteed. No calculations needed. Still, there are perhaps millions of others who share the same affinity--and at least a few thousands who are more outwardly obsessive than in. It works, when I need to know something I'd rather just ask Sonny myself, but can't--there's always a kid in the fan pool who has been quick to find whatever information I'm looking for, long, long before I've come to look for it. Poor guy. For almost an entire year, that's all I've really been able to think. ‘Poor guy.' Because, if the roles were reversed--and for whatever reason I decided to make my way into someone's tent at a music festival (I wouldn't) and I scared them into a shock, resulting in them fleeing away from me--I'd feel like shit. And, if I had been touring my entire life and watched the culture grow and morph into the nearly unmanageable able monster it has become--i'd feel like shit. If I had to watch an ambulance cart away someone in the crowd during one of my sets, I'd feel like shit. If I had to do a live set while I felt like shit, I'd feel like shit. and ...if some random fan fell head over heels in love with me, simply because I crawled into her tent, or made really good music, or made her feel some kind of way… I'd feel like shit. And that shit probably happens all the time. It's been 10 long years for me, with Skrillex-- but I can't imagine how long the last 10 years have been, as Skrillex. Now I think about all the shit DJs go through, being DJs….what's more, I've had to give in-depth thought to what it means to be a celebrity at all--what it might be like to have someone grow an obsession over you--unprovokingly. Although my ‘obsession' for this particular person can't technically be considered ‘unprovoked' (I was minding my own business, after all--and Skrillex was not on the lineup.) I can't help but feel for those in the limelight whose charisma and talent combined attract every type of creeper imaginable. I'm just the kind of creeper that wants to make music; any previous searches as an attempt to ‘get to know' Skrillex, previous to last August, originated in attempting to comprehend how to create such organic sounds--exploring and studying how intricately layered and carefully arranged each of my favorite sounds and songs were made. Piecing together how exactly an artist like such, had become as such. Now, i'm just entangled in self-doubt, as it seems the entire next generation is equipped with whatever skillset it takes to become an electronic musician. Self-doubt, as I fear that my body weight intimidated him as much as his presence intimidated me. Again: All me. All bad. I've nowhere to turn to to unleash this shit--it has to be a secret-- and even letting it slip to Annie in the isolation of the aftermath has felt like a mistake, since I allowed it to happen. Can I keep a secret? Ha. There are things that only I know, certainly. The premonition I did subtly speak of, I refused to unearth in detail, even to Annie. The other visions I was made to have, still my own secret; I've begun to wonder if, upon meeting Sonny, I would keep it to myself; I suppose that would depend on nature and context. But, I think about it every day. It is my first thought upon waking up, my final thought before coming to rest--it has permeated into the only dreams I ever have anymore--crowds my semi-waking thoughts as I toss-and-turn throughout the night; the amount of energy exchanged, the amount of concern that consumes me....lets me know that it is all apart of something far beyond my comprehension, far beyond my senses...far beyond any understanding of the universe that I may have. And, it hurts. As bad as it is for me, it's probably worse for him--IF he remembers any of it. Then, probably a seasoned drinker (lol, “probably”) There's a good chance that, well-- he does remember. Oh God no. If I could motion to be erased, I would. I've been trying to erase myself for the better part of a year, including and certainly not limited to August 4th--an attempt I can stand to think I had not fully recovered from by the time it all happened. What the fuck did happen? Though it can't be denied that each of us possesses some kind of magic--the origins of mine can be traced back, at least on one side. Powers I was ‘born with', as told by my father--something I only believed until I was old enough that it didn't make sense--and something I was forced to recognize once I was old enough that it did. I want to know what exactly it is that ties us... Where this love--which is what it is, undeniably-- originates. I've spent the better part of the last year praying and meditating, and attempting to loosen the knots in my stomach enough to self-soothe enough to settle that, at worst-- Sonny was just being a pretty white boy, looking for a good time--and I just became a victim by knowing how to have one. Alternately--how fuck fuck would he even know I exist? As i've stated, I was the epitome of a silent Skrillex fan, prior to all these spectacular occurrences. I may have, at some point online--said something about Skrillex being my Spirit Animal… (still true) But can't imagine what else might have been garnered in my attainable, tangible history, which would alert him of my existence at all. Then, with all the money in the world, you truly can do anything… And that's what I hate in all this. Him--having all the money in the world, and me, having none… The very thing that separates us from settlement, myself from closure. Really, the only thing I want. Closure. ‘I got love, fuck your money.' Sonny can be anyone--he's earned that right. He can be with anyone--deservingly so. I want for him the very best--and, knowing that I am not (physically, anyway) am dismissive of any judgement cast. I wouldn't want me, either--looks matter, I know. I just want to know what he means to me--in this lifetime, in this realm, in this reality. I didn't have to be moved from where I was to be inspired by him--I just always was. I didn't have to think about being attracted to him--I just always was. I didn't have to think about being connected through the music--I just always was. And it all came crashing down in a tent, at the bottom of the rabbit hole--where I lost my mind--after having already lost my soul, to something beyond the senses, long ago. I committed wholly and permanently to making music when Phoneixx died, almost 2 years ago. The point was never to sound like Skrillex, but rather to be like Skrillex, as an artist--but, after much speculative examination--I guess, I always was. I lost myself in the early days of Myspace. From First To Last rang through the hallways of my middle school's corridors. Chiodos carried me through the days of wrist-cutting and air-dust huffing, through the days of binging-and-purging, wishing I was prettier--and in the height of all that is the drama of living in my very own Teenaged Wasteland… The Rocket Summer was handed to me by the hands of an angel, as I transitioned out of awkward adolescent depression and into an almost-well-adjusted life at a performing arts school, as an aspiring musician, singer, dancer and storyteller… The dream that carried me out of Utah, and into the Heart of Hollywood at the age of 16… The dream I thought died, long ago. When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go? Billie Ellish's spirit collided with mine, as the first time I heard her voice, I shattered inwardly, and shivered in the resonance that is the understanding of pain, born undoubtedly in love; I shuddered to think that someone so young could feel so devoid of the willingness to live, to move onward. My response upon first experiencing her music, of course, a genuine “...Is she ok?” Three little words. I tend to really mean them, any time I ask. “Are you OK?!” I blurted, as my entire self exploded into shock, as I immediately recognized the face I've known for years--and looked through the widened eyes of one so now devastatingly human--to something inside of myself. Something about my voice shifted him; He became a mirror for all my pain, all my doubt--all the shame I have, for all that I am-- my demons came straight to the surface. Voiceless, now, and shielded in the fetal position, we faced each other silently. 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm Sorry.', I thought loudly, as I lay panicking. I stared down into my chest, ashamed to be anything but invisible, thoughts racing. I dare not lift my head to look at him. My heart pounded, as I lay screaming silent apologies for my appearance--for my very presence, for my own existence. I couldn't process his presence in my reality. Choking back tears, I tried not even to so much as breathe, as I silently apologized for being born--and though I wanted nothing more than to reach out to hold him, I lay all-but-lifelessly--wondering what went so wrong that he would seek to find me. The familiar smell of liquor permeated the air, as my heart sank, throbbing as it pounded...I know an alcoholic, when I smell one. I did actually wonder if he was okay....(and I've been wondering daily, ever since.) But clearly, he wasn't okay. Clearly, I wasn't. Clearly, nobody's ok. He slipped his praying hands between my thighs, as I died inside--and all my outer senses blended to become all, and nothing at once, again. Exit Skrillex, Enter Sonny. How does a mere peasant earn a spot in the company of the Highest Priest? I've not bargained with the Devil, but begged the Heavens that my life would end before his...the First Fast emerged as a direct result of self-sacrifice; To serve as a protection against misjudgement--to realign my soul with it's true intensive purpose--in hopes that my body would shrink to form something suitable. The memory of his hands between my thighs, a haunting reminder that--I just may be too big for him… The reality is...of all that I am, and all that I have, and all that I wish to be...it just may be that--he's too big for me… metaphorically speaking. I'll have to become a damn-near Superstar, just to get to know the people--that know the people--that know the people, that know people who can connect me to Sonny, on any level. I'll have to get in line behind millions of other hopeful DJ's, producers, singers, dancers, songwriters--hundreds of thousands of entertainers who might kill-or-die to get to know Skrillex in any way-shape-or form. Romantically, I'd be competing against at least a million perfect-bodied beauty-queen fangirls who would do anything--and I mean anything--for their shot at Skrillex. The truth is, I'm not trying to get to know Skrillex; The truth is, i'd rather know Sonny. (Whatever that's supposed to mean, right?) I don't question at all our potential compatibility; there's no doubt in my mind that there's some chemistry between us--be it of ancient origin, an extra terrestrial genetic code, or otherwise...but I'd bet any money I actually had, that someone as highly regarded as Skrillex would be ridiculed, trolled, and tremendously hated by many, many fans--for associating with someone like me. I don't even know if it's like that--but, again--crawling into someone's tent is...kind of intimate. What in Heavens would one want with me, when he could have perfection-- Absolute perfection? I kind of get it. I'm used to being fetishised. I've always been the black girl who liked white guys--I've lead a life that's made it easy to learn that Jungle Fever is often taboo among the White Caucasion men who find black women attractive enough to fuck--but would never want to “date” us, or bring us home. I've learned that--at the end of the day-- most white guys, want white kids--even if they like to fuck black girls. Then, there's the added bonus of some genetic flaw which has allowed my body to at one point, have ballooned up to 380 pounds-- a body which, even after a 200+ pound weight loss, would disgust anyone with eyes, in what most would consider “cute rave attire”. And, although shrinking from a size 28 to a size 10 is somewhat of a ‘grand' achievement, I look like an asymmetrical potato sack with my clothes off. If there's anything I know about men--and especially the affluent ones--they love to have trophies to showcase. I've yet to see a body like mine on the red carpet, or as arm candy--or as the leading lady, anywhere. No, there's no such thing as a fat Cinderella. Still, he's one of the most handsome creatures i've ever seen-- undoubtedly one of the most beautiful creatures on this planet. I will continue to love what I know of him wholly and unconditionally. On my best days, I even hope to live long enough, and well enough to have the honor of properly meeting him. Never could I have the courage to ask him on a date--nor would I subject him to the cruelty of the outer world by alluding to the fact that he may, in fact be someone more important to me, than as just a musician--as with anyone i've ever loved, I only want for him the best. On my worst days, The Devil assures me that it was Annie he was really looking for, who he may have seen me with at the plethora of festivals we attended together last year--or perhaps, even Idania, who was supposed to have been there with me…and it would make sense. The Devil also constantly reminds me of how much prettier they both are than me--and better in every way. But, it was long ago that I came to terms with the fact that anyone who might come to love me--would also love Annie and would love her more thoroughly--her, having the more attractive body and face, being more ideally pretty. Standing next to Annie, I always lose. Even on a good day. All this, I can be sure to cast aside, however--because at the very best--he was looking for me, and everything between then-and-now builds into something of substance or significance… and at worse, my favorite figure in music absolutely hates me, and regrets my existence as much as I do. Either way, Skrillex hits hard any time of the day, any day of the week. And… Either way, Sonny hits home, all day, every day--until I can manage to learn to speak. Eight pages later, and it still hurts. Eight pages, and i'm still mad. I'm still crying. I'm still useless. I'm still stuck. Stuck on stupid. Stuck on Sonny. Stuck on Skrillex. Just… Stuck. And it hurts. 5/5 Another day. Nothing makes me hate myself more than waking up. ‘Don't look at the phone.' instructions, handed to me some time ago by the Divine--since then, I make it a point not to look at my phone, if I can help it, before I've sat up to pray, and meditate. Lately, I've been unable to relax at all enough to focus on a proper meditation, before realizing my actual self-worth (nothing), and falling into the depressive non-motion that has been me. How many evil men will it take being caught in the midst of, will it take for me to realize that I've been allowing myself to painfully absorb their essences, even without a single touch? Just living here alone has set me further back from my goals than I was--then--I'm beginning to feel that my ‘roomate' may have ties to White Supremacy; the evidence does just keep on building. It has occured to me that Jason's warning that Nick may be deep undercover for some Government agency is most likely true. Though I err on the side of not snooping through other peoples' things--I've happened to stumble across indicators which point to the likely case that he is, in fact, hired by the government or some other private entity--probably as part of some secret experiment, assigned to psycologically torture and disable mentally fragile individuals; It seems as though the experiement was designed in order to test morale, will power, self-control, and proper judgement-- tests which I've been concious of, but in the moment have not always cared about passing-or-failing. From the painful assortment of disgusting and obnoxious sounds make throughout the day, torturing me through unpleasant and peace-shattering sounds, left victimized by my synesthesia and recently pinpointed misophonia--or something similar...whatever it is that makes slamming doors, cabinets, and the items crashing to the floor after lazily being thrown across the room methods of torture. To the cavalcade of poisonous, sugary and addicted substances, which only seem to appear or are offered during crucial fasts--or, pushily and passive-aggressively left in my living space without asking whether or not i'd like any. Just left there, to be discovered upon finishing a shower, or returning from a nightly walk. And on days when I am actually hungry, or needing to eat? I am offered nothing. Only when I fast am I ever offered any sustenance. It says almost too much about my roomate as a person--to offer every time, or never at all would be acceptable, and understandable--but to only invite one to eat when one feels so ‘inclined' is beyond cruelty. It's privilege showing itself to be one of the only faces uglier than mine, that i'm aware of. While i've elected to use my headphones as a shield, life's not always easy immersed in a sound bath of isochronic tones and Theta Waves--and though it does excite me to have expanded my music library, with additions and updates I've been longing for ages-- it's almost more stressful to think about the amount of music that I don't have. Songs I would add to my “sets”, if you can call them that. If I can call myself a DJ--if I can call myself a person, anymore. Really, all I am is hurt feelings and trauma wrapped in flesh; I might be less of a person than I ever was, once. Everything costs--whether it be money, the world's currency--or time, the currency of the soul. Torturous is the life of an artist, who cannot herself make ‘art', as she sees fit. Everyone in Hollywood has a screenplay in their back pocket; Everyone in LA has a dream, two-to-three-jobs, and a side hustle--and me? I'm just learning to DJ to self-soothe, having given up hope of ever becoming anything greater than the happiest guest at the rave nearest you. It's harder than it looks….(or, maybe it isn't, and i'm just retarded.) Building a music collection worthy enough to grace the decks in any of my favorite venues, is an arduous task--maybe this is why all the popular DJs are pretty white boys--the proof is in the privilege. Money, money, money...I used to make plenty of it, and was always exhausted--now I make none, and am always exhausted. What's worth what cost? Time = Money. In LA, and in the world. But by anyone's definition--and especially mine--LA is the world. Or, at the very least, sets the tone for the world. Truly, nothing is free. DJing is more expensive than I could have ever imagined--once again, in any direction I turn, there's a ladder to climb. I've not got the time or energy left in my sadly depleting lifesource left to storm gates, crawling over heads and cutting down those in my way. While it's certain that ‘Competitive Greatness' is the key atop the Pyramid of Success, there are 14 other bricks below to lay the foundation of that which one might call success, to be garnered as imagined through the eyes of a man, anyway, who lived in the 1930's. John L. Wooden may have been right--and may still be right--if I were a standard male (we'll leave race out of it, for now…..for now.) Still, i've been using the Pyrimid of Success as a guidepost, in what it is exactly I may have to do, or be, in order to become something. Not even something great, just something. Perhaps, if I can make it to being something, eventually I might become someone. Oh, to be a person would be nice. For now, I'll just have to settle on tricking my useless sack of anatomy into being a DJ. There's nothing outside of it, anymore. Bass Canyon truly was my last rave--not that I enjoyed it, honestly. Though I've attempted to retrain my brain around the trauma which resulted from that weekend, it did serve as a turning point--a sort of going-away party, as I departed from my home as a no-holds-bar Kandi Kid. Happy Graduation, OG Raver! Little did I know that, with the multidimentionality of our universe, I would be presented, through the world of possibility--the ability to at least observe with the naked eye that there lie more beyond the decks-- a space that may have been made for me. I'll never forget the moment I knew I would be a DJ--or at least try, for the life (or the death) of me. Electric Daisy Carnival changed my life--an experience ten years in the making that catapulted me into the depths of my wildest dreams--unbeknownst to me that I hadn't yet the ability to swim, in such that is the tempest of my own subconscious mind. But--that part of this story deserves its own dedicated elaboration; For now, i'll only look back--and realize that it was there that I aligned with my highest self in the truest sense, that, at least then, I actually believed that I could become a top DJ. I've lost the flight to stay afloat in the salty sea that is the millions of other people trying to make it to the mainstages of our favorite places, and begun to sink into the reality of the entertainment industry as a whole...the reality of the world, as a whole anymore. Looking around at the world's top DJs is less encouraging and inspirational than it should be. Nearly every headliner looks like every kid who ever bullied me, every guy who ever turned me down--every kid hosting the party I wasn't invited to. As for the females of the bunch--I find it frustrating that not one yet has been of any color other than yellow--and even then--we all know the world's men love Asian women. While I can admire girls like Rezz and Allison Wonderland--I wonder what kind of career, if any, if either of them were black, or heavyset--or, my losing genetic combination: Both. Would a fat Allison Wonderland have ever made it into the industry? Would a black Rezz ever become a staple in bass music, and rave culture? If Softest. Hard had a pot belly, would she have been discovered? Then, there are up-and-comings beyond my complete comprehension--those who are visually appealing, but musically inept; I'll leave out any names, and still salute them--anyone who can wrap their brain around any standard DAW enough to make an entire song, is absolutely more talented, definitely more intelligent than I am. [I'm not.] But, I can't help but wonder: How easy was it for any of them, being so pretty, to learn to do what they do--just by being kind and asking a friend for help to learn production? In so many years of raving, I've watched beautiful girls get pulled backstage--and even pulled on stage, to connect with the artists and VIPs. I've been brought to tears as I've watched rude girls with porcelain faces caked in makeup be lifted over rails into the promised land, picked to be plucked by just her eyes and smile combined with the perfection of a flat and flawless stomach. Pretty girls always get priority. Me? Well, I get the dead eyes of the drunken DJ, staring down at me through his whiskey glass, as he beckons the stagehands to assist the perfect-bodied princess backstage...but i'm only front-and-center so I can feel the music move, and watch all the energy bounce around, matching the movement of the expert's hands on deck, to the waves of sound colliding with the rest of the world. True, my mind might wander to what wonderful experiences await the perfect princess, as she disappears behind the decks, into a world i've yet to know, but only seen: The life I know exists beyond the rails, beyond the decks...the world I can only wish to build, for myself. Big ugly black girls don't get pulled backstage. Big ugly black girls are token ancillary characters, it seems, in the plot which writes the story of the modern rave. In a sea of new-generation ravers raised by Kim Kardashian and YouTube makeup tutorials--left lost in a torturous chamber of perfection--women who can wear anything, beautifully. Women who get whatever they want, whenever they want--because they know they can; 10's, to my -3. Bottom Line: Looks matter, until all the men in the world go blind. Sad-but-true. I move not to objectify the women whose music and movement through the clearly sexist music entertainment industry. God only knows how hard each of them has worked to earn a spot so highly ranked amongst those to whom we all admire--the legends, the greats. Each woman behind the decks has become a reflection of everything I wish I ever was--but also a painful reminder of everything that I am not. Of every girl i've ever come behind. Perhaps, this is the result of growing up the as the only ‘black girl', in the backwards, racist po-dunk town I was transplanted into: A place where I spent years constantly being told, taught, and trained that it was more admirable to have light skin, blonde hair, blue eyes...then again, The Media has always done a particularly good job at creating and maintaining what the ideal beauty standard should be, or is--and an excellent job of perpetuating stereotypes. People never expect me to sound how I do, or to like what I like--because it's “white people stuff”; and ten years ago when I discovered raving, there wasn't another black girl (or boy!) in sight for miles, at any rave I went to. I was the oddity, the token--the “what the fuck” person, in an already entirely what-the-fuck place. Fast Forward to 2020: My Freshman Year as a DJ. And...as it appears, the world behind the decks is just as non-diverse as the dancefloor was when I first began this escapade through the world of immersive music. Do I want to be the first ethnically-bred Female DJ to reach the top? OF COURSE. Can I? It's not up to me. Now I'm confusededly caught in the web that is rumours circulating of an ongoing race-war, and wondering if I've been left to die smack-dab in the middle of it. Amongst currently living with a white supremacist (or, extremely ignorant and culturally intolerant biggoted racist at the very, very least.), it seems that White Superiority may be a driving theme amongst the Electronic Music Industry--that maybe the world I've rather grown up in, and come to love has more twists, turns, and dark alleys to look through than the obvious ‘secrets' that loom in the world of rave. All seeing is the eye that watches over all. Insomniac's crew is among one of the least racially diverse I've ever seen--if I were Pasqualle, I might think to at least try to make it look as though there were a plethora of ethnic backgrounds who work together to tie the knot holding together the world's biggest metaphorical kandi: Insomniac, the Kingdom of Mainstream rave culture. A global endeavor. I wonder how many i've come to admire--Pasqualle included-- are actually White Supremacists, masquerading in the power of positivity and their corporate capitalism, true beliefs and intentions. My curiosity about the man himself peaked during EDC weekend, after stumbling into sign after sign, symbol after symbol--of something I've aspired [in the past] to commit to, but also am wearlily aware of its adversity towards that of my kind; being firstly female, and secondly partially black. Now, I wonder--am I even allowed to enter into the world beyond the decks--or is that preserved for only women with perfect bodies, fair skin--attractive individuals? Does it belong only to those with money? Is there any possibility that there may be room for someone like me to enter the scene--or may only pretty girls with pretty bodies and pretty hair be allowed in the backstage world? Really, I just want to perform. I miss myself as a dancer, as a musician--as an actor, all together. I still wish I had continued on this path a decade ago, when--though weighing over 300 pounds--my confidence at least existed. Teaching myself to DJ has been one of the hardest things i've ever done; I don't know if I'm retarded, but I'm beginning to consider attempting to see someone for some kind of screening. If Paris Hilton can DJ, why is it so hard for me? If Sonny can dink around on a computer with a blown speaker, call himself ‘Skrillex' and make some of the world's most intricate music since that of Beethoven-- why can't I do the same? What makes the difference in all these YouTube tutorials telling me how to do it--and me actually being able to do it? What is it, that's wrong with my brain? But, it's all i've wanted for over a year--to be a DJ, at least. I've always been a musician; It's just been a stop-and-go, allowing for the rest of what has been my life to pass through between the times I could make music, and couldn't. I wish I had the positive support it takes to have encouraged me forward on the path I was already on, since I was 13--instead, I was told I was too fat (and too black) to succeed in the way I wanted to. 10 Years later and Lizzo is at the top of her game, while I beat myself up for losing at mine. Never could I have imagined a world where i'd see an album cover like hers; upon seeing it, I was not only shocked, but enraged: She was everything I was told I could not be. And the Truth Is: more than likely, someone told Lizzo the same thing I was told, and the difference is-- she didn't believe them, and kept moving forward. The difference is: She believed in herself, and loved herself enough to keep trying. The difference is, that everything I needed, I already had--I just never believed it to be so. I'm proud of her...but insanely jealous. My inner child cries “That should have been me.” Truth Hurts. There's more to it, than that; Envy lives in the cavernous pits deep within the confined Hell that is my subconscious mind--and--as the world begins to close in on itself, as consciousness continues expanding, I find myself fighting against the worst of my woes daily. Nowhere can I go without meeting a flawless, forward-figured, and facially exquisite female--rather than submit to catty jealousness, I have learned to admire and nod or bow as a gesture that I am a lesser creature. So now i'm left to wonder as I self-teach myself a trade, if my aspirations may ever be achieved, without possessing any outer beauty. All that's left in the world for me, now, is to become my own favorite DJ. (A title, of course, formerly belonging to Skrillex... ruined, by his untimely arrival as a physical person, into my actual life. More on that later...and infinitely.) I've lately begun asking myself “Is it really worth it?”...but, at the same time, I've never loved anything so much, as to fly on the wings of music--and so i've also wondered “What else will really make me happy?” Tough question. Ideally, I'm the entertainment Guru I always wished to be--not tied down to any one artform, but able to move about freely in all of them. There's no life without theatre--there's no light without entertainment. If living ideally, I could never be any-one-thing-- if living ideally, I am the embodiment of everything I love. But in a world where a snatched waist and a pretty face are a winning (and deadly) combination, I'm 0-0. Life of am ugly kid. Worse off yet, since even Hobo Johnson seems to have more confidence in his awkward and broken rhythms enough to speak his mind clearly enough for the rest of the world to resonate. Might be a good time to revisit, what it is exactly I came for. Perhaps, the answer is nothing: So far, I have nothing, make nothing, am nothing--if there is anything that I am, it's words on a piece of paper--just another ‘thing', another dreaming, wishful hopeful that I can rise above all that has been, and all that I am now...to become something more When training to match with the likes of the devil in preparation for battle against he, you must intend to figure, what the vehicle he has chosen has maintained to use as atool to help build you, as a Saint or an Angel--or one to break you, as Satan he. It has been a fruitful fas, but still i persist, though with a weary eye and curious mind, to the riddle i have yet been presente; ; Much ado about Chicken Soup. “Practice androgyny!” the two meet, immidiately fritening eachother; they transform-- One becomes dog, the other a cat--the cat begins to run. the dog pursues her. they run into a sunny meadow where a river feeds the wildlife and it is vibrant amongst the creatures; the cat climbs up a tree, and the [very friendly] dog stops at the base, looking up at her playfully, with an ask that she come down. She looks down from the tree at him, at a safe distance, and begins to relax on the I've fallen in love with a celebrity. What medicine cures that? Dearest Sonny, I'm unsure quite how to explain myself to you--or if I can, or should explain myself at all.I guess I could start with “I'm sorry.”, but it's almost as if that doesn't quite cover it, and nothing does. Perhaps, i'll start with just “thank you”--thank you for being you--which is something that makes me more ‘myself' than anything, at best. Really though, that's probably a good place to start with the wholehearted apology I owe you; It cannot be easy being yourself, or navigating life with such prominence, importance--as I'm sure you never intended all that you are, as any gift-given may have come as a God-honest, and God-given surprise. That being said; God is only anything that I am --as is, anything that you are. The talent that you possess is insurmountably powerful...and has touched, changed, inspired millions--changing the world and the very fabric of time itself--no matter how unintentionally, in all your humility. Somewhere hidden, I too have talent. I only wish that in this lifetime, I were granted the confidence and charisma to be able to somehow express it. Music is the matter I find I am made of--without being able to express it, I only feel burdened, trapped. It is a beautiful language you speak--you, and the rest of the artists I've grown to admire. It is a language so soothing, I can only long to learn it; I'm afraid though that in this lifetime, too much time and opportunity has passed...in this modern, technologically fast-paced new world...i've been left behind. You are truly a good friend, indeed. In all the sense that it doesn't make, I honor you as someone who has inspired, motivated, comforted, and captivated consistently throughout my existence in this time, in this life; Though i've been in recent times, able to remember your essence in lifetimes past, it is in this lifetime that I find the most befuddling, how your music itself has seemed to find and follow me.Unexplainable, would be the word that I can most easily use to describe anything having to do with it--love, would be the other word. “I love you”, is, I guess, what I was trying to say by tapping you gently three times, before running away. Really though, there aren't many things I could have said, or done--i'd never really been “starstruck” before; but it would be quite a stretch to say that it was the first time I'd been left awestruck in your presence. Countless performances, club shows; Raves are my favorite, favorite thing--second to the feel, and sound of bass. “Synesthesia”, would be the vocabulary word that explained a lifelong fascination with laser lights and deep bass; in ten years of hugging subwoofers and losing myself in the drop wondering my early adulthood mantra “Why am I like this?” almost constantly, it never mattered more to me than it has now. I recall a time where I referred to Skrillex as my spirit animal--still true, I suppose, although considering the fact I've consciously separated the Skrillex of things from the Sonny Moore of it all. One in the same, or, two separate parts of a whole--I can undeniably say all my unconventional, unconditional “I love you, I love you, I love you's”, in the everything that you are. ‘In love', would be an understatement--though which statement to actually make, i'm unsure of. I'm unsure of a lot of things, really; I've made many honest (and dishonest mistakes) in this lifetime--walking away from you, one of them. But, I can't change that, anything about who I am--or anything about the world the way it is, for I am only one--and too small, too weak, and too tired. My soul wishes for the freedom that death will bring--and so, I must let it...as its simply much too hard to live moving forward with such a badly broken spirit. I want you to understand that it is not your fault; It's nothing to do with you, or anything that you've done--the way that I love is uncontainable, once the match has been lit. I apologize again that you've become a victim in the energy field that becomes somewhat of a vortex, once activated. I didn't mean to fall in love with you--I don't know really how it happened, it just did. Maybe you don't remember me. Maybe you do. It doesn't really matter now, I just want you to know that me leaving this life is no fault of yours. I love you wholeheartedly--wholeheartedly, too, I love myself--though, seemingly only from the inside-out; there's nothing I can do about the outer shell I've been trapped in all these years. This is my body; something I would neither burden nor embarrass you with. Apologies, and all my love to you. There's nothing I want for you more than to live a happy, healthy, fulfilling life--I hope that you and those surrounding you are always, always living in peace, with joy and love--without worry, or burden, or stress; in honesty, these arre my wishes for anyone on this planet..as my love for humanity itself has only seemed to quantify, as I near the end of my life. I love, love; sometimes, I believe that I *am* love, as are any of us--but as I draw nearer to the light, it becomes harder and harder for me to believe that anything else matters, or has ever mattered, more than love. I love you. It just may be that i'm the world's biggest Skrillex fan--but to look beyond the cloak of stardom has left me longing for the embodiment of a memorable, familiar soul: The you. The person, and being that actually is; which is to say--as I would for any of my closest friends--I'd go to hell-and-back for you, give my last for you, do anything to protect you--*you*, the person; wanting and needing, expecting nothing in the world--because I cannot see a world without you in it. I'm sorry again, for any negativity. I meant to leave you behind at least, something beautiful, in exchange for all the years and moment's i've experienced through your art--but as I've mentioned before, I am trapped within myself. Symphonies unsung, melodies unwritten--because I've not what it takes to make it. I won't depart without admitting I tried, Music is my all, my everything, my guiding light--so at least in going home, I know there will always, always be the World of Sound--perhaps Heaven in the place where I can live there. I don't know what else to say. You're one of the most beautiful people i've ever seen, from the inside out--before I saw you, I heard you; before I could hear you, you were felt. I will always love you...nothing much else can matter, except that you know that. I'll never be able to erase it from my mind, never be able to forget, or look past it. I may even never understand why. Ancient Egyptian knowledge, or whatever—is the thing it seems they were trying to convey. By they, I only mean—whoever it is that wanted to hurt me. From the men shouting “kill yourself” outside my window— To the flocks of gorgeous, perfect women with perfect waists, perfect fashion, perfect faces—flaunting and floating before me, taunting me, pointing and laughing—rolling eyes, and flipping hair— and giving looks that say “I know you wish you looked as good as me.” I do. I do wish that. I wish more than anything to be beautiful. But...I keep eating. My body is hideous. I hate everything about it. I could try harder, but even that hurts. Everything hurts. Especially my heart. Why was I not more panicked, that after such a phenomenon such as that, cast by shadows against my tent—that the zipper of the door began to move slowly, from one side to another. Perhaps, I wanted the company. Maybe I needed it. What I didn't need, was more excruciating pain. No one's fault, I guess—someone wants me dead. At this point, I think me, the most. I'll never forget that face. The shocker. “Why is Skrillex in my tent?” The looming question. A question I hadn't even the time to ask, before blurting out “Are you okay?!” He froze, I froze. I guess that's where my Skrillex and my Sonny collided, as my soul began the process of separating the music I adored, and the person who made it. I will never forget his eyes. Fear. I scared him. He scared me. He scarred me. Maybe it wasn't him. I know that it *was* in fact Sonny himself (the face is unmistakable, those eyes)—but perhaps he was put up to it. Paid, for the task. Maybe my deer-in-the-headlights makes it so that he is the hunter—? How could he have missed his shot? How could I have missed mine. I've fallen in love with a celebrity. What medicine cures that? What medicine cures suicide? None I've taken, really—maybe Acid. Now, I can't seem to separate myself from Skrillex—or from Sonny—or from figuring out the two, or one in the same— or from figuring out myself, in that we are one in the same. I love him. Like a stupid teenager loves her favorite idol. Yeah, it's exactly like that, except worse—I'm a grown woman, a failure—whose aspirations and admirations are grandiose, and dillusional. Now I'm even more delusional. I thought, for a moment that Sonny might be in love with me. In honesty? Sometimes I still think that. I actually still believe that. So why this approach? I'm partially convinced he was paid to ‘finish the job', so to speak. I was already suicidal, and, fresh out of the hospital on the attempt to end my life that failed, again. So this would do it—make me hope and believe I could be something, someone, anyone—that I could be anything—even a superstar DJ-turned-future President. I'm a fucking joke. Someone, who could have anyone—in love with me? Maybe this is why people sneak into tents at music festivals: They don't love you— They just want to fuck. DAY 1: MAY 1ST, 2020; If I am offered dinner, will eat--but if not, will continue forward. Will set an alarm for 3:30 AM once roommate has gone to bed to check for his keys. Everyone gets their own suicide letter. Mom Dad Bearr Annie Yesenia Sonny (just leave it to Annie w/ his rock && burn book) Let everybody know it's not their fault. Reasons: 1. Fat 2. Ugly 3. Black 4. Poor 5. Unsuccessful 6. Friendless 7. No Charisma 8. Single I don't know why I numbered them. Do you really need more than one reason to kill yourself? (no.) I believe i”ve started the fast that I was asked. Be it that I have, the date is May 1st, 2020--however, I've been wondering if my roommate leaves the keys to his car in an accessible place; I'm kind of hoping so. I'm already craving to eat, and the first 24 hours have yet to pass. Again, i'm always given the open to keep this date and continue forward, so long that I eat before midnight--however, nothing seems like the right answer; The matter of fasting has become a damned-if-I-do, damned-if-I-don't matter...it seems that everything I do is ‘wrong', though right-and-wrong are subjective, and multidimensionally, objective, even. I probably might have been dead by now, if my car battery hadn't died...it seems like the easiest and least painful way; something easy and quiet. I've thought about sharpening a knife, just to cut and let [myself] bleed out at the wrist--but then, I fear that I may panic and that my mind would fight to survive. I've thought about hanging from one of my favorite trees-- but haven't the money left to buy any rope--which, perhaps, I could steal--but to steal enough rope to hang myself with on foot? A tricky task, to say the least. So, really, some of me is hoping my roommate leaves his keys out. At first, the thought of committing my suicide here was unsettling. My roommate, Satan's personal favorite vehicle and overall negative void of a ‘person' (or vampire, honestly), is a drama Queen--he needs not only conflict and drama to survive, but fiends for it; something in me had somehow become too proud to give him something to girlishly blabber about with his narcissistic, simple friends--I can already hear the repetitive exclamations of “horror” that would more-than-likely delight him as he recounts the story of finding my body, over-and-over...at first it rather haunted me, and now i've come to peace with--bargaining that having him find my body would be something of a statement, which wordlessly reads “sticks and stones may break my bones but words got up and killed me.” Words. Little words. Big Words. Actions. Gestures. If it's negative, I can feel it in my body, before it even happens; If it's positive, it can leave me radiating for days on end, and without a care. My “living situation” has been nothing more than a prolonging of my already disastrously failed and predominately miserable life. A mentally-ill and often psychotic mother, followed by a too- young marriage to a dynamically similar person, has left me up Shit's creek with no boat; I'm pushing 30 with no significant other, and no significance at all. There are generations of perfect people, fresh out of high school--who can and will do everything I ever thought possible or imaginable, better than me. And it's my fault. NO ENTRY ON DAY 2. Gave Myself A “Skrillex” haircut. Wow. Fuck my life. DAY 3: The fast will end today, more than likely. I am overwhelmed with grief, at loss for motivation, and struggling to believe there is any positive outcome to anything I do. I'm already getting headaches, and acute hunger pains--usually these things don't happen until well after the third day. I suppose my body is telli

united states god love jesus christ music women american fear time california live money black world president success social media trust english google babies hollywood starting apple spirit man los angeles technology lost body prayer las vegas media voice future space hell running energy real land living speaking sound west kingdom truth building practice walk thinking miami happiness dj chinese gold masters christianity depression government reading teaching heart fighting japanese turning elon musk devil spanish moon dance dc left dna holy drive leaving therapy satan write losing darkness mom open drop night fake twitch dive utah shame dead strange gods alive 3d ring aliens started poor toxic asian watching memories testing code protect dragon divine mexican monster sun nazis fall in love disasters run drugs attention reflecting balancing tree lack created witness beyonce planet stuck rain alaska standing oprah winfrey captain ocean curse mama hurt enemy sick childhood empathy danger birds praying heard apologies tough kiss boom beatles forgive shoes ugly eagles cops act protecting dancing debt origins cloud promises paradise flight fasting front lights nevada guilt monsters sing driven worse demons panic bills shit wood tiger ucla singing hang shooting michael jackson believing paying sitting suck native americans fill loneliness traditional wear honestly throw passing pokemon gotta paid ninjas silent worlds pack smoke library minds gps diving judas curiosity aftermath fuel b2b fuck intention emotion waste window rock and roll betrayal amen countdown died lonely bass deeper underground jungle grave releasing ascension bet expert mike tyson beating solid hates smell kim kardashian marijuana echo limited hiding methods ravens hanging crying superstar plans bitch leap baptist poison multiverse envy greed found zen sciences rivers paint joyful closed oasis coast shut purple absolute sad bots grass bought goddess aligning judging djs rape rocket trapped mainstream glow throwing mantra sober felt walks lizzo gov quien hawks thank god edm meditate shades nonsense decoding nah silly shorts mad singles armor robin williams omg billie eilish fin ignite lied ludwig van beethoven ducks yang george lucas lemon bus ranked ruined boosting decided makers lala cousin bare surf alarm myspace martyrs acid thc shrek touring bells bro matt damon whitney houston toxicity laying anarchy men in black closure goodnight watched djing makes rick and morty pit wandering burning man i love cigarettes blackrock upside heavens pyramid debating experimental collisions burnt tsa white supremacy malibu lay imperfection tied stunning barely bag mandarin bury bleeding sala goin betrayed two weeks ay glitch rocking lava cries abandonment tasty granny laid restless cree odd learned wet unreal crows likeness hershey good friends rotten pikachu drifting attached rewind philosophical yin blanket pin clique diplo robins chicken soup lucid sticks and stones unmasked kidd whoop northern lights emp dubstep lax auntie downside threaten attracted black magic skrillex mouths of course live nation vips trippin sleepless fins edc insomniacs carbohydrates delusions oh god manic bruh one world imitate unreleased silos choking time capsules energi aw charmed white supremacists chance the rapper pressed repression eskimos sweater fast forward electronic music somethings compression stocking delighted spirit animals raves watchful fetal gestures flashing synchronicities swallowed breadcrumbs code switching father time foxy rebuilt staple truth hurts ancient egyptians admiration lunacy randomly voiceless pave suess humpty dumpty save the date panicking killin deities kandi unsuccessful sparrows shhhh huevos daw ableton cherished grand prize dillon francis epitome laced synesthesia droughts time money butters reawakening rin supa piecing unexplainable lackey chainsaws repeats effing uhhh that guy blindly flatten white lights news channel excision medicine man will you givin stifle deafening chava symphonies festival season whispered skyy aight coughs big words sunn red blue phone home savin everything everything callous jungle fever jamies uuml alternately chala where do we go tin roof bangarang in la sprites dissociative hunny inwardly gasping hey dude scary monsters translucent this guy aloft no sympathy wonderous adventure club plain jane plur rezz sleepin losin xylophone female dj big drop liquidate electric daisy carnival romantically lost lands god on inciting incident central washington bloo disintegrate blindfolds hobo johnson ous windblown alerted all seeing eye iridescence abolishment owsla chiodos taunted look at drapery blue red lizzard too deep from first to last google university josh pan matt maeson steve erwin abbot kinney grand delusion wubs phoenixx rocket summer i died christ not levitated respect it ease my mind brostep sonny moore bass canyon allison wonderland dupstep

Aftermath. (Unreleased) Sunnï Blū, -the kidd. {THE TIME CAPSULE}

[ENTER THE MULTIVERSE]

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 15, 2023 4:55

this is a cringeworthy read, i'm sure of it. {THE TIME CAPSULE] Here lies everything I won't delete, but wouldn't dare to publish (as of yet), and therefore banish to the land and/or realm of impossibility, where everything entirely consists of unimaginable, unfathomable, inconceivable, never-ever-happened ( or will) unexistence. Nothing Here Exists. Amen. (I didn't write this.) The Colenel's Jounal. “Would he be mad reading this shit? “ I mean. I have to step back at this point and admit to reading this shit to myself at this point, that... I stumbled upon an interview with none other than The Great Mike Tyson--who--if coincidences actually existed--coincidentally dated my mother oh-way-back-when. I remember the shenanigans she went through to get him to sign a pair of boxing gloves for an auction she hosted, once, when I was younger. For that, I've always gotten a little chuckle, whenever I've randomly ended up watching something. Dude is funny. As for other dude? I'm so lost. It's almost like Insomniac (or whoever) can read my thoughts--or at the very least, my text messages. It's been a year of strangeness, and I'm now more lost than found. Why is Pasqualle so strangely familiar? What is this connection, i'm missing? Who am I, if not S U P A C R E E? I'm aware of my cosmic insignificance, my societal displacement. I am nothing useful that I know of, but it seems so that I've been being followed. So maybe he's not a white supremacist, after all...he seems to love as much as I do--if not more. So, that one's my fault, as everything is. I wonder if the window of opportunity has truly closed. I wonder what to make of all this, at all. I'm so, so confused, and so lost, and so… ...confused... First, I levitated. Still can't get over that (literally) Then....everything else. Literally everything else. From playing drums at Ruskos set, to weirdly making my way to Excision, just “following a vibe”--my failed suicide attempt, and running away to Bass Canyon where, everything in my reality officially shattered. Now, here I am...about to be homeless, jobless, and lost in love. I can't shake it off anymore, I can't let it go. My brain's wrapped around all of it, all the time. Prayers, Mantras, Methods. I'm driving myself crazy trying to wish away the pain. I need to be...need to be… … Needed. Bearr needs me. Sometimes, in all the pain--I fail to see that. But he does--and if I can't make it in show business...how are we meant to survive? There's no room for depression and poverty in motherhood. After losing the twins...I just can't. I can't be sad and parent at the same time. And, maybe that makes me weak. Maybe it makes me stupid. Maybe I've just had enough. But there's nothing I wouldn't give just to know that there's love, somewhere out there for me. Is it selfish that that's all I want? I think i'm a good person, but maybe i'm wrong. I can account for hundreds of premonitions, predictions, visions--outstanding sensitivity to energy...but how could I misread, and misjudge, so easily? Something inside me never really made it out of that tent. Then, going back--maybe it was all of me, that never made it out of that ambulance. Am I just the special kid in class--and it's obvious I've been left behind? When I hear myself speak aloudt, I wonder if I am retarded. I feel other people also wonder. Either way, how would anyone have known about my musical history so broadly, as it's been displayed? There's no going back from it. I can't go back to being a regular “Skrillex” fan. It's almost like...almost like I can't go back at all. And I miss that, a lot--just being able to be honest about what my taste in music is, who my favorite musician is…. I tense up when I hear the word “Skrillex”. In good company, I can shrug it off, I guess…. But on any regular day, it still feels deep. It doesn't leave my mind, ever. I can pretend to move on, but I can't unlove. I can't unlove. So, i'm two-for-two...three-for-three, if you count Josh Pan's video, where his face swells up and he turns into a reptile… I remember waking up for work with swollen eyes, and bulging, puffy skin...the way the spiral to insanity began...not with suicide, at all--at least, in the traditional sense. I was working 80 hours a week. I needed it--I needed out of my marriage. Pasqualle's sweater Sonny's Sweater, now falling apart--because, yes--I've worn it every day for nearly a year. A red, white, and blue blanket, reminding me of my presidential ambitions--which have since, not faded...but become realistically reflected with this sense that, I have much to fulfill between now-and-never. I'll only run for President if I can afford it. I can only afford it if I am successful in music. I found it heartwarming that Mike Tyson is so enamoured by the culture. To see him swell with joy, such as I have, upon discovering the world of raves. Apparently, there will be some kind of permanent Oasis, someday...I hope I live to see it. Better yet, I hope I live to play there. I want my chance on all the stages, as selfish as it may seem. To earn a place behind the decks, an unrealized dream. But, can I find it to become all that it takes? To read and move a room, to create and connect with people, live onstage. To inspire a crowd--telling a story with music. To give love, the best way that I can. I miss myself...but no I don't. I do miss never having to worry about whether I was too fat to be found attractive by someone I vehemently admire--but never thought about sexually, in all of the years i've loved watching him live. But, its a vibe. Much ado about Elon Musk. I'm not smart enough to become a rocket scientist--and it's too late for me to become an astronaut, as I once dreamed...but there's something in the space above us all, that seems to connect the space between us all--and it's almost as is the walls are caving in. Time and space continues to collapse upon itself. I might be broken forever...but then, I always was. Who'd have thought the Grand Prize for your third suicide attempt is a Skrillex? I'm cursed, in the way that...it won't fall off. My brain won't un-Sonny itself. I'm on default to give a fuck now, and there's no turning back. I guess this is what I get for hating on *fangirls*...now i am one. Problem is, I'm a lot less cute. How often does shit like this happen? There's hypnosis through music--and then there's losing your entire soul to something outside of yourself. Why and how am I so out of place, in this world? ‘You're too good for this world.' Nothing's been forgotten, it's just getting more suppressed. I can pretend to move on, but I won't. I just found the Holy Mecca of research for my weird, invasive project. Apparently DeadMau5 had some kind of comedy show, or something--called “coffee run” It seems to be about...2014, but haven't bothered to check yet--I'm sure, though that this predates the infamous ‘fued'. Blah blah blah--i'm learning too much about these people. People. Real people. ...was interrupted to watch the new episode of Rick and Morty; Lucky me. One half-hour and several belly-rolling laughs later, I'm back...with slightly more self confidence that, if The Heavens grant me whatever kind of combination of confidence and focus that it will take to bring the Festival Saga If nobody's sampled this video, I've stumbled upon a literal goldmine. Life imitates art--and music imitates music. “I love it when it's super sweaty.” (How do I resonate with this so well?) “ A Los Angeles Real Estate Guy In Torono”, says Dillon. “Yeah, there's a few of those.”, Joel recants, stoically. Now i'm watching people who never mattered on YouTube, in a finally “Sonny says…” If i can ever make my brain learn the magic that makes something like Ableton somehow turn into a banger. “Does he drive?!” I've wondered this myself. “I don't think he does.” I knew it. Dillon Francis' awkwardness is reminiscent of mine...again, here I am wondering...who I might be if I were born a white male--if nothing was changed, but the body. CRUSTPUNKS. How did I get here? Oh, yeah. I specifically opened an incognito window to...fuck it. I know what I'm here for. The thing is, I don't know what i'm blessed with. I don't know that i'm talented… It could all just be a Grand Delusion… Do I hate myself enough to try this? A movie where the entirety of the fabric of [my] universe is music, and the musicians that make it. A universe that already existed in the Multiverse of Rick and Morty, since it's strange inception into my being. Wait, how the fuck did I get here? I was already on a writing tangent Probably--I hate enough to “ i get to go home--not tomorrow, but the next day” This experience is becoming so humanizing. It is a job, this music shit--Touring takes you everywhere but home. What the fuck is ‘home?' Perhaps I am meant for this shit, after all. I don't have a home, anyway. I also don't have any music under my belt, but--with any luck, I can pump out the LP I promised my twins. Today Marks 5 years since Skyy passed away. May 23rd will be 2 years, since Phoenixx left us. It's not a good time of year, for grief. With no friends I can trust (Annie's Toxicity is again rearing its head), no family that loves me the way a family should...I find myself completely isolating from what Love is, almost forgetting what it might have felt like. “How often are you home?” “KAAAAHHHHHHHHHN” If i'm ever lucky enough to learn how to make Dupstep--that deserves to go before a fucking deadly drop. I've officially seen Skrillex more times in person than ever on video--which disincluded, of course, the tent incident--something I'm realizing that if I'm unable to catch up with myself in time, I'll have to live with forever. Can I answer my own prayers? At this point, i've given up any expectation of what it might be like to achieved enough to earn any kind of place in that world *their* world... 5/6/2020 Life is unfair sometimes. Like--do I want tacos, or divine inspiration? Do I put off fasting for yet another day, just for the temporary comfort and satisfaction of eating? Does limiting my eating to once every 24-hour-or-less suffice as enough of a self-sacrifice, that my prayers might be answered? I highly doubt that it is, but still--I often ride the line between just allowing myself to feel good when I can (and food does, make me feel so....so good) and remaining steady in my fasting. Then, it has been over 6 months of almost constant fasting and praying, all over someone I haven't properly met--all over myself. Because, the longer I stay in this mindset--the clearer it becomes that it is all the same. At the core, there's only really one thing in existence. Skyy will have passed away 5 years ago tomorrow. To think, I should have had 5-year-old twins. They would have been so beautiful; I've never quite imagined them so, umti now. I miss my babies so much. Will I ever be okay again? I thought to record a song for Skyy, but it would never be ready by tomorrow, in the perfect way that I would want it to be. I don't want to put out anything less than the best. I'm being as patient as I possibly can with teaching myself--but grow frustrated in my limitations. The only thing standing between me, and the tools I need to make the music I have...is me. (Really, it's money.) Lack of money is keeping me from being unstoppable. With unlimited money, I'd have a home--I could fully pay all 4-years of my tuition at UCLA….ny dream school. I'd study music, anthropology, astrology….maybe even engineering. I can't make myself prettier--but I can make myself smarter. Google University just isn't cutting it. I want to make a difference in the world by any means, and i'm trapped behind the gate of poverty. I just want a closet full of harem pants, chuck taylors, and T-shirts with stuff I like on them. I just want to wear my kandi every day. I just want to be behind the decks atop the stages of my favorite places… I want to be someone's favorite DJ. I want to be one of my favorite DJ's favorite DJ I, I, I… How selfish. What does the world need? Less people. Well, i'm honestly one-less, I guess, if I can;t make it in music, in art. If I can't make a decent living just by being myself...i'm not meant to live at all. That much is true--no life worth living includes waking up every day to go to a job I hate, that barely pays my bills. No life is worth living that Something strange happens to me when my favorite people go ‘live' on instagram Social Media, a young demon with whom I constantly evade, when I am not forcibly fighting to fit the status quo (which, I cannot.) Watching my social media right now is like the digital equivalent of “You can't sit with us.” I've grown attached to OWSLA like some sort of distant, imaginary family--only, I know this is something I've just embedded into my mind--the ultimate wishful thinking. Everything I do seems fragile, as if the grid I had discovered not only exists in the outer world, but also my inner--that everything I do, think, say, sing, speak makes a difference in what will happen moving forward. Reawakening my center has been difficult, saying the very least--I am almost paralyzed by negativity--made catatonic through senses with which I cannot control; My ‘home' life has become a hell where i'll-spirits and pitiful thoughts are cast about me--in reality, I have no home. In truth, I'm unsure that I have any purpose, either. It's all been bothering me… Now it's something that just hurts, like everything else. Add to the pain, subtract from willingness to live. Add to the trauma, subtract from the motivation to succeed. How much of my fault is this? Who did it? What is it for? Amongst the most otherworldly of theories, the possibility that extraterrestrials had actual involvement in removing Sonny from wherever he was supposed to be (Burning Man, albeit) and placing him where I was. I've wondered how else the dancing shadows cast against the canvas of the tent were so perfectly made-- ancient egyptian prophecies foretold as a light show, in the moments leading up to the one where the entirety of my being was shifted, in an instant. I dreamed of a B2B with Skrillex, and instead got a face-to-face with Sonny Moore. One, apparently, does not quite equal the other. Eight (or so) months later, and I've filtered through all the stages of grief--for all of the ways I had to lose him--as much as one could be lost, without actually dying. But, perhaps I am dead. My soul and spirit at least, are trapped, and tainted torturously from all I've come to gather. Running into the night, like a bat fresh out of hell, away from the visions I was forced to have from our exchange-- I can only imagine, had I acted any differently and stayed, rather than fled what else I may have seen. In only the few short moments we shared together...I was able to see more of his life than for anyone I've ever ‘seen' for, besides myself. To have, after only a few moments--seen both backwards into his past--and forwards into a seemingly shared future of some sort. I don't know what else to call this creepy psychic shit, other than “seeing”. To even call myself a “seer” would be a heavy title, I'd be too uncomfortable to claim. Still, vivid memories of the dude's past--and chilling premonitions of the future, have left me disgustingly sick with a concern that wholly did not exist, beforehand. But, when faced with the question: “What would it be like to actually lose him?” I fucking lost it. I've never taken well to celebrity deaths--perhaps, overly sensitive in ways that suite absolutely nobody--I just so happen to have fallen apart numerous times, upon learning of the passing of those i've long cherished. I collapsed fully at Michael Jackson's passing, scrolling through the African TV channels in disbelief, as I desperately searched for a News Channel in English to confirm that it was indeed, true. This was, of course, a couple years after I cried for hours with Back to Black on repeat in the wake of Amy Winehouses' death--going even further back, I can recall arguing with a classmate that Steve Erwin, another hero, was brave--rather than ‘stupid', and undeserving of his untimeley demise. A special place lies in my heart for the day I remember losing Robin Williams-- a weird memory which collides in the now, with my affinity for Skrillex music and the strange outer connectivity my emotions seem to have in the passing of those I wholeheartedly admire; I've shed tears for Whitney Houston, Prince--I've shed tears for all of them. But none so much as for Skrillex, who is [surprisingly] still alive… And I'm mad about it. I'm mad about it, because I was [partially] happy in my place, as a fan. I wasn't even the best fan, or the biggest fan (metaphorically speaking--physically, though--I probably hold a record of some sort.) I wasn't following his social media--I wasn't following his anything, honestly. I was just crossing my fingers that with every lineup released, I might find the name “Skrillex” plastered to the top of it, or standing out broadly against the other ‘S' names, if alphabetically presented. I'm mad about it, because I hate myself. I've been hating myself my entire life. But i've never hated that I loved Skrillex--in fact, I've always been quite proud, having watched the project skyrocket, as EDM penetrated pop-culture in the years following my college endeavors. Never really thought to think that at any point, we might be equals. We're not--outwardly, anyway. Inwardly, though? Fuck me. It's like I'm bound to it by the roots of the Tree of Life. Like something in my DNA was activated by an overabundance of Skrillex. I've undoubtedly, and by far crossed the threshold of having listened to 10,000 Hours of Skrillex, guaranteed. No calculations needed. Still, there are perhaps millions of others who share the same affinity--and at least a few thousands who are more outwardly obsessive than in. It works, when I need to know something I'd rather just ask Sonny myself, but can't--there's always a kid in the fan pool who has been quick to find whatever information I'm looking for, long, long before I've come to look for it. Poor guy. For almost an entire year, that's all I've really been able to think. ‘Poor guy.' Because, if the roles were reversed--and for whatever reason I decided to make my way into someone's tent at a music festival (I wouldn't) and I scared them into a shock, resulting in them fleeing away from me--I'd feel like shit. And, if I had been touring my entire life and watched the culture grow and morph into the nearly unmanageable able monster it has become--i'd feel like shit. If I had to watch an ambulance cart away someone in the crowd during one of my sets, I'd feel like shit. If I had to do a live set while I felt like shit, I'd feel like shit. and ...if some random fan fell head over heels in love with me, simply because I crawled into her tent, or made really good music, or made her feel some kind of way… I'd feel like shit. And that shit probably happens all the time. It's been 10 long years for me, with Skrillex-- but I can't imagine how long the last 10 years have been, as Skrillex. Now I think about all the shit DJs go through, being DJs….what's more, I've had to give in-depth thought to what it means to be a celebrity at all--what it might be like to have someone grow an obsession over you--unprovokingly. Although my ‘obsession' for this particular person can't technically be considered ‘unprovoked' (I was minding my own business, after all--and Skrillex was not on the lineup.) I can't help but feel for those in the limelight whose charisma and talent combined attract every type of creeper imaginable. I'm just the kind of creeper that wants to make music; any previous searches as an attempt to ‘get to know' Skrillex, previous to last August, originated in attempting to comprehend how to create such organic sounds--exploring and studying how intricately layered and carefully arranged each of my favorite sounds and songs were made. Piecing together how exactly an artist like such, had become as such. Now, i'm just entangled in self-doubt, as it seems the entire next generation is equipped with whatever skillset it takes to become an electronic musician. Self-doubt, as I fear that my body weight intimidated him as much as his presence intimidated me. Again: All me. All bad. I've nowhere to turn to to unleash this shit--it has to be a secret-- and even letting it slip to Annie in the isolation of the aftermath has felt like a mistake, since I allowed it to happen. Can I keep a secret? Ha. There are things that only I know, certainly. The premonition I did subtly speak of, I refused to unearth in detail, even to Annie. The other visions I was made to have, still my own secret; I've begun to wonder if, upon meeting Sonny, I would keep it to myself; I suppose that would depend on nature and context. But, I think about it every day. It is my first thought upon waking up, my final thought before coming to rest--it has permeated into the only dreams I ever have anymore--crowds my semi-waking thoughts as I toss-and-turn throughout the night; the amount of energy exchanged, the amount of concern that consumes me....lets me know that it is all apart of something far beyond my comprehension, far beyond my senses...far beyond any understanding of the universe that I may have. And, it hurts. As bad as it is for me, it's probably worse for him--IF he remembers any of it. Then, probably a seasoned drinker (lol, “probably”) There's a good chance that, well-- he does remember. Oh God no. If I could motion to be erased, I would. I've been trying to erase myself for the better part of a year, including and certainly not limited to August 4th--an attempt I can stand to think I had not fully recovered from by the time it all happened. What the fuck did happen? Though it can't be denied that each of us possesses some kind of magic--the origins of mine can be traced back, at least on one side. Powers I was ‘born with', as told by my father--something I only believed until I was old enough that it didn't make sense--and something I was forced to recognize once I was old enough that it did. I want to know what exactly it is that ties us... Where this love--which is what it is, undeniably-- originates. I've spent the better part of the last year praying and meditating, and attempting to loosen the knots in my stomach enough to self-soothe enough to settle that, at worst-- Sonny was just being a pretty white boy, looking for a good time--and I just became a victim by knowing how to have one. Alternately--how fuck fuck would he even know I exist? As i've stated, I was the epitome of a silent Skrillex fan, prior to all these spectacular occurrences. I may have, at some point online--said something about Skrillex being my Spirit Animal… (still true) But can't imagine what else might have been garnered in my attainable, tangible history, which would alert him of my existence at all. Then, with all the money in the world, you truly can do anything… And that's what I hate in all this. Him--having all the money in the world, and me, having none… The very thing that separates us from settlement, myself from closure. Really, the only thing I want. Closure. ‘I got love, fuck your money.' Sonny can be anyone--he's earned that right. He can be with anyone--deservingly so. I want for him the very best--and, knowing that I am not (physically, anyway) am dismissive of any judgement cast. I wouldn't want me, either--looks matter, I know. I just want to know what he means to me--in this lifetime, in this realm, in this reality. I didn't have to be moved from where I was to be inspired by him--I just always was. I didn't have to think about being attracted to him--I just always was. I didn't have to think about being connected through the music--I just always was. And it all came crashing down in a tent, at the bottom of the rabbit hole--where I lost my mind--after having already lost my soul, to something beyond the senses, long ago. I committed wholly and permanently to making music when Phoneixx died, almost 2 years ago. The point was never to sound like Skrillex, but rather to be like Skrillex, as an artist--but, after much speculative examination--I guess, I always was. I lost myself in the early days of Myspace. From First To Last rang through the hallways of my middle school's corridors. Chiodos carried me through the days of wrist-cutting and air-dust huffing, through the days of binging-and-purging, wishing I was prettier--and in the height of all that is the drama of living in my very own Teenaged Wasteland… The Rocket Summer was handed to me by the hands of an angel, as I transitioned out of awkward adolescent depression and into an almost-well-adjusted life at a performing arts school, as an aspiring musician, singer, dancer and storyteller… The dream that carried me out of Utah, and into the Heart of Hollywood at the age of 16… The dream I thought died, long ago. When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go? Billie Ellish's spirit collided with mine, as the first time I heard her voice, I shattered inwardly, and shivered in the resonance that is the understanding of pain, born undoubtedly in love; I shuddered to think that someone so young could feel so devoid of the willingness to live, to move onward. My response upon first experiencing her music, of course, a genuine “...Is she ok?” Three little words. I tend to really mean them, any time I ask. “Are you OK?!” I blurted, as my entire self exploded into shock, as I immediately recognized the face I've known for years--and looked through the widened eyes of one so now devastatingly human--to something inside of myself. Something about my voice shifted him; He became a mirror for all my pain, all my doubt--all the shame I have, for all that I am-- my demons came straight to the surface. Voiceless, now, and shielded in the fetal position, we faced each other silently. 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm Sorry.', I thought loudly, as I lay panicking. I stared down into my chest, ashamed to be anything but invisible, thoughts racing. I dare not lift my head to look at him. My heart pounded, as I lay screaming silent apologies for my appearance--for my very presence, for my own existence. I couldn't process his presence in my reality. Choking back tears, I tried not even to so much as breathe, as I silently apologized for being born--and though I wanted nothing more than to reach out to hold him, I lay all-but-lifelessly--wondering what went so wrong that he would seek to find me. The familiar smell of liquor permeated the air, as my heart sank, throbbing as it pounded...I know an alcoholic, when I smell one. I did actually wonder if he was okay....(and I've been wondering daily, ever since.) But clearly, he wasn't okay. Clearly, I wasn't. Clearly, nobody's ok. He slipped his praying hands between my thighs, as I died inside--and all my outer senses blended to become all, and nothing at once, again. Exit Skrillex, Enter Sonny. How does a mere peasant earn a spot in the company of the Highest Priest? I've not bargained with the Devil, but begged the Heavens that my life would end before his...the First Fast emerged as a direct result of self-sacrifice; To serve as a protection against misjudgement--to realign my soul with it's true intensive purpose--in hopes that my body would shrink to form something suitable. The memory of his hands between my thighs, a haunting reminder that--I just may be too big for him… The reality is...of all that I am, and all that I have, and all that I wish to be...it just may be that--he's too big for me… metaphorically speaking. I'll have to become a damn-near Superstar, just to get to know the people--that know the people--that know the people, that know people who can connect me to Sonny, on any level. I'll have to get in line behind millions of other hopeful DJ's, producers, singers, dancers, songwriters--hundreds of thousands of entertainers who might kill-or-die to get to know Skrillex in any way-shape-or form. Romantically, I'd be competing against at least a million perfect-bodied beauty-queen fangirls who would do anything--and I mean anything--for their shot at Skrillex. The truth is, I'm not trying to get to know Skrillex; The truth is, i'd rather know Sonny. (Whatever that's supposed to mean, right?) I don't question at all our potential compatibility; there's no doubt in my mind that there's some chemistry between us--be it of ancient origin, an extra terrestrial genetic code, or otherwise...but I'd bet any money I actually had, that someone as highly regarded as Skrillex would be ridiculed, trolled, and tremendously hated by many, many fans--for associating with someone like me. I don't even know if it's like that--but, again--crawling into someone's tent is...kind of intimate. What in Heavens would one want with me, when he could have perfection-- Absolute perfection? I kind of get it. I'm used to being fetishised. I've always been the black girl who liked white guys--I've lead a life that's made it easy to learn that Jungle Fever is often taboo among the White Caucasion men who find black women attractive enough to fuck--but would never want to “date” us, or bring us home. I've learned that--at the end of the day-- most white guys, want white kids--even if they like to fuck black girls. Then, there's the added bonus of some genetic flaw which has allowed my body to at one point, have ballooned up to 380 pounds-- a body which, even after a 200+ pound weight loss, would disgust anyone with eyes, in what most would consider “cute rave attire”. And, although shrinking from a size 28 to a size 10 is somewhat of a ‘grand' achievement, I look like an asymmetrical potato sack with my clothes off. If there's anything I know about men--and especially the affluent ones--they love to have trophies to showcase. I've yet to see a body like mine on the red carpet, or as arm candy--or as the leading lady, anywhere. No, there's no such thing as a fat Cinderella. Still, he's one of the most handsome creatures i've ever seen-- undoubtedly one of the most beautiful creatures on this planet. I will continue to love what I know of him wholly and unconditionally. On my best days, I even hope to live long enough, and well enough to have the honor of properly meeting him. Never could I have the courage to ask him on a date--nor would I subject him to the cruelty of the outer world by alluding to the fact that he may, in fact be someone more important to me, than as just a musician--as with anyone i've ever loved, I only want for him the best. On my worst days, The Devil assures me that it was Annie he was really looking for, who he may have seen me with at the plethora of festivals we attended together last year--or perhaps, even Idania, who was supposed to have been there with me…and it would make sense. The Devil also constantly reminds me of how much prettier they both are than me--and better in every way. But, it was long ago that I came to terms with the fact that anyone who might come to love me--would also love Annie and would love her more thoroughly--her, having the more attractive body and face, being more ideally pretty. Standing next to Annie, I always lose. Even on a good day. All this, I can be sure to cast aside, however--because at the very best--he was looking for me, and everything between then-and-now builds into something of substance or significance… and at worse, my favorite figure in music absolutely hates me, and regrets my existence as much as I do. Either way, Skrillex hits hard any time of the day, any day of the week. And… Either way, Sonny hits home, all day, every day--until I can manage to learn to speak. Eight pages later, and it still hurts. Eight pages, and i'm still mad. I'm still crying. I'm still useless. I'm still stuck. Stuck on stupid. Stuck on Sonny. Stuck on Skrillex. Just… Stuck. And it hurts. 5/5 Another day. Nothing makes me hate myself more than waking up. ‘Don't look at the phone.' instructions, handed to me some time ago by the Divine--since then, I make it a point not to look at my phone, if I can help it, before I've sat up to pray, and meditate. Lately, I've been unable to relax at all enough to focus on a proper meditation, before realizing my actual self-worth (nothing), and falling into the depressive non-motion that has been me. How many evil men will it take being caught in the midst of, will it take for me to realize that I've been allowing myself to painfully absorb their essences, even without a single touch? Just living here alone has set me further back from my goals than I was--then--I'm beginning to feel that my ‘roomate' may have ties to White Supremacy; the evidence does just keep on building. It has occured to me that Jason's warning that Nick may be deep undercover for some Government agency is most likely true. Though I err on the side of not snooping through other peoples' things--I've happened to stumble across indicators which point to the likely case that he is, in fact, hired by the government or some other private entity--probably as part of some secret experiment, assigned to psycologically torture and disable mentally fragile individuals; It seems as though the experiement was designed in order to test morale, will power, self-control, and proper judgement-- tests which I've been concious of, but in the moment have not always cared about passing-or-failing. From the painful assortment of disgusting and obnoxious sounds make throughout the day, torturing me through unpleasant and peace-shattering sounds, left victimized by my synesthesia and recently pinpointed misophonia--or something similar...whatever it is that makes slamming doors, cabinets, and the items crashing to the floor after lazily being thrown across the room methods of torture. To the cavalcade of poisonous, sugary and addicted substances, which only seem to appear or are offered during crucial fasts--or, pushily and passive-aggressively left in my living space without asking whether or not i'd like any. Just left there, to be discovered upon finishing a shower, or returning from a nightly walk. And on days when I am actually hungry, or needing to eat? I am offered nothing. Only when I fast am I ever offered any sustenance. It says almost too much about my roomate as a person--to offer every time, or never at all would be acceptable, and understandable--but to only invite one to eat when one feels so ‘inclined' is beyond cruelty. It's privilege showing itself to be one of the only faces uglier than mine, that i'm aware of. While i've elected to use my headphones as a shield, life's not always easy immersed in a sound bath of isochronic tones and Theta Waves--and though it does excite me to have expanded my music library, with additions and updates I've been longing for ages-- it's almost more stressful to think about the amount of music that I don't have. Songs I would add to my “sets”, if you can call them that. If I can call myself a DJ--if I can call myself a person, anymore. Really, all I am is hurt feelings and trauma wrapped in flesh; I might be less of a person than I ever was, once. Everything costs--whether it be money, the world's currency--or time, the currency of the soul. Torturous is the life of an artist, who cannot herself make ‘art', as she sees fit. Everyone in Hollywood has a screenplay in their back pocket; Everyone in LA has a dream, two-to-three-jobs, and a side hustle--and me? I'm just learning to DJ to self-soothe, having given up hope of ever becoming anything greater than the happiest guest at the rave nearest you. It's harder than it looks….(or, maybe it isn't, and i'm just retarded.) Building a music collection worthy enough to grace the decks in any of my favorite venues, is an arduous task--maybe this is why all the popular DJs are pretty white boys--the proof is in the privilege. Money, money, money...I used to make plenty of it, and was always exhausted--now I make none, and am always exhausted. What's worth what cost? Time = Money. In LA, and in the world. But by anyone's definition--and especially mine--LA is the world. Or, at the very least, sets the tone for the world. Truly, nothing is free. DJing is more expensive than I could have ever imagined--once again, in any direction I turn, there's a ladder to climb. I've not got the time or energy left in my sadly depleting lifesource left to storm gates, crawling over heads and cutting down those in my way. While it's certain that ‘Competitive Greatness' is the key atop the Pyramid of Success, there are 14 other bricks below to lay the foundation of that which one might call success, to be garnered as imagined through the eyes of a man, anyway, who lived in the 1930's. John L. Wooden may have been right--and may still be right--if I were a standard male (we'll leave race out of it, for now…..for now.) Still, i've been using the Pyrimid of Success as a guidepost, in what it is exactly I may have to do, or be, in order to become something. Not even something great, just something. Perhaps, if I can make it to being something, eventually I might become someone. Oh, to be a person would be nice. For now, I'll just have to settle on tricking my useless sack of anatomy into being a DJ. There's nothing outside of it, anymore. Bass Canyon truly was my last rave--not that I enjoyed it, honestly. Though I've attempted to retrain my brain around the trauma which resulted from that weekend, it did serve as a turning point--a sort of going-away party, as I departed from my home as a no-holds-bar Kandi Kid. Happy Graduation, OG Raver! Little did I know that, with the multidimentionality of our universe, I would be presented, through the world of possibility--the ability to at least observe with the naked eye that there lie more beyond the decks-- a space that may have been made for me. I'll never forget the moment I knew I would be a DJ--or at least try, for the life (or the death) of me. Electric Daisy Carnival changed my life--an experience ten years in the making that catapulted me into the depths of my wildest dreams--unbeknownst to me that I hadn't yet the ability to swim, in such that is the tempest of my own subconscious mind. But--that part of this story deserves its own dedicated elaboration; For now, i'll only look back--and realize that it was there that I aligned with my highest self in the truest sense, that, at least then, I actually believed that I could become a top DJ. I've lost the flight to stay afloat in the salty sea that is the millions of other people trying to make it to the mainstages of our favorite places, and begun to sink into the reality of the entertainment industry as a whole...the reality of the world, as a whole anymore. Looking around at the world's top DJs is less encouraging and inspirational than it should be. Nearly every headliner looks like every kid who ever bullied me, every guy who ever turned me down--every kid hosting the party I wasn't invited to. As for the females of the bunch--I find it frustrating that not one yet has been of any color other than yellow--and even then--we all know the world's men love Asian women. While I can admire girls like Rezz and Allison Wonderland--I wonder what kind of career, if any, if either of them were black, or heavyset--or, my losing genetic combination: Both. Would a fat Allison Wonderland have ever made it into the industry? Would a black Rezz ever become a staple in bass music, and rave culture? If Softest. Hard had a pot belly, would she have been discovered? Then, there are up-and-comings beyond my complete comprehension--those who are visually appealing, but musically inept; I'll leave out any names, and still salute them--anyone who can wrap their brain around any standard DAW enough to make an entire song, is absolutely more talented, definitely more intelligent than I am. [I'm not.] But, I can't help but wonder: How easy was it for any of them, being so pretty, to learn to do what they do--just by being kind and asking a friend for help to learn production? In so many years of raving, I've watched beautiful girls get pulled backstage--and even pulled on stage, to connect with the artists and VIPs. I've been brought to tears as I've watched rude girls with porcelain faces caked in makeup be lifted over rails into the promised land, picked to be plucked by just her eyes and smile combined with the perfection of a flat and flawless stomach. Pretty girls always get priority. Me? Well, I get the dead eyes of the drunken DJ, staring down at me through his whiskey glass, as he beckons the stagehands to assist the perfect-bodied princess backstage...but i'm only front-and-center so I can feel the music move, and watch all the energy bounce around, matching the movement of the expert's hands on deck, to the waves of sound colliding with the rest of the world. True, my mind might wander to what wonderful experiences await the perfect princess, as she disappears behind the decks, into a world i've yet to know, but only seen: The life I know exists beyond the rails, beyond the decks...the world I can only wish to build, for myself. Big ugly black girls don't get pulled backstage. Big ugly black girls are token ancillary characters, it seems, in the plot which writes the story of the modern rave. In a sea of new-generation ravers raised by Kim Kardashian and YouTube makeup tutorials--left lost in a torturous chamber of perfection--women who can wear anything, beautifully. Women who get whatever they want, whenever they want--because they know they can; 10's, to my -3. Bottom Line: Looks matter, until all the men in the world go blind. Sad-but-true. I move not to objectify the women whose music and movement through the clearly sexist music entertainment industry. God only knows how hard each of them has worked to earn a spot so highly ranked amongst those to whom we all admire--the legends, the greats. Each woman behind the decks has become a reflection of everything I wish I ever was--but also a painful reminder of everything that I am not. Of every girl i've ever come behind. Perhaps, this is the result of growing up the as the only ‘black girl', in the backwards, racist po-dunk town I was transplanted into: A place where I spent years constantly being told, taught, and trained that it was more admirable to have light skin, blonde hair, blue eyes...then again, The Media has always done a particularly good job at creating and maintaining what the ideal beauty standard should be, or is--and an excellent job of perpetuating stereotypes. People never expect me to sound how I do, or to like what I like--because it's “white people stuff”; and ten years ago when I discovered raving, there wasn't another black girl (or boy!) in sight for miles, at any rave I went to. I was the oddity, the token--the “what the fuck” person, in an already entirely what-the-fuck place. Fast Forward to 2020: My Freshman Year as a DJ. And...as it appears, the world behind the decks is just as non-diverse as the dancefloor was when I first began this escapade through the world of immersive music. Do I want to be the first ethnically-bred Female DJ to reach the top? OF COURSE. Can I? It's not up to me. Now I'm confusededly caught in the web that is rumours circulating of an ongoing race-war, and wondering if I've been left to die smack-dab in the middle of it. Amongst currently living with a white supremacist (or, extremely ignorant and culturally intolerant biggoted racist at the very, very least.), it seems that White Superiority may be a driving theme amongst the Electronic Music Industry--that maybe the world I've rather grown up in, and come to love has more twists, turns, and dark alleys to look through than the obvious ‘secrets' that loom in the world of rave. All seeing is the eye that watches over all. Insomniac's crew is among one of the least racially diverse I've ever seen--if I were Pasqualle, I might think to at least try to make it look as though there were a plethora of ethnic backgrounds who work together to tie the knot holding together the world's biggest metaphorical kandi: Insomniac, the Kingdom of Mainstream rave culture. A global endeavor. I wonder how many i've come to admire--Pasqualle included-- are actually White Supremacists, masquerading in the power of positivity and their corporate capitalism, true beliefs and intentions. My curiosity about the man himself peaked during EDC weekend, after stumbling into sign after sign, symbol after symbol--of something I've aspired [in the past] to commit to, but also am wearlily aware of its adversity towards that of my kind; being firstly female, and secondly partially black. Now, I wonder--am I even allowed to enter into the world beyond the decks--or is that preserved for only women with perfect bodies, fair skin--attractive individuals? Does it belong only to those with money? Is there any possibility that there may be room for someone like me to enter the scene--or may only pretty girls with pretty bodies and pretty hair be allowed in the backstage world? Really, I just want to perform. I miss myself as a dancer, as a musician--as an actor, all together. I still wish I had continued on this path a decade ago, when--though weighing over 300 pounds--my confidence at least existed. Teaching myself to DJ has been one of the hardest things i've ever done; I don't know if I'm retarded, but I'm beginning to consider attempting to see someone for some kind of screening. If Paris Hilton can DJ, why is it so hard for me? If Sonny can dink around on a computer with a blown speaker, call himself ‘Skrillex' and make some of the world's most intricate music since that of Beethoven-- why can't I do the same? What makes the difference in all these YouTube tutorials telling me how to do it--and me actually being able to do it? What is it, that's wrong with my brain? But, it's all i've wanted for over a year--to be a DJ, at least. I've always been a musician; It's just been a stop-and-go, allowing for the rest of what has been my life to pass through between the times I could make music, and couldn't. I wish I had the positive support it takes to have encouraged me forward on the path I was already on, since I was 13--instead, I was told I was too fat (and too black) to succeed in the way I wanted to. 10 Years later and Lizzo is at the top of her game, while I beat myself up for losing at mine. Never could I have imagined a world where i'd see an album cover like hers; upon seeing it, I was not only shocked, but enraged: She was everything I was told I could not be. And the Truth Is: more than likely, someone told Lizzo the same thing I was told, and the difference is-- she didn't believe them, and kept moving forward. The difference is: She believed in herself, and loved herself enough to keep trying. The difference is, that everything I needed, I already had--I just never believed it to be so. I'm proud of her...but insanely jealous. My inner child cries “That should have been me.” Truth Hurts. There's more to it, than that; Envy lives in the cavernous pits deep within the confined Hell that is my subconscious mind--and--as the world begins to close in on itself, as consciousness continues expanding, I find myself fighting against the worst of my woes daily. Nowhere can I go without meeting a flawless, forward-figured, and facially exquisite female--rather than submit to catty jealousness, I have learned to admire and nod or bow as a gesture that I am a lesser creature. So now i'm left to wonder as I self-teach myself a trade, if my aspirations may ever be achieved, without possessing any outer beauty. All that's left in the world for me, now, is to become my own favorite DJ. (A title, of course, formerly belonging to Skrillex... ruined, by his untimely arrival as a physical person, into my actual life. More on that later...and infinitely.) I've lately begun asking myself “Is it really worth it?”...but, at the same time, I've never loved anything so much, as to fly on the wings of music--and so i've also wondered “What else will really make me happy?” Tough question. Ideally, I'm the entertainment Guru I always wished to be--not tied down to any one artform, but able to move about freely in all of them. There's no life without theatre--there's no light without entertainment. If living ideally, I could never be any-one-thing-- if living ideally, I am the embodiment of everything I love. But in a world where a snatched waist and a pretty face are a winning (and deadly) combination, I'm 0-0. Life of am ugly kid. Worse off yet, since even Hobo Johnson seems to have more confidence in his awkward and broken rhythms enough to speak his mind clearly enough for the rest of the world to resonate. Might be a good time to revisit, what it is exactly I came for. Perhaps, the answer is nothing: So far, I have nothing, make nothing, am nothing--if there is anything that I am, it's words on a piece of paper--just another ‘thing', another dreaming, wishful hopeful that I can rise above all that has been, and all that I am now...to become something more When training to match with the likes of the devil in preparation for battle against he, you must intend to figure, what the vehicle he has chosen has maintained to use as atool to help build you, as a Saint or an Angel--or one to break you, as Satan he. It has been a fruitful fas, but still i persist, though with a weary eye and curious mind, to the riddle i have yet been presente; ; Much ado about Chicken Soup. “Practice androgyny!” the two meet, immidiately fritening eachother; they transform-- One becomes dog, the other a cat--the cat begins to run. the dog pursues her. they run into a sunny meadow where a river feeds the wildlife and it is vibrant amongst the creatures; the cat climbs up a tree, and the [very friendly] dog stops at the base, looking up at her playfully, with an ask that she come down. She looks down from the tree at him, at a safe distance, and begins to relax on the I've fallen in love with a celebrity. What medicine cures that? Dearest Sonny, I'm unsure quite how to explain myself to you--or if I can, or should explain myself at all.I guess I could start with “I'm sorry.”, but it's almost as if that doesn't quite cover it, and nothing does. Perhaps, i'll start with just “thank you”--thank you for being you--which is something that makes me more ‘myself' than anything, at best. Really though, that's probably a good place to start with the wholehearted apology I owe you; It cannot be easy being yourself, or navigating life with such prominence, importance--as I'm sure you never intended all that you are, as any gift-given may have come as a God-honest, and God-given surprise. That being said; God is only anything that I am --as is, anything that you are. The talent that you possess is insurmountably powerful...and has touched, changed, inspired millions--changing the world and the very fabric of time itself--no matter how unintentionally, in all your humility. Somewhere hidden, I too have talent. I only wish that in this lifetime, I were granted the confidence and charisma to be able to somehow express it. Music is the matter I find I am made of--without being able to express it, I only feel burdened, trapped. It is a beautiful language you speak--you, and the rest of the artists I've grown to admire. It is a language so soothing, I can only long to learn it; I'm afraid though that in this lifetime, too much time and opportunity has passed...in this modern, technologically fast-paced new world...i've been left behind. You are truly a good friend, indeed. In all the sense that it doesn't make, I honor you as someone who has inspired, motivated, comforted, and captivated consistently throughout my existence in this time, in this life; Though i've been in recent times, able to remember your essence in lifetimes past, it is in this lifetime that I find the most befuddling, how your music itself has seemed to find and follow me.Unexplainable, would be the word that I can most easily use to describe anything having to do with it--love, would be the other word. “I love you”, is, I guess, what I was trying to say by tapping you gently three times, before running away. Really though, there aren't many things I could have said, or done--i'd never really been “starstruck” before; but it would be quite a stretch to say that it was the first time I'd been left awestruck in your presence. Countless performances, club shows; Raves are my favorite, favorite thing--second to the feel, and sound of bass. “Synesthesia”, would be the vocabulary word that explained a lifelong fascination with laser lights and deep bass; in ten years of hugging subwoofers and losing myself in the drop wondering my early adulthood mantra “Why am I like this?” almost constantly, it never mattered more to me than it has now. I recall a time where I referred to Skrillex as my spirit animal--still true, I suppose, although considering the fact I've consciously separated the Skrillex of things from the Sonny Moore of it all. One in the same, or, two separate parts of a whole--I can undeniably say all my unconventional, unconditional “I love you, I love you, I love you's”, in the everything that you are. ‘In love', would be an understatement--though which statement to actually make, i'm unsure of. I'm unsure of a lot of things, really; I've made many honest (and dishonest mistakes) in this lifetime--walking away from you, one of them. But, I can't change that, anything about who I am--or anything about the world the way it is, for I am only one--and too small, too weak, and too tired. My soul wishes for the freedom that death will bring--and so, I must let it...as its simply much too hard to live moving forward with such a badly broken spirit. I want you to understand that it is not your fault; It's nothing to do with you, or anything that you've done--the way that I love is uncontainable, once the match has been lit. I apologize again that you've become a victim in the energy field that becomes somewhat of a vortex, once activated. I didn't mean to fall in love with you--I don't know really how it happened, it just did. Maybe you don't remember me. Maybe you do. It doesn't really matter now, I just want you to know that me leaving this life is no fault of yours. I love you wholeheartedly--wholeheartedly, too, I love myself--though, seemingly only from the inside-out; there's nothing I can do about the outer shell I've been trapped in all these years. This is my body; something I would neither burden nor embarrass you with. Apologies, and all my love to you. There's nothing I want for you more than to live a happy, healthy, fulfilling life--I hope that you and those surrounding you are always, always living in peace, with joy and love--without worry, or burden, or stress; in honesty, these arre my wishes for anyone on this planet..as my love for humanity itself has only seemed to quantify, as I near the end of my life. I love, love; sometimes, I believe that I *am* love, as are any of us--but as I draw nearer to the light, it becomes harder and harder for me to believe that anything else matters, or has ever mattered, more than love. I love you. It just may be that i'm the world's biggest Skrillex fan--but to look beyond the cloak of stardom has left me longing for the embodiment of a memorable, familiar soul: The you. The person, and being that actually is; which is to say--as I would for any of my closest friends--I'd go to hell-and-back for you, give my last for you, do anything to protect you--*you*, the person; wanting and needing, expecting nothing in the world--because I cannot see a world without you in it. I'm sorry again, for any negativity. I meant to leave you behind at least, something beautiful, in exchange for all the years and moment's i've experienced through your art--but as I've mentioned before, I am trapped within myself. Symphonies unsung, melodies unwritten--because I've not what it takes to make it. I won't depart without admitting I tried, Music is my all, my everything, my guiding light--so at least in going home, I know there will always, always be the World of Sound--perhaps Heaven in the place where I can live there. I don't know what else to say. You're one of the most beautiful people i've ever seen, from the inside out--before I saw you, I heard you; before I could hear you, you were felt. I will always love you...nothing much else can matter, except that you know that. I'll never be able to erase it from my mind, never be able to forget, or look past it. I may even never understand why. Ancient Egyptian knowledge, or whatever—is the thing it seems they were trying to convey. By they, I only mean—whoever it is that wanted to hurt me. From the men shouting “kill yourself” outside my window— To the flocks of gorgeous, perfect women with perfect waists, perfect fashion, perfect faces—flaunting and floating before me, taunting me, pointing and laughing—rolling eyes, and flipping hair— and giving looks that say “I know you wish you looked as good as me.” I do. I do wish that. I wish more than anything to be beautiful. But...I keep eating. My body is hideous. I hate everything about it. I could try harder, but even that hurts. Everything hurts. Especially my heart. Why was I not more panicked, that after such a phenomenon such as that, cast by shadows against my tent—that the zipper of the door began to move slowly, from one side to another. Perhaps, I wanted the company. Maybe I needed it. What I didn't need, was more excruciating pain. No one's fault, I guess—someone wants me dead. At this point, I think me, the most. I'll never forget that face. The shocker. “Why is Skrillex in my tent?” The looming question. A question I hadn't even the time to ask, before blurting out “Are you okay?!” He froze, I froze. I guess that's where my Skrillex and my Sonny collided, as my soul began the process of separating the music I adored, and the person who made it. I will never forget his eyes. Fear. I scared him. He scared me. He scarred me. Maybe it wasn't him. I know that it *was* in fact Sonny himself (the face is unmistakable, those eyes)—but perhaps he was put up to it. Paid, for the task. Maybe my deer-in-the-headlights makes it so that he is the hunter—? How could he have missed his shot? How could I have missed mine. I've fallen in love with a celebrity. What medicine cures that? What medicine cures suicide? None I've taken, really—maybe Acid. Now, I can't seem to separate myself from Skrillex—or from Sonny—or from figuring out the two, or one in the same— or from figuring out myself, in that we are one in the same. I love him. Like a stupid teenager loves her favorite idol. Yeah, it's exactly like that, except worse—I'm a grown woman, a failure—whose aspirations and admirations are grandiose, and dillusional. Now I'm even more delusional. I thought, for a moment that Sonny might be in love with me. In honesty? Sometimes I still think that. I actually still believe that. So why this approach? I'm partially convinced he was paid to ‘finish the job', so to speak. I was already suicidal, and, fresh out of the hospital on the attempt to end my life that failed, again. So this would do it—make me hope and believe I could be something, someone, anyone—that I could be anything—even a superstar DJ-turned-future President. I'm a fucking joke. Someone, who could have anyone—in love with me? Maybe this is why people sneak into tents at music festivals: They don't love you— They just want to fuck. DAY 1: MAY 1ST, 2020; If I am offered dinner, will eat--but if not, will continue forward. Will set an alarm for 3:30 AM once roommate has gone to bed to check for his keys. Everyone gets their own suicide letter. Mom Dad Bearr Annie Yesenia Sonny (just leave it to Annie w/ his rock && burn book) Let everybody know it's not their fault. Reasons: 1. Fat 2. Ugly 3. Black 4. Poor 5. Unsuccessful 6. Friendless 7. No Charisma 8. Single I don't know why I numbered them. Do you really need more than one reason to kill yourself? (no.) I believe i”ve started the fast that I was asked. Be it that I have, the date is May 1st, 2020--however, I've been wondering if my roommate leaves the keys to his car in an accessible place; I'm kind of hoping so. I'm already craving to eat, and the first 24 hours have yet to pass. Again, i'm always given the open to keep this date and continue forward, so long that I eat before midnight--however, nothing seems like the right answer; The matter of fasting has become a damned-if-I-do, damned-if-I-don't matter...it seems that everything I do is ‘wrong', though right-and-wrong are subjective, and multidimensionally, objective, even. I probably might have been dead by now, if my car battery hadn't died...it seems like the easiest and least painful way; something easy and quiet. I've thought about sharpening a knife, just to cut and let [myself] bleed out at the wrist--but then, I fear that I may panic and that my mind would fight to survive. I've thought about hanging from one of my favorite trees-- but haven't the money left to buy any rope--which, perhaps, I could steal--but to steal enough rope to hang myself with on foot? A tricky task, to say the least. So, really, some of me is hoping my roommate leaves his keys out. At first, the thought of committing my suicide here was unsettling. My roommate, Satan's personal favorite vehicle and overall negative void of a ‘person' (or vampire, honestly), is a drama Queen--he needs not only conflict and drama to survive, but fiends for it; something in me had somehow become too proud to give him something to girlishly blabber about with his narcissistic, simple friends--I can already hear the repetitive exclamations of “horror” that would more-than-likely delight him as he recounts the story of finding my body, over-and-over...at first it rather haunted me, and now i've come to peace with--bargaining that having him find my body would be something of a statement, which wordlessly reads “sticks and stones may break my bones but words got up and killed me.” Words. Little words. Big Words. Actions. Gestures. If it's negative, I can feel it in my body, before it even happens; If it's positive, it can leave me radiating for days on end, and without a care. My “living situation” has been nothing more than a prolonging of my already disastrously failed and predominately miserable life. A mentally-ill and often psychotic mother, followed by a too- young marriage to a dynamically similar person, has left me up Shit's creek with no boat; I'm pushing 30 with no significant other, and no significance at all. There are generations of perfect people, fresh out of high school--who can and will do everything I ever thought possible or imaginable, better than me. And it's my fault. NO ENTRY ON DAY 2. Gave Myself A “Skrillex” haircut. Wow. Fuck my life. DAY 3: The fast will end today, more than likely. I am overwhelmed with grief, at loss for motivation, and struggling to believe there is any positive outcome to anything I do. I'm already getting headaches, and acute hunger pains--usually these things don't happen until well after the third day. I suppose my body is telli

united states god love jesus christ music women american fear time california live money black world president success social media trust english google babies hollywood starting apple spirit man los angeles technology lost body prayer las vegas media voice future space hell running energy real land living speaking sound west kingdom truth building practice walk thinking miami happiness dj chinese gold masters christianity depression government reading teaching heart fighting japanese turning elon musk devil spanish moon dance dc left dna holy drive leaving therapy satan write losing darkness mom open drop night fake twitch dive utah shame dead strange gods alive 3d ring aliens started poor toxic asian watching memories testing code protect dragon divine mexican monster sun nazis fall in love disasters run drugs attention reflecting balancing tree lack created witness beyonce planet stuck rain alaska standing oprah winfrey captain ocean curse mama hurt enemy sick childhood empathy danger birds praying heard apologies tough kiss boom beatles forgive shoes ugly eagles cops act protecting dancing debt origins cloud promises paradise flight fasting front lights nevada guilt monsters sing driven worse demons panic bills shit wood tiger ucla singing hang shooting michael jackson believing paying sitting suck native americans fill loneliness traditional wear honestly throw passing pokemon gotta paid ninjas silent worlds pack smoke library minds gps diving judas curiosity aftermath fuel b2b fuck intention emotion waste window rock and roll betrayal amen countdown died lonely bass deeper underground jungle grave releasing ascension bet expert mike tyson beating solid hates smell kim kardashian marijuana echo limited hiding methods ravens hanging crying superstar plans bitch leap baptist poison multiverse envy greed found zen sciences rivers paint joyful closed oasis coast shut purple absolute sad bots grass bought goddess aligning judging djs rape rocket trapped mainstream glow throwing mantra sober felt walks lizzo gov quien hawks thank god edm meditate shades nonsense decoding nah silly shorts mad singles armor robin williams omg billie eilish fin ignite lied ludwig van beethoven ducks yang george lucas lemon bus ranked ruined boosting decided makers lala cousin bare surf alarm myspace martyrs acid thc shrek touring bells bro matt damon whitney houston toxicity laying anarchy men in black closure goodnight watched djing makes rick and morty pit wandering burning man i love cigarettes blackrock upside heavens pyramid debating experimental collisions burnt tsa white supremacy malibu lay imperfection tied stunning barely bag mandarin bury bleeding sala goin betrayed two weeks ay glitch rocking lava cries abandonment tasty granny laid restless cree odd learned wet unreal crows likeness hershey good friends rotten pikachu drifting attached rewind philosophical yin blanket pin clique diplo robins chicken soup lucid sticks and stones unmasked kidd whoop northern lights emp dubstep lax auntie downside threaten attracted black magic skrillex mouths of course live nation vips trippin sleepless fins edc insomniacs carbohydrates delusions oh god manic bruh one world imitate unreleased silos choking time capsules energi aw charmed white supremacists chance the rapper pressed repression eskimos sweater fast forward electronic music somethings compression stocking delighted spirit animals raves watchful fetal gestures flashing synchronicities swallowed breadcrumbs code switching father time foxy rebuilt staple truth hurts ancient egyptians admiration lunacy randomly voiceless pave suess humpty dumpty save the date panicking killin deities kandi unsuccessful sparrows shhhh huevos daw ableton cherished grand prize dillon francis epitome laced synesthesia droughts time money butters reawakening rin supa piecing unexplainable lackey chainsaws repeats effing uhhh that guy blindly flatten white lights news channel excision medicine man will you givin stifle deafening chava symphonies festival season whispered skyy aight coughs big words sunn red blue phone home savin everything everything callous jungle fever jamies uuml alternately chala where do we go tin roof bangarang in la sprites dissociative hunny inwardly gasping hey dude scary monsters translucent this guy aloft no sympathy wonderous adventure club plain jane plur rezz sleepin losin xylophone female dj big drop liquidate electric daisy carnival romantically lost lands god on inciting incident central washington bloo disintegrate blindfolds hobo johnson ous windblown alerted all seeing eye iridescence abolishment owsla chiodos taunted look at drapery blue red lizzard too deep from first to last google university josh pan matt maeson steve erwin abbot kinney grand delusion wubs phoenixx rocket summer i died christ not levitated respect it ease my mind brostep sonny moore bass canyon allison wonderland dupstep

Aftermath. (Unreleased) Sunnï Blū, -the kidd. {THE TIME CAPSULE}

Gerald’s World.

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 15, 2023 4:55

this is a cringeworthy read, i'm sure of it. {THE TIME CAPSULE] Here lies everything I won't delete, but wouldn't dare to publish (as of yet), and therefore banish to the land and/or realm of impossibility, where everything entirely consists of unimaginable, unfathomable, inconceivable, never-ever-happened ( or will) unexistence. Nothing Here Exists. Amen. (I didn't write this.) The Colenel's Jounal. “Would he be mad reading this shit? “ I mean. I have to step back at this point and admit to reading this shit to myself at this point, that... I stumbled upon an interview with none other than The Great Mike Tyson--who--if coincidences actually existed--coincidentally dated my mother oh-way-back-when. I remember the shenanigans she went through to get him to sign a pair of boxing gloves for an auction she hosted, once, when I was younger. For that, I've always gotten a little chuckle, whenever I've randomly ended up watching something. Dude is funny. As for other dude? I'm so lost. It's almost like Insomniac (or whoever) can read my thoughts--or at the very least, my text messages. It's been a year of strangeness, and I'm now more lost than found. Why is Pasqualle so strangely familiar? What is this connection, i'm missing? Who am I, if not S U P A C R E E? I'm aware of my cosmic insignificance, my societal displacement. I am nothing useful that I know of, but it seems so that I've been being followed. So maybe he's not a white supremacist, after all...he seems to love as much as I do--if not more. So, that one's my fault, as everything is. I wonder if the window of opportunity has truly closed. I wonder what to make of all this, at all. I'm so, so confused, and so lost, and so… ...confused... First, I levitated. Still can't get over that (literally) Then....everything else. Literally everything else. From playing drums at Ruskos set, to weirdly making my way to Excision, just “following a vibe”--my failed suicide attempt, and running away to Bass Canyon where, everything in my reality officially shattered. Now, here I am...about to be homeless, jobless, and lost in love. I can't shake it off anymore, I can't let it go. My brain's wrapped around all of it, all the time. Prayers, Mantras, Methods. I'm driving myself crazy trying to wish away the pain. I need to be...need to be… … Needed. Bearr needs me. Sometimes, in all the pain--I fail to see that. But he does--and if I can't make it in show business...how are we meant to survive? There's no room for depression and poverty in motherhood. After losing the twins...I just can't. I can't be sad and parent at the same time. And, maybe that makes me weak. Maybe it makes me stupid. Maybe I've just had enough. But there's nothing I wouldn't give just to know that there's love, somewhere out there for me. Is it selfish that that's all I want? I think i'm a good person, but maybe i'm wrong. I can account for hundreds of premonitions, predictions, visions--outstanding sensitivity to energy...but how could I misread, and misjudge, so easily? Something inside me never really made it out of that tent. Then, going back--maybe it was all of me, that never made it out of that ambulance. Am I just the special kid in class--and it's obvious I've been left behind? When I hear myself speak aloudt, I wonder if I am retarded. I feel other people also wonder. Either way, how would anyone have known about my musical history so broadly, as it's been displayed? There's no going back from it. I can't go back to being a regular “Skrillex” fan. It's almost like...almost like I can't go back at all. And I miss that, a lot--just being able to be honest about what my taste in music is, who my favorite musician is…. I tense up when I hear the word “Skrillex”. In good company, I can shrug it off, I guess…. But on any regular day, it still feels deep. It doesn't leave my mind, ever. I can pretend to move on, but I can't unlove. I can't unlove. So, i'm two-for-two...three-for-three, if you count Josh Pan's video, where his face swells up and he turns into a reptile… I remember waking up for work with swollen eyes, and bulging, puffy skin...the way the spiral to insanity began...not with suicide, at all--at least, in the traditional sense. I was working 80 hours a week. I needed it--I needed out of my marriage. Pasqualle's sweater Sonny's Sweater, now falling apart--because, yes--I've worn it every day for nearly a year. A red, white, and blue blanket, reminding me of my presidential ambitions--which have since, not faded...but become realistically reflected with this sense that, I have much to fulfill between now-and-never. I'll only run for President if I can afford it. I can only afford it if I am successful in music. I found it heartwarming that Mike Tyson is so enamoured by the culture. To see him swell with joy, such as I have, upon discovering the world of raves. Apparently, there will be some kind of permanent Oasis, someday...I hope I live to see it. Better yet, I hope I live to play there. I want my chance on all the stages, as selfish as it may seem. To earn a place behind the decks, an unrealized dream. But, can I find it to become all that it takes? To read and move a room, to create and connect with people, live onstage. To inspire a crowd--telling a story with music. To give love, the best way that I can. I miss myself...but no I don't. I do miss never having to worry about whether I was too fat to be found attractive by someone I vehemently admire--but never thought about sexually, in all of the years i've loved watching him live. But, its a vibe. Much ado about Elon Musk. I'm not smart enough to become a rocket scientist--and it's too late for me to become an astronaut, as I once dreamed...but there's something in the space above us all, that seems to connect the space between us all--and it's almost as is the walls are caving in. Time and space continues to collapse upon itself. I might be broken forever...but then, I always was. Who'd have thought the Grand Prize for your third suicide attempt is a Skrillex? I'm cursed, in the way that...it won't fall off. My brain won't un-Sonny itself. I'm on default to give a fuck now, and there's no turning back. I guess this is what I get for hating on *fangirls*...now i am one. Problem is, I'm a lot less cute. How often does shit like this happen? There's hypnosis through music--and then there's losing your entire soul to something outside of yourself. Why and how am I so out of place, in this world? ‘You're too good for this world.' Nothing's been forgotten, it's just getting more suppressed. I can pretend to move on, but I won't. I just found the Holy Mecca of research for my weird, invasive project. Apparently DeadMau5 had some kind of comedy show, or something--called “coffee run” It seems to be about...2014, but haven't bothered to check yet--I'm sure, though that this predates the infamous ‘fued'. Blah blah blah--i'm learning too much about these people. People. Real people. ...was interrupted to watch the new episode of Rick and Morty; Lucky me. One half-hour and several belly-rolling laughs later, I'm back...with slightly more self confidence that, if The Heavens grant me whatever kind of combination of confidence and focus that it will take to bring the Festival Saga If nobody's sampled this video, I've stumbled upon a literal goldmine. Life imitates art--and music imitates music. “I love it when it's super sweaty.” (How do I resonate with this so well?) “ A Los Angeles Real Estate Guy In Torono”, says Dillon. “Yeah, there's a few of those.”, Joel recants, stoically. Now i'm watching people who never mattered on YouTube, in a finally “Sonny says…” If i can ever make my brain learn the magic that makes something like Ableton somehow turn into a banger. “Does he drive?!” I've wondered this myself. “I don't think he does.” I knew it. Dillon Francis' awkwardness is reminiscent of mine...again, here I am wondering...who I might be if I were born a white male--if nothing was changed, but the body. CRUSTPUNKS. How did I get here? Oh, yeah. I specifically opened an incognito window to...fuck it. I know what I'm here for. The thing is, I don't know what i'm blessed with. I don't know that i'm talented… It could all just be a Grand Delusion… Do I hate myself enough to try this? A movie where the entirety of the fabric of [my] universe is music, and the musicians that make it. A universe that already existed in the Multiverse of Rick and Morty, since it's strange inception into my being. Wait, how the fuck did I get here? I was already on a writing tangent Probably--I hate enough to “ i get to go home--not tomorrow, but the next day” This experience is becoming so humanizing. It is a job, this music shit--Touring takes you everywhere but home. What the fuck is ‘home?' Perhaps I am meant for this shit, after all. I don't have a home, anyway. I also don't have any music under my belt, but--with any luck, I can pump out the LP I promised my twins. Today Marks 5 years since Skyy passed away. May 23rd will be 2 years, since Phoenixx left us. It's not a good time of year, for grief. With no friends I can trust (Annie's Toxicity is again rearing its head), no family that loves me the way a family should...I find myself completely isolating from what Love is, almost forgetting what it might have felt like. “How often are you home?” “KAAAAHHHHHHHHHN” If i'm ever lucky enough to learn how to make Dupstep--that deserves to go before a fucking deadly drop. I've officially seen Skrillex more times in person than ever on video--which disincluded, of course, the tent incident--something I'm realizing that if I'm unable to catch up with myself in time, I'll have to live with forever. Can I answer my own prayers? At this point, i've given up any expectation of what it might be like to achieved enough to earn any kind of place in that world *their* world... 5/6/2020 Life is unfair sometimes. Like--do I want tacos, or divine inspiration? Do I put off fasting for yet another day, just for the temporary comfort and satisfaction of eating? Does limiting my eating to once every 24-hour-or-less suffice as enough of a self-sacrifice, that my prayers might be answered? I highly doubt that it is, but still--I often ride the line between just allowing myself to feel good when I can (and food does, make me feel so....so good) and remaining steady in my fasting. Then, it has been over 6 months of almost constant fasting and praying, all over someone I haven't properly met--all over myself. Because, the longer I stay in this mindset--the clearer it becomes that it is all the same. At the core, there's only really one thing in existence. Skyy will have passed away 5 years ago tomorrow. To think, I should have had 5-year-old twins. They would have been so beautiful; I've never quite imagined them so, umti now. I miss my babies so much. Will I ever be okay again? I thought to record a song for Skyy, but it would never be ready by tomorrow, in the perfect way that I would want it to be. I don't want to put out anything less than the best. I'm being as patient as I possibly can with teaching myself--but grow frustrated in my limitations. The only thing standing between me, and the tools I need to make the music I have...is me. (Really, it's money.) Lack of money is keeping me from being unstoppable. With unlimited money, I'd have a home--I could fully pay all 4-years of my tuition at UCLA….ny dream school. I'd study music, anthropology, astrology….maybe even engineering. I can't make myself prettier--but I can make myself smarter. Google University just isn't cutting it. I want to make a difference in the world by any means, and i'm trapped behind the gate of poverty. I just want a closet full of harem pants, chuck taylors, and T-shirts with stuff I like on them. I just want to wear my kandi every day. I just want to be behind the decks atop the stages of my favorite places… I want to be someone's favorite DJ. I want to be one of my favorite DJ's favorite DJ I, I, I… How selfish. What does the world need? Less people. Well, i'm honestly one-less, I guess, if I can;t make it in music, in art. If I can't make a decent living just by being myself...i'm not meant to live at all. That much is true--no life worth living includes waking up every day to go to a job I hate, that barely pays my bills. No life is worth living that Something strange happens to me when my favorite people go ‘live' on instagram Social Media, a young demon with whom I constantly evade, when I am not forcibly fighting to fit the status quo (which, I cannot.) Watching my social media right now is like the digital equivalent of “You can't sit with us.” I've grown attached to OWSLA like some sort of distant, imaginary family--only, I know this is something I've just embedded into my mind--the ultimate wishful thinking. Everything I do seems fragile, as if the grid I had discovered not only exists in the outer world, but also my inner--that everything I do, think, say, sing, speak makes a difference in what will happen moving forward. Reawakening my center has been difficult, saying the very least--I am almost paralyzed by negativity--made catatonic through senses with which I cannot control; My ‘home' life has become a hell where i'll-spirits and pitiful thoughts are cast about me--in reality, I have no home. In truth, I'm unsure that I have any purpose, either. It's all been bothering me… Now it's something that just hurts, like everything else. Add to the pain, subtract from willingness to live. Add to the trauma, subtract from the motivation to succeed. How much of my fault is this? Who did it? What is it for? Amongst the most otherworldly of theories, the possibility that extraterrestrials had actual involvement in removing Sonny from wherever he was supposed to be (Burning Man, albeit) and placing him where I was. I've wondered how else the dancing shadows cast against the canvas of the tent were so perfectly made-- ancient egyptian prophecies foretold as a light show, in the moments leading up to the one where the entirety of my being was shifted, in an instant. I dreamed of a B2B with Skrillex, and instead got a face-to-face with Sonny Moore. One, apparently, does not quite equal the other. Eight (or so) months later, and I've filtered through all the stages of grief--for all of the ways I had to lose him--as much as one could be lost, without actually dying. But, perhaps I am dead. My soul and spirit at least, are trapped, and tainted torturously from all I've come to gather. Running into the night, like a bat fresh out of hell, away from the visions I was forced to have from our exchange-- I can only imagine, had I acted any differently and stayed, rather than fled what else I may have seen. In only the few short moments we shared together...I was able to see more of his life than for anyone I've ever ‘seen' for, besides myself. To have, after only a few moments--seen both backwards into his past--and forwards into a seemingly shared future of some sort. I don't know what else to call this creepy psychic shit, other than “seeing”. To even call myself a “seer” would be a heavy title, I'd be too uncomfortable to claim. Still, vivid memories of the dude's past--and chilling premonitions of the future, have left me disgustingly sick with a concern that wholly did not exist, beforehand. But, when faced with the question: “What would it be like to actually lose him?” I fucking lost it. I've never taken well to celebrity deaths--perhaps, overly sensitive in ways that suite absolutely nobody--I just so happen to have fallen apart numerous times, upon learning of the passing of those i've long cherished. I collapsed fully at Michael Jackson's passing, scrolling through the African TV channels in disbelief, as I desperately searched for a News Channel in English to confirm that it was indeed, true. This was, of course, a couple years after I cried for hours with Back to Black on repeat in the wake of Amy Winehouses' death--going even further back, I can recall arguing with a classmate that Steve Erwin, another hero, was brave--rather than ‘stupid', and undeserving of his untimeley demise. A special place lies in my heart for the day I remember losing Robin Williams-- a weird memory which collides in the now, with my affinity for Skrillex music and the strange outer connectivity my emotions seem to have in the passing of those I wholeheartedly admire; I've shed tears for Whitney Houston, Prince--I've shed tears for all of them. But none so much as for Skrillex, who is [surprisingly] still alive… And I'm mad about it. I'm mad about it, because I was [partially] happy in my place, as a fan. I wasn't even the best fan, or the biggest fan (metaphorically speaking--physically, though--I probably hold a record of some sort.) I wasn't following his social media--I wasn't following his anything, honestly. I was just crossing my fingers that with every lineup released, I might find the name “Skrillex” plastered to the top of it, or standing out broadly against the other ‘S' names, if alphabetically presented. I'm mad about it, because I hate myself. I've been hating myself my entire life. But i've never hated that I loved Skrillex--in fact, I've always been quite proud, having watched the project skyrocket, as EDM penetrated pop-culture in the years following my college endeavors. Never really thought to think that at any point, we might be equals. We're not--outwardly, anyway. Inwardly, though? Fuck me. It's like I'm bound to it by the roots of the Tree of Life. Like something in my DNA was activated by an overabundance of Skrillex. I've undoubtedly, and by far crossed the threshold of having listened to 10,000 Hours of Skrillex, guaranteed. No calculations needed. Still, there are perhaps millions of others who share the same affinity--and at least a few thousands who are more outwardly obsessive than in. It works, when I need to know something I'd rather just ask Sonny myself, but can't--there's always a kid in the fan pool who has been quick to find whatever information I'm looking for, long, long before I've come to look for it. Poor guy. For almost an entire year, that's all I've really been able to think. ‘Poor guy.' Because, if the roles were reversed--and for whatever reason I decided to make my way into someone's tent at a music festival (I wouldn't) and I scared them into a shock, resulting in them fleeing away from me--I'd feel like shit. And, if I had been touring my entire life and watched the culture grow and morph into the nearly unmanageable able monster it has become--i'd feel like shit. If I had to watch an ambulance cart away someone in the crowd during one of my sets, I'd feel like shit. If I had to do a live set while I felt like shit, I'd feel like shit. and ...if some random fan fell head over heels in love with me, simply because I crawled into her tent, or made really good music, or made her feel some kind of way… I'd feel like shit. And that shit probably happens all the time. It's been 10 long years for me, with Skrillex-- but I can't imagine how long the last 10 years have been, as Skrillex. Now I think about all the shit DJs go through, being DJs….what's more, I've had to give in-depth thought to what it means to be a celebrity at all--what it might be like to have someone grow an obsession over you--unprovokingly. Although my ‘obsession' for this particular person can't technically be considered ‘unprovoked' (I was minding my own business, after all--and Skrillex was not on the lineup.) I can't help but feel for those in the limelight whose charisma and talent combined attract every type of creeper imaginable. I'm just the kind of creeper that wants to make music; any previous searches as an attempt to ‘get to know' Skrillex, previous to last August, originated in attempting to comprehend how to create such organic sounds--exploring and studying how intricately layered and carefully arranged each of my favorite sounds and songs were made. Piecing together how exactly an artist like such, had become as such. Now, i'm just entangled in self-doubt, as it seems the entire next generation is equipped with whatever skillset it takes to become an electronic musician. Self-doubt, as I fear that my body weight intimidated him as much as his presence intimidated me. Again: All me. All bad. I've nowhere to turn to to unleash this shit--it has to be a secret-- and even letting it slip to Annie in the isolation of the aftermath has felt like a mistake, since I allowed it to happen. Can I keep a secret? Ha. There are things that only I know, certainly. The premonition I did subtly speak of, I refused to unearth in detail, even to Annie. The other visions I was made to have, still my own secret; I've begun to wonder if, upon meeting Sonny, I would keep it to myself; I suppose that would depend on nature and context. But, I think about it every day. It is my first thought upon waking up, my final thought before coming to rest--it has permeated into the only dreams I ever have anymore--crowds my semi-waking thoughts as I toss-and-turn throughout the night; the amount of energy exchanged, the amount of concern that consumes me....lets me know that it is all apart of something far beyond my comprehension, far beyond my senses...far beyond any understanding of the universe that I may have. And, it hurts. As bad as it is for me, it's probably worse for him--IF he remembers any of it. Then, probably a seasoned drinker (lol, “probably”) There's a good chance that, well-- he does remember. Oh God no. If I could motion to be erased, I would. I've been trying to erase myself for the better part of a year, including and certainly not limited to August 4th--an attempt I can stand to think I had not fully recovered from by the time it all happened. What the fuck did happen? Though it can't be denied that each of us possesses some kind of magic--the origins of mine can be traced back, at least on one side. Powers I was ‘born with', as told by my father--something I only believed until I was old enough that it didn't make sense--and something I was forced to recognize once I was old enough that it did. I want to know what exactly it is that ties us... Where this love--which is what it is, undeniably-- originates. I've spent the better part of the last year praying and meditating, and attempting to loosen the knots in my stomach enough to self-soothe enough to settle that, at worst-- Sonny was just being a pretty white boy, looking for a good time--and I just became a victim by knowing how to have one. Alternately--how fuck fuck would he even know I exist? As i've stated, I was the epitome of a silent Skrillex fan, prior to all these spectacular occurrences. I may have, at some point online--said something about Skrillex being my Spirit Animal… (still true) But can't imagine what else might have been garnered in my attainable, tangible history, which would alert him of my existence at all. Then, with all the money in the world, you truly can do anything… And that's what I hate in all this. Him--having all the money in the world, and me, having none… The very thing that separates us from settlement, myself from closure. Really, the only thing I want. Closure. ‘I got love, fuck your money.' Sonny can be anyone--he's earned that right. He can be with anyone--deservingly so. I want for him the very best--and, knowing that I am not (physically, anyway) am dismissive of any judgement cast. I wouldn't want me, either--looks matter, I know. I just want to know what he means to me--in this lifetime, in this realm, in this reality. I didn't have to be moved from where I was to be inspired by him--I just always was. I didn't have to think about being attracted to him--I just always was. I didn't have to think about being connected through the music--I just always was. And it all came crashing down in a tent, at the bottom of the rabbit hole--where I lost my mind--after having already lost my soul, to something beyond the senses, long ago. I committed wholly and permanently to making music when Phoneixx died, almost 2 years ago. The point was never to sound like Skrillex, but rather to be like Skrillex, as an artist--but, after much speculative examination--I guess, I always was. I lost myself in the early days of Myspace. From First To Last rang through the hallways of my middle school's corridors. Chiodos carried me through the days of wrist-cutting and air-dust huffing, through the days of binging-and-purging, wishing I was prettier--and in the height of all that is the drama of living in my very own Teenaged Wasteland… The Rocket Summer was handed to me by the hands of an angel, as I transitioned out of awkward adolescent depression and into an almost-well-adjusted life at a performing arts school, as an aspiring musician, singer, dancer and storyteller… The dream that carried me out of Utah, and into the Heart of Hollywood at the age of 16… The dream I thought died, long ago. When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go? Billie Ellish's spirit collided with mine, as the first time I heard her voice, I shattered inwardly, and shivered in the resonance that is the understanding of pain, born undoubtedly in love; I shuddered to think that someone so young could feel so devoid of the willingness to live, to move onward. My response upon first experiencing her music, of course, a genuine “...Is she ok?” Three little words. I tend to really mean them, any time I ask. “Are you OK?!” I blurted, as my entire self exploded into shock, as I immediately recognized the face I've known for years--and looked through the widened eyes of one so now devastatingly human--to something inside of myself. Something about my voice shifted him; He became a mirror for all my pain, all my doubt--all the shame I have, for all that I am-- my demons came straight to the surface. Voiceless, now, and shielded in the fetal position, we faced each other silently. 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm Sorry.', I thought loudly, as I lay panicking. I stared down into my chest, ashamed to be anything but invisible, thoughts racing. I dare not lift my head to look at him. My heart pounded, as I lay screaming silent apologies for my appearance--for my very presence, for my own existence. I couldn't process his presence in my reality. Choking back tears, I tried not even to so much as breathe, as I silently apologized for being born--and though I wanted nothing more than to reach out to hold him, I lay all-but-lifelessly--wondering what went so wrong that he would seek to find me. The familiar smell of liquor permeated the air, as my heart sank, throbbing as it pounded...I know an alcoholic, when I smell one. I did actually wonder if he was okay....(and I've been wondering daily, ever since.) But clearly, he wasn't okay. Clearly, I wasn't. Clearly, nobody's ok. He slipped his praying hands between my thighs, as I died inside--and all my outer senses blended to become all, and nothing at once, again. Exit Skrillex, Enter Sonny. How does a mere peasant earn a spot in the company of the Highest Priest? I've not bargained with the Devil, but begged the Heavens that my life would end before his...the First Fast emerged as a direct result of self-sacrifice; To serve as a protection against misjudgement--to realign my soul with it's true intensive purpose--in hopes that my body would shrink to form something suitable. The memory of his hands between my thighs, a haunting reminder that--I just may be too big for him… The reality is...of all that I am, and all that I have, and all that I wish to be...it just may be that--he's too big for me… metaphorically speaking. I'll have to become a damn-near Superstar, just to get to know the people--that know the people--that know the people, that know people who can connect me to Sonny, on any level. I'll have to get in line behind millions of other hopeful DJ's, producers, singers, dancers, songwriters--hundreds of thousands of entertainers who might kill-or-die to get to know Skrillex in any way-shape-or form. Romantically, I'd be competing against at least a million perfect-bodied beauty-queen fangirls who would do anything--and I mean anything--for their shot at Skrillex. The truth is, I'm not trying to get to know Skrillex; The truth is, i'd rather know Sonny. (Whatever that's supposed to mean, right?) I don't question at all our potential compatibility; there's no doubt in my mind that there's some chemistry between us--be it of ancient origin, an extra terrestrial genetic code, or otherwise...but I'd bet any money I actually had, that someone as highly regarded as Skrillex would be ridiculed, trolled, and tremendously hated by many, many fans--for associating with someone like me. I don't even know if it's like that--but, again--crawling into someone's tent is...kind of intimate. What in Heavens would one want with me, when he could have perfection-- Absolute perfection? I kind of get it. I'm used to being fetishised. I've always been the black girl who liked white guys--I've lead a life that's made it easy to learn that Jungle Fever is often taboo among the White Caucasion men who find black women attractive enough to fuck--but would never want to “date” us, or bring us home. I've learned that--at the end of the day-- most white guys, want white kids--even if they like to fuck black girls. Then, there's the added bonus of some genetic flaw which has allowed my body to at one point, have ballooned up to 380 pounds-- a body which, even after a 200+ pound weight loss, would disgust anyone with eyes, in what most would consider “cute rave attire”. And, although shrinking from a size 28 to a size 10 is somewhat of a ‘grand' achievement, I look like an asymmetrical potato sack with my clothes off. If there's anything I know about men--and especially the affluent ones--they love to have trophies to showcase. I've yet to see a body like mine on the red carpet, or as arm candy--or as the leading lady, anywhere. No, there's no such thing as a fat Cinderella. Still, he's one of the most handsome creatures i've ever seen-- undoubtedly one of the most beautiful creatures on this planet. I will continue to love what I know of him wholly and unconditionally. On my best days, I even hope to live long enough, and well enough to have the honor of properly meeting him. Never could I have the courage to ask him on a date--nor would I subject him to the cruelty of the outer world by alluding to the fact that he may, in fact be someone more important to me, than as just a musician--as with anyone i've ever loved, I only want for him the best. On my worst days, The Devil assures me that it was Annie he was really looking for, who he may have seen me with at the plethora of festivals we attended together last year--or perhaps, even Idania, who was supposed to have been there with me…and it would make sense. The Devil also constantly reminds me of how much prettier they both are than me--and better in every way. But, it was long ago that I came to terms with the fact that anyone who might come to love me--would also love Annie and would love her more thoroughly--her, having the more attractive body and face, being more ideally pretty. Standing next to Annie, I always lose. Even on a good day. All this, I can be sure to cast aside, however--because at the very best--he was looking for me, and everything between then-and-now builds into something of substance or significance… and at worse, my favorite figure in music absolutely hates me, and regrets my existence as much as I do. Either way, Skrillex hits hard any time of the day, any day of the week. And… Either way, Sonny hits home, all day, every day--until I can manage to learn to speak. Eight pages later, and it still hurts. Eight pages, and i'm still mad. I'm still crying. I'm still useless. I'm still stuck. Stuck on stupid. Stuck on Sonny. Stuck on Skrillex. Just… Stuck. And it hurts. 5/5 Another day. Nothing makes me hate myself more than waking up. ‘Don't look at the phone.' instructions, handed to me some time ago by the Divine--since then, I make it a point not to look at my phone, if I can help it, before I've sat up to pray, and meditate. Lately, I've been unable to relax at all enough to focus on a proper meditation, before realizing my actual self-worth (nothing), and falling into the depressive non-motion that has been me. How many evil men will it take being caught in the midst of, will it take for me to realize that I've been allowing myself to painfully absorb their essences, even without a single touch? Just living here alone has set me further back from my goals than I was--then--I'm beginning to feel that my ‘roomate' may have ties to White Supremacy; the evidence does just keep on building. It has occured to me that Jason's warning that Nick may be deep undercover for some Government agency is most likely true. Though I err on the side of not snooping through other peoples' things--I've happened to stumble across indicators which point to the likely case that he is, in fact, hired by the government or some other private entity--probably as part of some secret experiment, assigned to psycologically torture and disable mentally fragile individuals; It seems as though the experiement was designed in order to test morale, will power, self-control, and proper judgement-- tests which I've been concious of, but in the moment have not always cared about passing-or-failing. From the painful assortment of disgusting and obnoxious sounds make throughout the day, torturing me through unpleasant and peace-shattering sounds, left victimized by my synesthesia and recently pinpointed misophonia--or something similar...whatever it is that makes slamming doors, cabinets, and the items crashing to the floor after lazily being thrown across the room methods of torture. To the cavalcade of poisonous, sugary and addicted substances, which only seem to appear or are offered during crucial fasts--or, pushily and passive-aggressively left in my living space without asking whether or not i'd like any. Just left there, to be discovered upon finishing a shower, or returning from a nightly walk. And on days when I am actually hungry, or needing to eat? I am offered nothing. Only when I fast am I ever offered any sustenance. It says almost too much about my roomate as a person--to offer every time, or never at all would be acceptable, and understandable--but to only invite one to eat when one feels so ‘inclined' is beyond cruelty. It's privilege showing itself to be one of the only faces uglier than mine, that i'm aware of. While i've elected to use my headphones as a shield, life's not always easy immersed in a sound bath of isochronic tones and Theta Waves--and though it does excite me to have expanded my music library, with additions and updates I've been longing for ages-- it's almost more stressful to think about the amount of music that I don't have. Songs I would add to my “sets”, if you can call them that. If I can call myself a DJ--if I can call myself a person, anymore. Really, all I am is hurt feelings and trauma wrapped in flesh; I might be less of a person than I ever was, once. Everything costs--whether it be money, the world's currency--or time, the currency of the soul. Torturous is the life of an artist, who cannot herself make ‘art', as she sees fit. Everyone in Hollywood has a screenplay in their back pocket; Everyone in LA has a dream, two-to-three-jobs, and a side hustle--and me? I'm just learning to DJ to self-soothe, having given up hope of ever becoming anything greater than the happiest guest at the rave nearest you. It's harder than it looks….(or, maybe it isn't, and i'm just retarded.) Building a music collection worthy enough to grace the decks in any of my favorite venues, is an arduous task--maybe this is why all the popular DJs are pretty white boys--the proof is in the privilege. Money, money, money...I used to make plenty of it, and was always exhausted--now I make none, and am always exhausted. What's worth what cost? Time = Money. In LA, and in the world. But by anyone's definition--and especially mine--LA is the world. Or, at the very least, sets the tone for the world. Truly, nothing is free. DJing is more expensive than I could have ever imagined--once again, in any direction I turn, there's a ladder to climb. I've not got the time or energy left in my sadly depleting lifesource left to storm gates, crawling over heads and cutting down those in my way. While it's certain that ‘Competitive Greatness' is the key atop the Pyramid of Success, there are 14 other bricks below to lay the foundation of that which one might call success, to be garnered as imagined through the eyes of a man, anyway, who lived in the 1930's. John L. Wooden may have been right--and may still be right--if I were a standard male (we'll leave race out of it, for now…..for now.) Still, i've been using the Pyrimid of Success as a guidepost, in what it is exactly I may have to do, or be, in order to become something. Not even something great, just something. Perhaps, if I can make it to being something, eventually I might become someone. Oh, to be a person would be nice. For now, I'll just have to settle on tricking my useless sack of anatomy into being a DJ. There's nothing outside of it, anymore. Bass Canyon truly was my last rave--not that I enjoyed it, honestly. Though I've attempted to retrain my brain around the trauma which resulted from that weekend, it did serve as a turning point--a sort of going-away party, as I departed from my home as a no-holds-bar Kandi Kid. Happy Graduation, OG Raver! Little did I know that, with the multidimentionality of our universe, I would be presented, through the world of possibility--the ability to at least observe with the naked eye that there lie more beyond the decks-- a space that may have been made for me. I'll never forget the moment I knew I would be a DJ--or at least try, for the life (or the death) of me. Electric Daisy Carnival changed my life--an experience ten years in the making that catapulted me into the depths of my wildest dreams--unbeknownst to me that I hadn't yet the ability to swim, in such that is the tempest of my own subconscious mind. But--that part of this story deserves its own dedicated elaboration; For now, i'll only look back--and realize that it was there that I aligned with my highest self in the truest sense, that, at least then, I actually believed that I could become a top DJ. I've lost the flight to stay afloat in the salty sea that is the millions of other people trying to make it to the mainstages of our favorite places, and begun to sink into the reality of the entertainment industry as a whole...the reality of the world, as a whole anymore. Looking around at the world's top DJs is less encouraging and inspirational than it should be. Nearly every headliner looks like every kid who ever bullied me, every guy who ever turned me down--every kid hosting the party I wasn't invited to. As for the females of the bunch--I find it frustrating that not one yet has been of any color other than yellow--and even then--we all know the world's men love Asian women. While I can admire girls like Rezz and Allison Wonderland--I wonder what kind of career, if any, if either of them were black, or heavyset--or, my losing genetic combination: Both. Would a fat Allison Wonderland have ever made it into the industry? Would a black Rezz ever become a staple in bass music, and rave culture? If Softest. Hard had a pot belly, would she have been discovered? Then, there are up-and-comings beyond my complete comprehension--those who are visually appealing, but musically inept; I'll leave out any names, and still salute them--anyone who can wrap their brain around any standard DAW enough to make an entire song, is absolutely more talented, definitely more intelligent than I am. [I'm not.] But, I can't help but wonder: How easy was it for any of them, being so pretty, to learn to do what they do--just by being kind and asking a friend for help to learn production? In so many years of raving, I've watched beautiful girls get pulled backstage--and even pulled on stage, to connect with the artists and VIPs. I've been brought to tears as I've watched rude girls with porcelain faces caked in makeup be lifted over rails into the promised land, picked to be plucked by just her eyes and smile combined with the perfection of a flat and flawless stomach. Pretty girls always get priority. Me? Well, I get the dead eyes of the drunken DJ, staring down at me through his whiskey glass, as he beckons the stagehands to assist the perfect-bodied princess backstage...but i'm only front-and-center so I can feel the music move, and watch all the energy bounce around, matching the movement of the expert's hands on deck, to the waves of sound colliding with the rest of the world. True, my mind might wander to what wonderful experiences await the perfect princess, as she disappears behind the decks, into a world i've yet to know, but only seen: The life I know exists beyond the rails, beyond the decks...the world I can only wish to build, for myself. Big ugly black girls don't get pulled backstage. Big ugly black girls are token ancillary characters, it seems, in the plot which writes the story of the modern rave. In a sea of new-generation ravers raised by Kim Kardashian and YouTube makeup tutorials--left lost in a torturous chamber of perfection--women who can wear anything, beautifully. Women who get whatever they want, whenever they want--because they know they can; 10's, to my -3. Bottom Line: Looks matter, until all the men in the world go blind. Sad-but-true. I move not to objectify the women whose music and movement through the clearly sexist music entertainment industry. God only knows how hard each of them has worked to earn a spot so highly ranked amongst those to whom we all admire--the legends, the greats. Each woman behind the decks has become a reflection of everything I wish I ever was--but also a painful reminder of everything that I am not. Of every girl i've ever come behind. Perhaps, this is the result of growing up the as the only ‘black girl', in the backwards, racist po-dunk town I was transplanted into: A place where I spent years constantly being told, taught, and trained that it was more admirable to have light skin, blonde hair, blue eyes...then again, The Media has always done a particularly good job at creating and maintaining what the ideal beauty standard should be, or is--and an excellent job of perpetuating stereotypes. People never expect me to sound how I do, or to like what I like--because it's “white people stuff”; and ten years ago when I discovered raving, there wasn't another black girl (or boy!) in sight for miles, at any rave I went to. I was the oddity, the token--the “what the fuck” person, in an already entirely what-the-fuck place. Fast Forward to 2020: My Freshman Year as a DJ. And...as it appears, the world behind the decks is just as non-diverse as the dancefloor was when I first began this escapade through the world of immersive music. Do I want to be the first ethnically-bred Female DJ to reach the top? OF COURSE. Can I? It's not up to me. Now I'm confusededly caught in the web that is rumours circulating of an ongoing race-war, and wondering if I've been left to die smack-dab in the middle of it. Amongst currently living with a white supremacist (or, extremely ignorant and culturally intolerant biggoted racist at the very, very least.), it seems that White Superiority may be a driving theme amongst the Electronic Music Industry--that maybe the world I've rather grown up in, and come to love has more twists, turns, and dark alleys to look through than the obvious ‘secrets' that loom in the world of rave. All seeing is the eye that watches over all. Insomniac's crew is among one of the least racially diverse I've ever seen--if I were Pasqualle, I might think to at least try to make it look as though there were a plethora of ethnic backgrounds who work together to tie the knot holding together the world's biggest metaphorical kandi: Insomniac, the Kingdom of Mainstream rave culture. A global endeavor. I wonder how many i've come to admire--Pasqualle included-- are actually White Supremacists, masquerading in the power of positivity and their corporate capitalism, true beliefs and intentions. My curiosity about the man himself peaked during EDC weekend, after stumbling into sign after sign, symbol after symbol--of something I've aspired [in the past] to commit to, but also am wearlily aware of its adversity towards that of my kind; being firstly female, and secondly partially black. Now, I wonder--am I even allowed to enter into the world beyond the decks--or is that preserved for only women with perfect bodies, fair skin--attractive individuals? Does it belong only to those with money? Is there any possibility that there may be room for someone like me to enter the scene--or may only pretty girls with pretty bodies and pretty hair be allowed in the backstage world? Really, I just want to perform. I miss myself as a dancer, as a musician--as an actor, all together. I still wish I had continued on this path a decade ago, when--though weighing over 300 pounds--my confidence at least existed. Teaching myself to DJ has been one of the hardest things i've ever done; I don't know if I'm retarded, but I'm beginning to consider attempting to see someone for some kind of screening. If Paris Hilton can DJ, why is it so hard for me? If Sonny can dink around on a computer with a blown speaker, call himself ‘Skrillex' and make some of the world's most intricate music since that of Beethoven-- why can't I do the same? What makes the difference in all these YouTube tutorials telling me how to do it--and me actually being able to do it? What is it, that's wrong with my brain? But, it's all i've wanted for over a year--to be a DJ, at least. I've always been a musician; It's just been a stop-and-go, allowing for the rest of what has been my life to pass through between the times I could make music, and couldn't. I wish I had the positive support it takes to have encouraged me forward on the path I was already on, since I was 13--instead, I was told I was too fat (and too black) to succeed in the way I wanted to. 10 Years later and Lizzo is at the top of her game, while I beat myself up for losing at mine. Never could I have imagined a world where i'd see an album cover like hers; upon seeing it, I was not only shocked, but enraged: She was everything I was told I could not be. And the Truth Is: more than likely, someone told Lizzo the same thing I was told, and the difference is-- she didn't believe them, and kept moving forward. The difference is: She believed in herself, and loved herself enough to keep trying. The difference is, that everything I needed, I already had--I just never believed it to be so. I'm proud of her...but insanely jealous. My inner child cries “That should have been me.” Truth Hurts. There's more to it, than that; Envy lives in the cavernous pits deep within the confined Hell that is my subconscious mind--and--as the world begins to close in on itself, as consciousness continues expanding, I find myself fighting against the worst of my woes daily. Nowhere can I go without meeting a flawless, forward-figured, and facially exquisite female--rather than submit to catty jealousness, I have learned to admire and nod or bow as a gesture that I am a lesser creature. So now i'm left to wonder as I self-teach myself a trade, if my aspirations may ever be achieved, without possessing any outer beauty. All that's left in the world for me, now, is to become my own favorite DJ. (A title, of course, formerly belonging to Skrillex... ruined, by his untimely arrival as a physical person, into my actual life. More on that later...and infinitely.) I've lately begun asking myself “Is it really worth it?”...but, at the same time, I've never loved anything so much, as to fly on the wings of music--and so i've also wondered “What else will really make me happy?” Tough question. Ideally, I'm the entertainment Guru I always wished to be--not tied down to any one artform, but able to move about freely in all of them. There's no life without theatre--there's no light without entertainment. If living ideally, I could never be any-one-thing-- if living ideally, I am the embodiment of everything I love. But in a world where a snatched waist and a pretty face are a winning (and deadly) combination, I'm 0-0. Life of am ugly kid. Worse off yet, since even Hobo Johnson seems to have more confidence in his awkward and broken rhythms enough to speak his mind clearly enough for the rest of the world to resonate. Might be a good time to revisit, what it is exactly I came for. Perhaps, the answer is nothing: So far, I have nothing, make nothing, am nothing--if there is anything that I am, it's words on a piece of paper--just another ‘thing', another dreaming, wishful hopeful that I can rise above all that has been, and all that I am now...to become something more When training to match with the likes of the devil in preparation for battle against he, you must intend to figure, what the vehicle he has chosen has maintained to use as atool to help build you, as a Saint or an Angel--or one to break you, as Satan he. It has been a fruitful fas, but still i persist, though with a weary eye and curious mind, to the riddle i have yet been presente; ; Much ado about Chicken Soup. “Practice androgyny!” the two meet, immidiately fritening eachother; they transform-- One becomes dog, the other a cat--the cat begins to run. the dog pursues her. they run into a sunny meadow where a river feeds the wildlife and it is vibrant amongst the creatures; the cat climbs up a tree, and the [very friendly] dog stops at the base, looking up at her playfully, with an ask that she come down. She looks down from the tree at him, at a safe distance, and begins to relax on the I've fallen in love with a celebrity. What medicine cures that? Dearest Sonny, I'm unsure quite how to explain myself to you--or if I can, or should explain myself at all.I guess I could start with “I'm sorry.”, but it's almost as if that doesn't quite cover it, and nothing does. Perhaps, i'll start with just “thank you”--thank you for being you--which is something that makes me more ‘myself' than anything, at best. Really though, that's probably a good place to start with the wholehearted apology I owe you; It cannot be easy being yourself, or navigating life with such prominence, importance--as I'm sure you never intended all that you are, as any gift-given may have come as a God-honest, and God-given surprise. That being said; God is only anything that I am --as is, anything that you are. The talent that you possess is insurmountably powerful...and has touched, changed, inspired millions--changing the world and the very fabric of time itself--no matter how unintentionally, in all your humility. Somewhere hidden, I too have talent. I only wish that in this lifetime, I were granted the confidence and charisma to be able to somehow express it. Music is the matter I find I am made of--without being able to express it, I only feel burdened, trapped. It is a beautiful language you speak--you, and the rest of the artists I've grown to admire. It is a language so soothing, I can only long to learn it; I'm afraid though that in this lifetime, too much time and opportunity has passed...in this modern, technologically fast-paced new world...i've been left behind. You are truly a good friend, indeed. In all the sense that it doesn't make, I honor you as someone who has inspired, motivated, comforted, and captivated consistently throughout my existence in this time, in this life; Though i've been in recent times, able to remember your essence in lifetimes past, it is in this lifetime that I find the most befuddling, how your music itself has seemed to find and follow me.Unexplainable, would be the word that I can most easily use to describe anything having to do with it--love, would be the other word. “I love you”, is, I guess, what I was trying to say by tapping you gently three times, before running away. Really though, there aren't many things I could have said, or done--i'd never really been “starstruck” before; but it would be quite a stretch to say that it was the first time I'd been left awestruck in your presence. Countless performances, club shows; Raves are my favorite, favorite thing--second to the feel, and sound of bass. “Synesthesia”, would be the vocabulary word that explained a lifelong fascination with laser lights and deep bass; in ten years of hugging subwoofers and losing myself in the drop wondering my early adulthood mantra “Why am I like this?” almost constantly, it never mattered more to me than it has now. I recall a time where I referred to Skrillex as my spirit animal--still true, I suppose, although considering the fact I've consciously separated the Skrillex of things from the Sonny Moore of it all. One in the same, or, two separate parts of a whole--I can undeniably say all my unconventional, unconditional “I love you, I love you, I love you's”, in the everything that you are. ‘In love', would be an understatement--though which statement to actually make, i'm unsure of. I'm unsure of a lot of things, really; I've made many honest (and dishonest mistakes) in this lifetime--walking away from you, one of them. But, I can't change that, anything about who I am--or anything about the world the way it is, for I am only one--and too small, too weak, and too tired. My soul wishes for the freedom that death will bring--and so, I must let it...as its simply much too hard to live moving forward with such a badly broken spirit. I want you to understand that it is not your fault; It's nothing to do with you, or anything that you've done--the way that I love is uncontainable, once the match has been lit. I apologize again that you've become a victim in the energy field that becomes somewhat of a vortex, once activated. I didn't mean to fall in love with you--I don't know really how it happened, it just did. Maybe you don't remember me. Maybe you do. It doesn't really matter now, I just want you to know that me leaving this life is no fault of yours. I love you wholeheartedly--wholeheartedly, too, I love myself--though, seemingly only from the inside-out; there's nothing I can do about the outer shell I've been trapped in all these years. This is my body; something I would neither burden nor embarrass you with. Apologies, and all my love to you. There's nothing I want for you more than to live a happy, healthy, fulfilling life--I hope that you and those surrounding you are always, always living in peace, with joy and love--without worry, or burden, or stress; in honesty, these arre my wishes for anyone on this planet..as my love for humanity itself has only seemed to quantify, as I near the end of my life. I love, love; sometimes, I believe that I *am* love, as are any of us--but as I draw nearer to the light, it becomes harder and harder for me to believe that anything else matters, or has ever mattered, more than love. I love you. It just may be that i'm the world's biggest Skrillex fan--but to look beyond the cloak of stardom has left me longing for the embodiment of a memorable, familiar soul: The you. The person, and being that actually is; which is to say--as I would for any of my closest friends--I'd go to hell-and-back for you, give my last for you, do anything to protect you--*you*, the person; wanting and needing, expecting nothing in the world--because I cannot see a world without you in it. I'm sorry again, for any negativity. I meant to leave you behind at least, something beautiful, in exchange for all the years and moment's i've experienced through your art--but as I've mentioned before, I am trapped within myself. Symphonies unsung, melodies unwritten--because I've not what it takes to make it. I won't depart without admitting I tried, Music is my all, my everything, my guiding light--so at least in going home, I know there will always, always be the World of Sound--perhaps Heaven in the place where I can live there. I don't know what else to say. You're one of the most beautiful people i've ever seen, from the inside out--before I saw you, I heard you; before I could hear you, you were felt. I will always love you...nothing much else can matter, except that you know that. I'll never be able to erase it from my mind, never be able to forget, or look past it. I may even never understand why. Ancient Egyptian knowledge, or whatever—is the thing it seems they were trying to convey. By they, I only mean—whoever it is that wanted to hurt me. From the men shouting “kill yourself” outside my window— To the flocks of gorgeous, perfect women with perfect waists, perfect fashion, perfect faces—flaunting and floating before me, taunting me, pointing and laughing—rolling eyes, and flipping hair— and giving looks that say “I know you wish you looked as good as me.” I do. I do wish that. I wish more than anything to be beautiful. But...I keep eating. My body is hideous. I hate everything about it. I could try harder, but even that hurts. Everything hurts. Especially my heart. Why was I not more panicked, that after such a phenomenon such as that, cast by shadows against my tent—that the zipper of the door began to move slowly, from one side to another. Perhaps, I wanted the company. Maybe I needed it. What I didn't need, was more excruciating pain. No one's fault, I guess—someone wants me dead. At this point, I think me, the most. I'll never forget that face. The shocker. “Why is Skrillex in my tent?” The looming question. A question I hadn't even the time to ask, before blurting out “Are you okay?!” He froze, I froze. I guess that's where my Skrillex and my Sonny collided, as my soul began the process of separating the music I adored, and the person who made it. I will never forget his eyes. Fear. I scared him. He scared me. He scarred me. Maybe it wasn't him. I know that it *was* in fact Sonny himself (the face is unmistakable, those eyes)—but perhaps he was put up to it. Paid, for the task. Maybe my deer-in-the-headlights makes it so that he is the hunter—? How could he have missed his shot? How could I have missed mine. I've fallen in love with a celebrity. What medicine cures that? What medicine cures suicide? None I've taken, really—maybe Acid. Now, I can't seem to separate myself from Skrillex—or from Sonny—or from figuring out the two, or one in the same— or from figuring out myself, in that we are one in the same. I love him. Like a stupid teenager loves her favorite idol. Yeah, it's exactly like that, except worse—I'm a grown woman, a failure—whose aspirations and admirations are grandiose, and dillusional. Now I'm even more delusional. I thought, for a moment that Sonny might be in love with me. In honesty? Sometimes I still think that. I actually still believe that. So why this approach? I'm partially convinced he was paid to ‘finish the job', so to speak. I was already suicidal, and, fresh out of the hospital on the attempt to end my life that failed, again. So this would do it—make me hope and believe I could be something, someone, anyone—that I could be anything—even a superstar DJ-turned-future President. I'm a fucking joke. Someone, who could have anyone—in love with me? Maybe this is why people sneak into tents at music festivals: They don't love you— They just want to fuck. DAY 1: MAY 1ST, 2020; If I am offered dinner, will eat--but if not, will continue forward. Will set an alarm for 3:30 AM once roommate has gone to bed to check for his keys. Everyone gets their own suicide letter. Mom Dad Bearr Annie Yesenia Sonny (just leave it to Annie w/ his rock && burn book) Let everybody know it's not their fault. Reasons: 1. Fat 2. Ugly 3. Black 4. Poor 5. Unsuccessful 6. Friendless 7. No Charisma 8. Single I don't know why I numbered them. Do you really need more than one reason to kill yourself? (no.) I believe i”ve started the fast that I was asked. Be it that I have, the date is May 1st, 2020--however, I've been wondering if my roommate leaves the keys to his car in an accessible place; I'm kind of hoping so. I'm already craving to eat, and the first 24 hours have yet to pass. Again, i'm always given the open to keep this date and continue forward, so long that I eat before midnight--however, nothing seems like the right answer; The matter of fasting has become a damned-if-I-do, damned-if-I-don't matter...it seems that everything I do is ‘wrong', though right-and-wrong are subjective, and multidimensionally, objective, even. I probably might have been dead by now, if my car battery hadn't died...it seems like the easiest and least painful way; something easy and quiet. I've thought about sharpening a knife, just to cut and let [myself] bleed out at the wrist--but then, I fear that I may panic and that my mind would fight to survive. I've thought about hanging from one of my favorite trees-- but haven't the money left to buy any rope--which, perhaps, I could steal--but to steal enough rope to hang myself with on foot? A tricky task, to say the least. So, really, some of me is hoping my roommate leaves his keys out. At first, the thought of committing my suicide here was unsettling. My roommate, Satan's personal favorite vehicle and overall negative void of a ‘person' (or vampire, honestly), is a drama Queen--he needs not only conflict and drama to survive, but fiends for it; something in me had somehow become too proud to give him something to girlishly blabber about with his narcissistic, simple friends--I can already hear the repetitive exclamations of “horror” that would more-than-likely delight him as he recounts the story of finding my body, over-and-over...at first it rather haunted me, and now i've come to peace with--bargaining that having him find my body would be something of a statement, which wordlessly reads “sticks and stones may break my bones but words got up and killed me.” Words. Little words. Big Words. Actions. Gestures. If it's negative, I can feel it in my body, before it even happens; If it's positive, it can leave me radiating for days on end, and without a care. My “living situation” has been nothing more than a prolonging of my already disastrously failed and predominately miserable life. A mentally-ill and often psychotic mother, followed by a too- young marriage to a dynamically similar person, has left me up Shit's creek with no boat; I'm pushing 30 with no significant other, and no significance at all. There are generations of perfect people, fresh out of high school--who can and will do everything I ever thought possible or imaginable, better than me. And it's my fault. NO ENTRY ON DAY 2. Gave Myself A “Skrillex” haircut. Wow. Fuck my life. DAY 3: The fast will end today, more than likely. I am overwhelmed with grief, at loss for motivation, and struggling to believe there is any positive outcome to anything I do. I'm already getting headaches, and acute hunger pains--usually these things don't happen until well after the third day. I suppose my body is telli

united states god love jesus christ music women american fear time california live money black world president success social media trust english google babies hollywood starting apple spirit man los angeles technology lost body prayer las vegas media voice future space hell running energy real land living speaking sound west kingdom truth building practice walk thinking miami happiness dj chinese gold masters christianity depression government reading teaching heart fighting japanese turning elon musk devil spanish moon dance dc left dna holy drive leaving therapy satan write losing darkness mom open drop night fake twitch dive utah shame dead strange gods alive 3d ring aliens started poor toxic asian watching memories testing code protect dragon divine mexican monster sun nazis fall in love disasters run drugs attention reflecting balancing tree lack created witness beyonce planet stuck rain alaska standing oprah winfrey captain ocean curse mama hurt enemy sick childhood empathy danger birds praying heard apologies tough kiss boom beatles forgive shoes ugly eagles cops act protecting dancing debt origins cloud promises paradise flight fasting front lights nevada guilt monsters sing driven worse demons panic bills shit wood tiger ucla singing hang shooting michael jackson believing paying sitting suck native americans fill loneliness traditional wear honestly throw passing pokemon gotta paid ninjas silent worlds pack smoke library minds gps diving judas curiosity aftermath fuel b2b fuck intention emotion waste window rock and roll betrayal amen countdown died lonely bass deeper underground jungle grave releasing ascension bet expert mike tyson beating solid hates smell kim kardashian marijuana echo limited hiding methods ravens hanging crying superstar plans bitch leap baptist poison multiverse envy greed found zen sciences rivers paint joyful closed oasis coast shut purple absolute sad bots grass bought goddess aligning judging djs rape rocket trapped mainstream glow throwing mantra sober felt walks lizzo gov quien hawks thank god edm meditate shades nonsense decoding nah silly shorts mad singles armor robin williams omg billie eilish fin ignite lied ludwig van beethoven ducks yang george lucas lemon bus ranked ruined boosting decided makers lala cousin bare surf alarm myspace martyrs acid thc shrek touring bells bro matt damon whitney houston toxicity laying anarchy men in black closure goodnight watched djing makes rick and morty pit wandering burning man i love cigarettes blackrock upside heavens pyramid debating experimental collisions burnt tsa white supremacy malibu lay imperfection tied stunning barely bag mandarin bury bleeding sala goin betrayed two weeks ay glitch rocking lava cries abandonment tasty granny laid restless cree odd learned wet unreal crows likeness hershey good friends rotten pikachu drifting attached rewind philosophical yin blanket pin clique diplo robins chicken soup lucid sticks and stones unmasked kidd whoop northern lights emp dubstep lax auntie downside threaten attracted black magic skrillex mouths of course live nation vips trippin sleepless fins edc insomniacs carbohydrates delusions oh god manic bruh one world imitate unreleased silos choking time capsules energi aw charmed white supremacists chance the rapper pressed repression eskimos sweater fast forward electronic music somethings compression stocking delighted spirit animals raves watchful fetal gestures flashing synchronicities swallowed breadcrumbs code switching father time foxy rebuilt staple truth hurts ancient egyptians admiration lunacy randomly voiceless pave suess humpty dumpty save the date panicking killin deities kandi unsuccessful sparrows shhhh huevos daw ableton cherished grand prize dillon francis epitome laced synesthesia droughts time money butters reawakening rin supa piecing unexplainable lackey chainsaws repeats effing uhhh that guy blindly flatten white lights news channel excision medicine man will you givin stifle deafening chava symphonies festival season whispered skyy aight coughs big words sunn red blue phone home savin everything everything callous jungle fever jamies uuml alternately chala where do we go tin roof bangarang in la sprites dissociative hunny inwardly gasping hey dude scary monsters translucent this guy aloft no sympathy wonderous adventure club plain jane plur rezz sleepin losin xylophone female dj big drop liquidate electric daisy carnival romantically lost lands god on inciting incident central washington bloo disintegrate blindfolds hobo johnson ous windblown alerted all seeing eye iridescence abolishment owsla chiodos taunted look at drapery blue red lizzard too deep from first to last google university josh pan matt maeson steve erwin abbot kinney grand delusion wubs phoenixx rocket summer i died christ not levitated respect it ease my mind brostep sonny moore bass canyon allison wonderland dupstep

Aftermath. (Unreleased) Sunnï Blū, -the kidd. {THE TIME CAPSULE}

The Legend of S Ū P ∆ C Я E E ™

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 15, 2023 4:55

this is a cringeworthy read, i'm sure of it. {THE TIME CAPSULE] Here lies everything I won't delete, but wouldn't dare to publish (as of yet), and therefore banish to the land and/or realm of impossibility, where everything entirely consists of unimaginable, unfathomable, inconceivable, never-ever-happened ( or will) unexistence. Nothing Here Exists. Amen. (I didn't write this.) The Colenel's Jounal. “Would he be mad reading this shit? “ I mean. I have to step back at this point and admit to reading this shit to myself at this point, that... I stumbled upon an interview with none other than The Great Mike Tyson--who--if coincidences actually existed--coincidentally dated my mother oh-way-back-when. I remember the shenanigans she went through to get him to sign a pair of boxing gloves for an auction she hosted, once, when I was younger. For that, I've always gotten a little chuckle, whenever I've randomly ended up watching something. Dude is funny. As for other dude? I'm so lost. It's almost like Insomniac (or whoever) can read my thoughts--or at the very least, my text messages. It's been a year of strangeness, and I'm now more lost than found. Why is Pasqualle so strangely familiar? What is this connection, i'm missing? Who am I, if not S U P A C R E E? I'm aware of my cosmic insignificance, my societal displacement. I am nothing useful that I know of, but it seems so that I've been being followed. So maybe he's not a white supremacist, after all...he seems to love as much as I do--if not more. So, that one's my fault, as everything is. I wonder if the window of opportunity has truly closed. I wonder what to make of all this, at all. I'm so, so confused, and so lost, and so… ...confused... First, I levitated. Still can't get over that (literally) Then....everything else. Literally everything else. From playing drums at Ruskos set, to weirdly making my way to Excision, just “following a vibe”--my failed suicide attempt, and running away to Bass Canyon where, everything in my reality officially shattered. Now, here I am...about to be homeless, jobless, and lost in love. I can't shake it off anymore, I can't let it go. My brain's wrapped around all of it, all the time. Prayers, Mantras, Methods. I'm driving myself crazy trying to wish away the pain. I need to be...need to be… … Needed. Bearr needs me. Sometimes, in all the pain--I fail to see that. But he does--and if I can't make it in show business...how are we meant to survive? There's no room for depression and poverty in motherhood. After losing the twins...I just can't. I can't be sad and parent at the same time. And, maybe that makes me weak. Maybe it makes me stupid. Maybe I've just had enough. But there's nothing I wouldn't give just to know that there's love, somewhere out there for me. Is it selfish that that's all I want? I think i'm a good person, but maybe i'm wrong. I can account for hundreds of premonitions, predictions, visions--outstanding sensitivity to energy...but how could I misread, and misjudge, so easily? Something inside me never really made it out of that tent. Then, going back--maybe it was all of me, that never made it out of that ambulance. Am I just the special kid in class--and it's obvious I've been left behind? When I hear myself speak aloudt, I wonder if I am retarded. I feel other people also wonder. Either way, how would anyone have known about my musical history so broadly, as it's been displayed? There's no going back from it. I can't go back to being a regular “Skrillex” fan. It's almost like...almost like I can't go back at all. And I miss that, a lot--just being able to be honest about what my taste in music is, who my favorite musician is…. I tense up when I hear the word “Skrillex”. In good company, I can shrug it off, I guess…. But on any regular day, it still feels deep. It doesn't leave my mind, ever. I can pretend to move on, but I can't unlove. I can't unlove. So, i'm two-for-two...three-for-three, if you count Josh Pan's video, where his face swells up and he turns into a reptile… I remember waking up for work with swollen eyes, and bulging, puffy skin...the way the spiral to insanity began...not with suicide, at all--at least, in the traditional sense. I was working 80 hours a week. I needed it--I needed out of my marriage. Pasqualle's sweater Sonny's Sweater, now falling apart--because, yes--I've worn it every day for nearly a year. A red, white, and blue blanket, reminding me of my presidential ambitions--which have since, not faded...but become realistically reflected with this sense that, I have much to fulfill between now-and-never. I'll only run for President if I can afford it. I can only afford it if I am successful in music. I found it heartwarming that Mike Tyson is so enamoured by the culture. To see him swell with joy, such as I have, upon discovering the world of raves. Apparently, there will be some kind of permanent Oasis, someday...I hope I live to see it. Better yet, I hope I live to play there. I want my chance on all the stages, as selfish as it may seem. To earn a place behind the decks, an unrealized dream. But, can I find it to become all that it takes? To read and move a room, to create and connect with people, live onstage. To inspire a crowd--telling a story with music. To give love, the best way that I can. I miss myself...but no I don't. I do miss never having to worry about whether I was too fat to be found attractive by someone I vehemently admire--but never thought about sexually, in all of the years i've loved watching him live. But, its a vibe. Much ado about Elon Musk. I'm not smart enough to become a rocket scientist--and it's too late for me to become an astronaut, as I once dreamed...but there's something in the space above us all, that seems to connect the space between us all--and it's almost as is the walls are caving in. Time and space continues to collapse upon itself. I might be broken forever...but then, I always was. Who'd have thought the Grand Prize for your third suicide attempt is a Skrillex? I'm cursed, in the way that...it won't fall off. My brain won't un-Sonny itself. I'm on default to give a fuck now, and there's no turning back. I guess this is what I get for hating on *fangirls*...now i am one. Problem is, I'm a lot less cute. How often does shit like this happen? There's hypnosis through music--and then there's losing your entire soul to something outside of yourself. Why and how am I so out of place, in this world? ‘You're too good for this world.' Nothing's been forgotten, it's just getting more suppressed. I can pretend to move on, but I won't. I just found the Holy Mecca of research for my weird, invasive project. Apparently DeadMau5 had some kind of comedy show, or something--called “coffee run” It seems to be about...2014, but haven't bothered to check yet--I'm sure, though that this predates the infamous ‘fued'. Blah blah blah--i'm learning too much about these people. People. Real people. ...was interrupted to watch the new episode of Rick and Morty; Lucky me. One half-hour and several belly-rolling laughs later, I'm back...with slightly more self confidence that, if The Heavens grant me whatever kind of combination of confidence and focus that it will take to bring the Festival Saga If nobody's sampled this video, I've stumbled upon a literal goldmine. Life imitates art--and music imitates music. “I love it when it's super sweaty.” (How do I resonate with this so well?) “ A Los Angeles Real Estate Guy In Torono”, says Dillon. “Yeah, there's a few of those.”, Joel recants, stoically. Now i'm watching people who never mattered on YouTube, in a finally “Sonny says…” If i can ever make my brain learn the magic that makes something like Ableton somehow turn into a banger. “Does he drive?!” I've wondered this myself. “I don't think he does.” I knew it. Dillon Francis' awkwardness is reminiscent of mine...again, here I am wondering...who I might be if I were born a white male--if nothing was changed, but the body. CRUSTPUNKS. How did I get here? Oh, yeah. I specifically opened an incognito window to...fuck it. I know what I'm here for. The thing is, I don't know what i'm blessed with. I don't know that i'm talented… It could all just be a Grand Delusion… Do I hate myself enough to try this? A movie where the entirety of the fabric of [my] universe is music, and the musicians that make it. A universe that already existed in the Multiverse of Rick and Morty, since it's strange inception into my being. Wait, how the fuck did I get here? I was already on a writing tangent Probably--I hate enough to “ i get to go home--not tomorrow, but the next day” This experience is becoming so humanizing. It is a job, this music shit--Touring takes you everywhere but home. What the fuck is ‘home?' Perhaps I am meant for this shit, after all. I don't have a home, anyway. I also don't have any music under my belt, but--with any luck, I can pump out the LP I promised my twins. Today Marks 5 years since Skyy passed away. May 23rd will be 2 years, since Phoenixx left us. It's not a good time of year, for grief. With no friends I can trust (Annie's Toxicity is again rearing its head), no family that loves me the way a family should...I find myself completely isolating from what Love is, almost forgetting what it might have felt like. “How often are you home?” “KAAAAHHHHHHHHHN” If i'm ever lucky enough to learn how to make Dupstep--that deserves to go before a fucking deadly drop. I've officially seen Skrillex more times in person than ever on video--which disincluded, of course, the tent incident--something I'm realizing that if I'm unable to catch up with myself in time, I'll have to live with forever. Can I answer my own prayers? At this point, i've given up any expectation of what it might be like to achieved enough to earn any kind of place in that world *their* world... 5/6/2020 Life is unfair sometimes. Like--do I want tacos, or divine inspiration? Do I put off fasting for yet another day, just for the temporary comfort and satisfaction of eating? Does limiting my eating to once every 24-hour-or-less suffice as enough of a self-sacrifice, that my prayers might be answered? I highly doubt that it is, but still--I often ride the line between just allowing myself to feel good when I can (and food does, make me feel so....so good) and remaining steady in my fasting. Then, it has been over 6 months of almost constant fasting and praying, all over someone I haven't properly met--all over myself. Because, the longer I stay in this mindset--the clearer it becomes that it is all the same. At the core, there's only really one thing in existence. Skyy will have passed away 5 years ago tomorrow. To think, I should have had 5-year-old twins. They would have been so beautiful; I've never quite imagined them so, umti now. I miss my babies so much. Will I ever be okay again? I thought to record a song for Skyy, but it would never be ready by tomorrow, in the perfect way that I would want it to be. I don't want to put out anything less than the best. I'm being as patient as I possibly can with teaching myself--but grow frustrated in my limitations. The only thing standing between me, and the tools I need to make the music I have...is me. (Really, it's money.) Lack of money is keeping me from being unstoppable. With unlimited money, I'd have a home--I could fully pay all 4-years of my tuition at UCLA….ny dream school. I'd study music, anthropology, astrology….maybe even engineering. I can't make myself prettier--but I can make myself smarter. Google University just isn't cutting it. I want to make a difference in the world by any means, and i'm trapped behind the gate of poverty. I just want a closet full of harem pants, chuck taylors, and T-shirts with stuff I like on them. I just want to wear my kandi every day. I just want to be behind the decks atop the stages of my favorite places… I want to be someone's favorite DJ. I want to be one of my favorite DJ's favorite DJ I, I, I… How selfish. What does the world need? Less people. Well, i'm honestly one-less, I guess, if I can;t make it in music, in art. If I can't make a decent living just by being myself...i'm not meant to live at all. That much is true--no life worth living includes waking up every day to go to a job I hate, that barely pays my bills. No life is worth living that Something strange happens to me when my favorite people go ‘live' on instagram Social Media, a young demon with whom I constantly evade, when I am not forcibly fighting to fit the status quo (which, I cannot.) Watching my social media right now is like the digital equivalent of “You can't sit with us.” I've grown attached to OWSLA like some sort of distant, imaginary family--only, I know this is something I've just embedded into my mind--the ultimate wishful thinking. Everything I do seems fragile, as if the grid I had discovered not only exists in the outer world, but also my inner--that everything I do, think, say, sing, speak makes a difference in what will happen moving forward. Reawakening my center has been difficult, saying the very least--I am almost paralyzed by negativity--made catatonic through senses with which I cannot control; My ‘home' life has become a hell where i'll-spirits and pitiful thoughts are cast about me--in reality, I have no home. In truth, I'm unsure that I have any purpose, either. It's all been bothering me… Now it's something that just hurts, like everything else. Add to the pain, subtract from willingness to live. Add to the trauma, subtract from the motivation to succeed. How much of my fault is this? Who did it? What is it for? Amongst the most otherworldly of theories, the possibility that extraterrestrials had actual involvement in removing Sonny from wherever he was supposed to be (Burning Man, albeit) and placing him where I was. I've wondered how else the dancing shadows cast against the canvas of the tent were so perfectly made-- ancient egyptian prophecies foretold as a light show, in the moments leading up to the one where the entirety of my being was shifted, in an instant. I dreamed of a B2B with Skrillex, and instead got a face-to-face with Sonny Moore. One, apparently, does not quite equal the other. Eight (or so) months later, and I've filtered through all the stages of grief--for all of the ways I had to lose him--as much as one could be lost, without actually dying. But, perhaps I am dead. My soul and spirit at least, are trapped, and tainted torturously from all I've come to gather. Running into the night, like a bat fresh out of hell, away from the visions I was forced to have from our exchange-- I can only imagine, had I acted any differently and stayed, rather than fled what else I may have seen. In only the few short moments we shared together...I was able to see more of his life than for anyone I've ever ‘seen' for, besides myself. To have, after only a few moments--seen both backwards into his past--and forwards into a seemingly shared future of some sort. I don't know what else to call this creepy psychic shit, other than “seeing”. To even call myself a “seer” would be a heavy title, I'd be too uncomfortable to claim. Still, vivid memories of the dude's past--and chilling premonitions of the future, have left me disgustingly sick with a concern that wholly did not exist, beforehand. But, when faced with the question: “What would it be like to actually lose him?” I fucking lost it. I've never taken well to celebrity deaths--perhaps, overly sensitive in ways that suite absolutely nobody--I just so happen to have fallen apart numerous times, upon learning of the passing of those i've long cherished. I collapsed fully at Michael Jackson's passing, scrolling through the African TV channels in disbelief, as I desperately searched for a News Channel in English to confirm that it was indeed, true. This was, of course, a couple years after I cried for hours with Back to Black on repeat in the wake of Amy Winehouses' death--going even further back, I can recall arguing with a classmate that Steve Erwin, another hero, was brave--rather than ‘stupid', and undeserving of his untimeley demise. A special place lies in my heart for the day I remember losing Robin Williams-- a weird memory which collides in the now, with my affinity for Skrillex music and the strange outer connectivity my emotions seem to have in the passing of those I wholeheartedly admire; I've shed tears for Whitney Houston, Prince--I've shed tears for all of them. But none so much as for Skrillex, who is [surprisingly] still alive… And I'm mad about it. I'm mad about it, because I was [partially] happy in my place, as a fan. I wasn't even the best fan, or the biggest fan (metaphorically speaking--physically, though--I probably hold a record of some sort.) I wasn't following his social media--I wasn't following his anything, honestly. I was just crossing my fingers that with every lineup released, I might find the name “Skrillex” plastered to the top of it, or standing out broadly against the other ‘S' names, if alphabetically presented. I'm mad about it, because I hate myself. I've been hating myself my entire life. But i've never hated that I loved Skrillex--in fact, I've always been quite proud, having watched the project skyrocket, as EDM penetrated pop-culture in the years following my college endeavors. Never really thought to think that at any point, we might be equals. We're not--outwardly, anyway. Inwardly, though? Fuck me. It's like I'm bound to it by the roots of the Tree of Life. Like something in my DNA was activated by an overabundance of Skrillex. I've undoubtedly, and by far crossed the threshold of having listened to 10,000 Hours of Skrillex, guaranteed. No calculations needed. Still, there are perhaps millions of others who share the same affinity--and at least a few thousands who are more outwardly obsessive than in. It works, when I need to know something I'd rather just ask Sonny myself, but can't--there's always a kid in the fan pool who has been quick to find whatever information I'm looking for, long, long before I've come to look for it. Poor guy. For almost an entire year, that's all I've really been able to think. ‘Poor guy.' Because, if the roles were reversed--and for whatever reason I decided to make my way into someone's tent at a music festival (I wouldn't) and I scared them into a shock, resulting in them fleeing away from me--I'd feel like shit. And, if I had been touring my entire life and watched the culture grow and morph into the nearly unmanageable able monster it has become--i'd feel like shit. If I had to watch an ambulance cart away someone in the crowd during one of my sets, I'd feel like shit. If I had to do a live set while I felt like shit, I'd feel like shit. and ...if some random fan fell head over heels in love with me, simply because I crawled into her tent, or made really good music, or made her feel some kind of way… I'd feel like shit. And that shit probably happens all the time. It's been 10 long years for me, with Skrillex-- but I can't imagine how long the last 10 years have been, as Skrillex. Now I think about all the shit DJs go through, being DJs….what's more, I've had to give in-depth thought to what it means to be a celebrity at all--what it might be like to have someone grow an obsession over you--unprovokingly. Although my ‘obsession' for this particular person can't technically be considered ‘unprovoked' (I was minding my own business, after all--and Skrillex was not on the lineup.) I can't help but feel for those in the limelight whose charisma and talent combined attract every type of creeper imaginable. I'm just the kind of creeper that wants to make music; any previous searches as an attempt to ‘get to know' Skrillex, previous to last August, originated in attempting to comprehend how to create such organic sounds--exploring and studying how intricately layered and carefully arranged each of my favorite sounds and songs were made. Piecing together how exactly an artist like such, had become as such. Now, i'm just entangled in self-doubt, as it seems the entire next generation is equipped with whatever skillset it takes to become an electronic musician. Self-doubt, as I fear that my body weight intimidated him as much as his presence intimidated me. Again: All me. All bad. I've nowhere to turn to to unleash this shit--it has to be a secret-- and even letting it slip to Annie in the isolation of the aftermath has felt like a mistake, since I allowed it to happen. Can I keep a secret? Ha. There are things that only I know, certainly. The premonition I did subtly speak of, I refused to unearth in detail, even to Annie. The other visions I was made to have, still my own secret; I've begun to wonder if, upon meeting Sonny, I would keep it to myself; I suppose that would depend on nature and context. But, I think about it every day. It is my first thought upon waking up, my final thought before coming to rest--it has permeated into the only dreams I ever have anymore--crowds my semi-waking thoughts as I toss-and-turn throughout the night; the amount of energy exchanged, the amount of concern that consumes me....lets me know that it is all apart of something far beyond my comprehension, far beyond my senses...far beyond any understanding of the universe that I may have. And, it hurts. As bad as it is for me, it's probably worse for him--IF he remembers any of it. Then, probably a seasoned drinker (lol, “probably”) There's a good chance that, well-- he does remember. Oh God no. If I could motion to be erased, I would. I've been trying to erase myself for the better part of a year, including and certainly not limited to August 4th--an attempt I can stand to think I had not fully recovered from by the time it all happened. What the fuck did happen? Though it can't be denied that each of us possesses some kind of magic--the origins of mine can be traced back, at least on one side. Powers I was ‘born with', as told by my father--something I only believed until I was old enough that it didn't make sense--and something I was forced to recognize once I was old enough that it did. I want to know what exactly it is that ties us... Where this love--which is what it is, undeniably-- originates. I've spent the better part of the last year praying and meditating, and attempting to loosen the knots in my stomach enough to self-soothe enough to settle that, at worst-- Sonny was just being a pretty white boy, looking for a good time--and I just became a victim by knowing how to have one. Alternately--how fuck fuck would he even know I exist? As i've stated, I was the epitome of a silent Skrillex fan, prior to all these spectacular occurrences. I may have, at some point online--said something about Skrillex being my Spirit Animal… (still true) But can't imagine what else might have been garnered in my attainable, tangible history, which would alert him of my existence at all. Then, with all the money in the world, you truly can do anything… And that's what I hate in all this. Him--having all the money in the world, and me, having none… The very thing that separates us from settlement, myself from closure. Really, the only thing I want. Closure. ‘I got love, fuck your money.' Sonny can be anyone--he's earned that right. He can be with anyone--deservingly so. I want for him the very best--and, knowing that I am not (physically, anyway) am dismissive of any judgement cast. I wouldn't want me, either--looks matter, I know. I just want to know what he means to me--in this lifetime, in this realm, in this reality. I didn't have to be moved from where I was to be inspired by him--I just always was. I didn't have to think about being attracted to him--I just always was. I didn't have to think about being connected through the music--I just always was. And it all came crashing down in a tent, at the bottom of the rabbit hole--where I lost my mind--after having already lost my soul, to something beyond the senses, long ago. I committed wholly and permanently to making music when Phoneixx died, almost 2 years ago. The point was never to sound like Skrillex, but rather to be like Skrillex, as an artist--but, after much speculative examination--I guess, I always was. I lost myself in the early days of Myspace. From First To Last rang through the hallways of my middle school's corridors. Chiodos carried me through the days of wrist-cutting and air-dust huffing, through the days of binging-and-purging, wishing I was prettier--and in the height of all that is the drama of living in my very own Teenaged Wasteland… The Rocket Summer was handed to me by the hands of an angel, as I transitioned out of awkward adolescent depression and into an almost-well-adjusted life at a performing arts school, as an aspiring musician, singer, dancer and storyteller… The dream that carried me out of Utah, and into the Heart of Hollywood at the age of 16… The dream I thought died, long ago. When We All Fall Asleep, Where Do We Go? Billie Ellish's spirit collided with mine, as the first time I heard her voice, I shattered inwardly, and shivered in the resonance that is the understanding of pain, born undoubtedly in love; I shuddered to think that someone so young could feel so devoid of the willingness to live, to move onward. My response upon first experiencing her music, of course, a genuine “...Is she ok?” Three little words. I tend to really mean them, any time I ask. “Are you OK?!” I blurted, as my entire self exploded into shock, as I immediately recognized the face I've known for years--and looked through the widened eyes of one so now devastatingly human--to something inside of myself. Something about my voice shifted him; He became a mirror for all my pain, all my doubt--all the shame I have, for all that I am-- my demons came straight to the surface. Voiceless, now, and shielded in the fetal position, we faced each other silently. 'I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm Sorry.', I thought loudly, as I lay panicking. I stared down into my chest, ashamed to be anything but invisible, thoughts racing. I dare not lift my head to look at him. My heart pounded, as I lay screaming silent apologies for my appearance--for my very presence, for my own existence. I couldn't process his presence in my reality. Choking back tears, I tried not even to so much as breathe, as I silently apologized for being born--and though I wanted nothing more than to reach out to hold him, I lay all-but-lifelessly--wondering what went so wrong that he would seek to find me. The familiar smell of liquor permeated the air, as my heart sank, throbbing as it pounded...I know an alcoholic, when I smell one. I did actually wonder if he was okay....(and I've been wondering daily, ever since.) But clearly, he wasn't okay. Clearly, I wasn't. Clearly, nobody's ok. He slipped his praying hands between my thighs, as I died inside--and all my outer senses blended to become all, and nothing at once, again. Exit Skrillex, Enter Sonny. How does a mere peasant earn a spot in the company of the Highest Priest? I've not bargained with the Devil, but begged the Heavens that my life would end before his...the First Fast emerged as a direct result of self-sacrifice; To serve as a protection against misjudgement--to realign my soul with it's true intensive purpose--in hopes that my body would shrink to form something suitable. The memory of his hands between my thighs, a haunting reminder that--I just may be too big for him… The reality is...of all that I am, and all that I have, and all that I wish to be...it just may be that--he's too big for me… metaphorically speaking. I'll have to become a damn-near Superstar, just to get to know the people--that know the people--that know the people, that know people who can connect me to Sonny, on any level. I'll have to get in line behind millions of other hopeful DJ's, producers, singers, dancers, songwriters--hundreds of thousands of entertainers who might kill-or-die to get to know Skrillex in any way-shape-or form. Romantically, I'd be competing against at least a million perfect-bodied beauty-queen fangirls who would do anything--and I mean anything--for their shot at Skrillex. The truth is, I'm not trying to get to know Skrillex; The truth is, i'd rather know Sonny. (Whatever that's supposed to mean, right?) I don't question at all our potential compatibility; there's no doubt in my mind that there's some chemistry between us--be it of ancient origin, an extra terrestrial genetic code, or otherwise...but I'd bet any money I actually had, that someone as highly regarded as Skrillex would be ridiculed, trolled, and tremendously hated by many, many fans--for associating with someone like me. I don't even know if it's like that--but, again--crawling into someone's tent is...kind of intimate. What in Heavens would one want with me, when he could have perfection-- Absolute perfection? I kind of get it. I'm used to being fetishised. I've always been the black girl who liked white guys--I've lead a life that's made it easy to learn that Jungle Fever is often taboo among the White Caucasion men who find black women attractive enough to fuck--but would never want to “date” us, or bring us home. I've learned that--at the end of the day-- most white guys, want white kids--even if they like to fuck black girls. Then, there's the added bonus of some genetic flaw which has allowed my body to at one point, have ballooned up to 380 pounds-- a body which, even after a 200+ pound weight loss, would disgust anyone with eyes, in what most would consider “cute rave attire”. And, although shrinking from a size 28 to a size 10 is somewhat of a ‘grand' achievement, I look like an asymmetrical potato sack with my clothes off. If there's anything I know about men--and especially the affluent ones--they love to have trophies to showcase. I've yet to see a body like mine on the red carpet, or as arm candy--or as the leading lady, anywhere. No, there's no such thing as a fat Cinderella. Still, he's one of the most handsome creatures i've ever seen-- undoubtedly one of the most beautiful creatures on this planet. I will continue to love what I know of him wholly and unconditionally. On my best days, I even hope to live long enough, and well enough to have the honor of properly meeting him. Never could I have the courage to ask him on a date--nor would I subject him to the cruelty of the outer world by alluding to the fact that he may, in fact be someone more important to me, than as just a musician--as with anyone i've ever loved, I only want for him the best. On my worst days, The Devil assures me that it was Annie he was really looking for, who he may have seen me with at the plethora of festivals we attended together last year--or perhaps, even Idania, who was supposed to have been there with me…and it would make sense. The Devil also constantly reminds me of how much prettier they both are than me--and better in every way. But, it was long ago that I came to terms with the fact that anyone who might come to love me--would also love Annie and would love her more thoroughly--her, having the more attractive body and face, being more ideally pretty. Standing next to Annie, I always lose. Even on a good day. All this, I can be sure to cast aside, however--because at the very best--he was looking for me, and everything between then-and-now builds into something of substance or significance… and at worse, my favorite figure in music absolutely hates me, and regrets my existence as much as I do. Either way, Skrillex hits hard any time of the day, any day of the week. And… Either way, Sonny hits home, all day, every day--until I can manage to learn to speak. Eight pages later, and it still hurts. Eight pages, and i'm still mad. I'm still crying. I'm still useless. I'm still stuck. Stuck on stupid. Stuck on Sonny. Stuck on Skrillex. Just… Stuck. And it hurts. 5/5 Another day. Nothing makes me hate myself more than waking up. ‘Don't look at the phone.' instructions, handed to me some time ago by the Divine--since then, I make it a point not to look at my phone, if I can help it, before I've sat up to pray, and meditate. Lately, I've been unable to relax at all enough to focus on a proper meditation, before realizing my actual self-worth (nothing), and falling into the depressive non-motion that has been me. How many evil men will it take being caught in the midst of, will it take for me to realize that I've been allowing myself to painfully absorb their essences, even without a single touch? Just living here alone has set me further back from my goals than I was--then--I'm beginning to feel that my ‘roomate' may have ties to White Supremacy; the evidence does just keep on building. It has occured to me that Jason's warning that Nick may be deep undercover for some Government agency is most likely true. Though I err on the side of not snooping through other peoples' things--I've happened to stumble across indicators which point to the likely case that he is, in fact, hired by the government or some other private entity--probably as part of some secret experiment, assigned to psycologically torture and disable mentally fragile individuals; It seems as though the experiement was designed in order to test morale, will power, self-control, and proper judgement-- tests which I've been concious of, but in the moment have not always cared about passing-or-failing. From the painful assortment of disgusting and obnoxious sounds make throughout the day, torturing me through unpleasant and peace-shattering sounds, left victimized by my synesthesia and recently pinpointed misophonia--or something similar...whatever it is that makes slamming doors, cabinets, and the items crashing to the floor after lazily being thrown across the room methods of torture. To the cavalcade of poisonous, sugary and addicted substances, which only seem to appear or are offered during crucial fasts--or, pushily and passive-aggressively left in my living space without asking whether or not i'd like any. Just left there, to be discovered upon finishing a shower, or returning from a nightly walk. And on days when I am actually hungry, or needing to eat? I am offered nothing. Only when I fast am I ever offered any sustenance. It says almost too much about my roomate as a person--to offer every time, or never at all would be acceptable, and understandable--but to only invite one to eat when one feels so ‘inclined' is beyond cruelty. It's privilege showing itself to be one of the only faces uglier than mine, that i'm aware of. While i've elected to use my headphones as a shield, life's not always easy immersed in a sound bath of isochronic tones and Theta Waves--and though it does excite me to have expanded my music library, with additions and updates I've been longing for ages-- it's almost more stressful to think about the amount of music that I don't have. Songs I would add to my “sets”, if you can call them that. If I can call myself a DJ--if I can call myself a person, anymore. Really, all I am is hurt feelings and trauma wrapped in flesh; I might be less of a person than I ever was, once. Everything costs--whether it be money, the world's currency--or time, the currency of the soul. Torturous is the life of an artist, who cannot herself make ‘art', as she sees fit. Everyone in Hollywood has a screenplay in their back pocket; Everyone in LA has a dream, two-to-three-jobs, and a side hustle--and me? I'm just learning to DJ to self-soothe, having given up hope of ever becoming anything greater than the happiest guest at the rave nearest you. It's harder than it looks….(or, maybe it isn't, and i'm just retarded.) Building a music collection worthy enough to grace the decks in any of my favorite venues, is an arduous task--maybe this is why all the popular DJs are pretty white boys--the proof is in the privilege. Money, money, money...I used to make plenty of it, and was always exhausted--now I make none, and am always exhausted. What's worth what cost? Time = Money. In LA, and in the world. But by anyone's definition--and especially mine--LA is the world. Or, at the very least, sets the tone for the world. Truly, nothing is free. DJing is more expensive than I could have ever imagined--once again, in any direction I turn, there's a ladder to climb. I've not got the time or energy left in my sadly depleting lifesource left to storm gates, crawling over heads and cutting down those in my way. While it's certain that ‘Competitive Greatness' is the key atop the Pyramid of Success, there are 14 other bricks below to lay the foundation of that which one might call success, to be garnered as imagined through the eyes of a man, anyway, who lived in the 1930's. John L. Wooden may have been right--and may still be right--if I were a standard male (we'll leave race out of it, for now…..for now.) Still, i've been using the Pyrimid of Success as a guidepost, in what it is exactly I may have to do, or be, in order to become something. Not even something great, just something. Perhaps, if I can make it to being something, eventually I might become someone. Oh, to be a person would be nice. For now, I'll just have to settle on tricking my useless sack of anatomy into being a DJ. There's nothing outside of it, anymore. Bass Canyon truly was my last rave--not that I enjoyed it, honestly. Though I've attempted to retrain my brain around the trauma which resulted from that weekend, it did serve as a turning point--a sort of going-away party, as I departed from my home as a no-holds-bar Kandi Kid. Happy Graduation, OG Raver! Little did I know that, with the multidimentionality of our universe, I would be presented, through the world of possibility--the ability to at least observe with the naked eye that there lie more beyond the decks-- a space that may have been made for me. I'll never forget the moment I knew I would be a DJ--or at least try, for the life (or the death) of me. Electric Daisy Carnival changed my life--an experience ten years in the making that catapulted me into the depths of my wildest dreams--unbeknownst to me that I hadn't yet the ability to swim, in such that is the tempest of my own subconscious mind. But--that part of this story deserves its own dedicated elaboration; For now, i'll only look back--and realize that it was there that I aligned with my highest self in the truest sense, that, at least then, I actually believed that I could become a top DJ. I've lost the flight to stay afloat in the salty sea that is the millions of other people trying to make it to the mainstages of our favorite places, and begun to sink into the reality of the entertainment industry as a whole...the reality of the world, as a whole anymore. Looking around at the world's top DJs is less encouraging and inspirational than it should be. Nearly every headliner looks like every kid who ever bullied me, every guy who ever turned me down--every kid hosting the party I wasn't invited to. As for the females of the bunch--I find it frustrating that not one yet has been of any color other than yellow--and even then--we all know the world's men love Asian women. While I can admire girls like Rezz and Allison Wonderland--I wonder what kind of career, if any, if either of them were black, or heavyset--or, my losing genetic combination: Both. Would a fat Allison Wonderland have ever made it into the industry? Would a black Rezz ever become a staple in bass music, and rave culture? If Softest. Hard had a pot belly, would she have been discovered? Then, there are up-and-comings beyond my complete comprehension--those who are visually appealing, but musically inept; I'll leave out any names, and still salute them--anyone who can wrap their brain around any standard DAW enough to make an entire song, is absolutely more talented, definitely more intelligent than I am. [I'm not.] But, I can't help but wonder: How easy was it for any of them, being so pretty, to learn to do what they do--just by being kind and asking a friend for help to learn production? In so many years of raving, I've watched beautiful girls get pulled backstage--and even pulled on stage, to connect with the artists and VIPs. I've been brought to tears as I've watched rude girls with porcelain faces caked in makeup be lifted over rails into the promised land, picked to be plucked by just her eyes and smile combined with the perfection of a flat and flawless stomach. Pretty girls always get priority. Me? Well, I get the dead eyes of the drunken DJ, staring down at me through his whiskey glass, as he beckons the stagehands to assist the perfect-bodied princess backstage...but i'm only front-and-center so I can feel the music move, and watch all the energy bounce around, matching the movement of the expert's hands on deck, to the waves of sound colliding with the rest of the world. True, my mind might wander to what wonderful experiences await the perfect princess, as she disappears behind the decks, into a world i've yet to know, but only seen: The life I know exists beyond the rails, beyond the decks...the world I can only wish to build, for myself. Big ugly black girls don't get pulled backstage. Big ugly black girls are token ancillary characters, it seems, in the plot which writes the story of the modern rave. In a sea of new-generation ravers raised by Kim Kardashian and YouTube makeup tutorials--left lost in a torturous chamber of perfection--women who can wear anything, beautifully. Women who get whatever they want, whenever they want--because they know they can; 10's, to my -3. Bottom Line: Looks matter, until all the men in the world go blind. Sad-but-true. I move not to objectify the women whose music and movement through the clearly sexist music entertainment industry. God only knows how hard each of them has worked to earn a spot so highly ranked amongst those to whom we all admire--the legends, the greats. Each woman behind the decks has become a reflection of everything I wish I ever was--but also a painful reminder of everything that I am not. Of every girl i've ever come behind. Perhaps, this is the result of growing up the as the only ‘black girl', in the backwards, racist po-dunk town I was transplanted into: A place where I spent years constantly being told, taught, and trained that it was more admirable to have light skin, blonde hair, blue eyes...then again, The Media has always done a particularly good job at creating and maintaining what the ideal beauty standard should be, or is--and an excellent job of perpetuating stereotypes. People never expect me to sound how I do, or to like what I like--because it's “white people stuff”; and ten years ago when I discovered raving, there wasn't another black girl (or boy!) in sight for miles, at any rave I went to. I was the oddity, the token--the “what the fuck” person, in an already entirely what-the-fuck place. Fast Forward to 2020: My Freshman Year as a DJ. And...as it appears, the world behind the decks is just as non-diverse as the dancefloor was when I first began this escapade through the world of immersive music. Do I want to be the first ethnically-bred Female DJ to reach the top? OF COURSE. Can I? It's not up to me. Now I'm confusededly caught in the web that is rumours circulating of an ongoing race-war, and wondering if I've been left to die smack-dab in the middle of it. Amongst currently living with a white supremacist (or, extremely ignorant and culturally intolerant biggoted racist at the very, very least.), it seems that White Superiority may be a driving theme amongst the Electronic Music Industry--that maybe the world I've rather grown up in, and come to love has more twists, turns, and dark alleys to look through than the obvious ‘secrets' that loom in the world of rave. All seeing is the eye that watches over all. Insomniac's crew is among one of the least racially diverse I've ever seen--if I were Pasqualle, I might think to at least try to make it look as though there were a plethora of ethnic backgrounds who work together to tie the knot holding together the world's biggest metaphorical kandi: Insomniac, the Kingdom of Mainstream rave culture. A global endeavor. I wonder how many i've come to admire--Pasqualle included-- are actually White Supremacists, masquerading in the power of positivity and their corporate capitalism, true beliefs and intentions. My curiosity about the man himself peaked during EDC weekend, after stumbling into sign after sign, symbol after symbol--of something I've aspired [in the past] to commit to, but also am wearlily aware of its adversity towards that of my kind; being firstly female, and secondly partially black. Now, I wonder--am I even allowed to enter into the world beyond the decks--or is that preserved for only women with perfect bodies, fair skin--attractive individuals? Does it belong only to those with money? Is there any possibility that there may be room for someone like me to enter the scene--or may only pretty girls with pretty bodies and pretty hair be allowed in the backstage world? Really, I just want to perform. I miss myself as a dancer, as a musician--as an actor, all together. I still wish I had continued on this path a decade ago, when--though weighing over 300 pounds--my confidence at least existed. Teaching myself to DJ has been one of the hardest things i've ever done; I don't know if I'm retarded, but I'm beginning to consider attempting to see someone for some kind of screening. If Paris Hilton can DJ, why is it so hard for me? If Sonny can dink around on a computer with a blown speaker, call himself ‘Skrillex' and make some of the world's most intricate music since that of Beethoven-- why can't I do the same? What makes the difference in all these YouTube tutorials telling me how to do it--and me actually being able to do it? What is it, that's wrong with my brain? But, it's all i've wanted for over a year--to be a DJ, at least. I've always been a musician; It's just been a stop-and-go, allowing for the rest of what has been my life to pass through between the times I could make music, and couldn't. I wish I had the positive support it takes to have encouraged me forward on the path I was already on, since I was 13--instead, I was told I was too fat (and too black) to succeed in the way I wanted to. 10 Years later and Lizzo is at the top of her game, while I beat myself up for losing at mine. Never could I have imagined a world where i'd see an album cover like hers; upon seeing it, I was not only shocked, but enraged: She was everything I was told I could not be. And the Truth Is: more than likely, someone told Lizzo the same thing I was told, and the difference is-- she didn't believe them, and kept moving forward. The difference is: She believed in herself, and loved herself enough to keep trying. The difference is, that everything I needed, I already had--I just never believed it to be so. I'm proud of her...but insanely jealous. My inner child cries “That should have been me.” Truth Hurts. There's more to it, than that; Envy lives in the cavernous pits deep within the confined Hell that is my subconscious mind--and--as the world begins to close in on itself, as consciousness continues expanding, I find myself fighting against the worst of my woes daily. Nowhere can I go without meeting a flawless, forward-figured, and facially exquisite female--rather than submit to catty jealousness, I have learned to admire and nod or bow as a gesture that I am a lesser creature. So now i'm left to wonder as I self-teach myself a trade, if my aspirations may ever be achieved, without possessing any outer beauty. All that's left in the world for me, now, is to become my own favorite DJ. (A title, of course, formerly belonging to Skrillex... ruined, by his untimely arrival as a physical person, into my actual life. More on that later...and infinitely.) I've lately begun asking myself “Is it really worth it?”...but, at the same time, I've never loved anything so much, as to fly on the wings of music--and so i've also wondered “What else will really make me happy?” Tough question. Ideally, I'm the entertainment Guru I always wished to be--not tied down to any one artform, but able to move about freely in all of them. There's no life without theatre--there's no light without entertainment. If living ideally, I could never be any-one-thing-- if living ideally, I am the embodiment of everything I love. But in a world where a snatched waist and a pretty face are a winning (and deadly) combination, I'm 0-0. Life of am ugly kid. Worse off yet, since even Hobo Johnson seems to have more confidence in his awkward and broken rhythms enough to speak his mind clearly enough for the rest of the world to resonate. Might be a good time to revisit, what it is exactly I came for. Perhaps, the answer is nothing: So far, I have nothing, make nothing, am nothing--if there is anything that I am, it's words on a piece of paper--just another ‘thing', another dreaming, wishful hopeful that I can rise above all that has been, and all that I am now...to become something more When training to match with the likes of the devil in preparation for battle against he, you must intend to figure, what the vehicle he has chosen has maintained to use as atool to help build you, as a Saint or an Angel--or one to break you, as Satan he. It has been a fruitful fas, but still i persist, though with a weary eye and curious mind, to the riddle i have yet been presente; ; Much ado about Chicken Soup. “Practice androgyny!” the two meet, immidiately fritening eachother; they transform-- One becomes dog, the other a cat--the cat begins to run. the dog pursues her. they run into a sunny meadow where a river feeds the wildlife and it is vibrant amongst the creatures; the cat climbs up a tree, and the [very friendly] dog stops at the base, looking up at her playfully, with an ask that she come down. She looks down from the tree at him, at a safe distance, and begins to relax on the I've fallen in love with a celebrity. What medicine cures that? Dearest Sonny, I'm unsure quite how to explain myself to you--or if I can, or should explain myself at all.I guess I could start with “I'm sorry.”, but it's almost as if that doesn't quite cover it, and nothing does. Perhaps, i'll start with just “thank you”--thank you for being you--which is something that makes me more ‘myself' than anything, at best. Really though, that's probably a good place to start with the wholehearted apology I owe you; It cannot be easy being yourself, or navigating life with such prominence, importance--as I'm sure you never intended all that you are, as any gift-given may have come as a God-honest, and God-given surprise. That being said; God is only anything that I am --as is, anything that you are. The talent that you possess is insurmountably powerful...and has touched, changed, inspired millions--changing the world and the very fabric of time itself--no matter how unintentionally, in all your humility. Somewhere hidden, I too have talent. I only wish that in this lifetime, I were granted the confidence and charisma to be able to somehow express it. Music is the matter I find I am made of--without being able to express it, I only feel burdened, trapped. It is a beautiful language you speak--you, and the rest of the artists I've grown to admire. It is a language so soothing, I can only long to learn it; I'm afraid though that in this lifetime, too much time and opportunity has passed...in this modern, technologically fast-paced new world...i've been left behind. You are truly a good friend, indeed. In all the sense that it doesn't make, I honor you as someone who has inspired, motivated, comforted, and captivated consistently throughout my existence in this time, in this life; Though i've been in recent times, able to remember your essence in lifetimes past, it is in this lifetime that I find the most befuddling, how your music itself has seemed to find and follow me.Unexplainable, would be the word that I can most easily use to describe anything having to do with it--love, would be the other word. “I love you”, is, I guess, what I was trying to say by tapping you gently three times, before running away. Really though, there aren't many things I could have said, or done--i'd never really been “starstruck” before; but it would be quite a stretch to say that it was the first time I'd been left awestruck in your presence. Countless performances, club shows; Raves are my favorite, favorite thing--second to the feel, and sound of bass. “Synesthesia”, would be the vocabulary word that explained a lifelong fascination with laser lights and deep bass; in ten years of hugging subwoofers and losing myself in the drop wondering my early adulthood mantra “Why am I like this?” almost constantly, it never mattered more to me than it has now. I recall a time where I referred to Skrillex as my spirit animal--still true, I suppose, although considering the fact I've consciously separated the Skrillex of things from the Sonny Moore of it all. One in the same, or, two separate parts of a whole--I can undeniably say all my unconventional, unconditional “I love you, I love you, I love you's”, in the everything that you are. ‘In love', would be an understatement--though which statement to actually make, i'm unsure of. I'm unsure of a lot of things, really; I've made many honest (and dishonest mistakes) in this lifetime--walking away from you, one of them. But, I can't change that, anything about who I am--or anything about the world the way it is, for I am only one--and too small, too weak, and too tired. My soul wishes for the freedom that death will bring--and so, I must let it...as its simply much too hard to live moving forward with such a badly broken spirit. I want you to understand that it is not your fault; It's nothing to do with you, or anything that you've done--the way that I love is uncontainable, once the match has been lit. I apologize again that you've become a victim in the energy field that becomes somewhat of a vortex, once activated. I didn't mean to fall in love with you--I don't know really how it happened, it just did. Maybe you don't remember me. Maybe you do. It doesn't really matter now, I just want you to know that me leaving this life is no fault of yours. I love you wholeheartedly--wholeheartedly, too, I love myself--though, seemingly only from the inside-out; there's nothing I can do about the outer shell I've been trapped in all these years. This is my body; something I would neither burden nor embarrass you with. Apologies, and all my love to you. There's nothing I want for you more than to live a happy, healthy, fulfilling life--I hope that you and those surrounding you are always, always living in peace, with joy and love--without worry, or burden, or stress; in honesty, these arre my wishes for anyone on this planet..as my love for humanity itself has only seemed to quantify, as I near the end of my life. I love, love; sometimes, I believe that I *am* love, as are any of us--but as I draw nearer to the light, it becomes harder and harder for me to believe that anything else matters, or has ever mattered, more than love. I love you. It just may be that i'm the world's biggest Skrillex fan--but to look beyond the cloak of stardom has left me longing for the embodiment of a memorable, familiar soul: The you. The person, and being that actually is; which is to say--as I would for any of my closest friends--I'd go to hell-and-back for you, give my last for you, do anything to protect you--*you*, the person; wanting and needing, expecting nothing in the world--because I cannot see a world without you in it. I'm sorry again, for any negativity. I meant to leave you behind at least, something beautiful, in exchange for all the years and moment's i've experienced through your art--but as I've mentioned before, I am trapped within myself. Symphonies unsung, melodies unwritten--because I've not what it takes to make it. I won't depart without admitting I tried, Music is my all, my everything, my guiding light--so at least in going home, I know there will always, always be the World of Sound--perhaps Heaven in the place where I can live there. I don't know what else to say. You're one of the most beautiful people i've ever seen, from the inside out--before I saw you, I heard you; before I could hear you, you were felt. I will always love you...nothing much else can matter, except that you know that. I'll never be able to erase it from my mind, never be able to forget, or look past it. I may even never understand why. Ancient Egyptian knowledge, or whatever—is the thing it seems they were trying to convey. By they, I only mean—whoever it is that wanted to hurt me. From the men shouting “kill yourself” outside my window— To the flocks of gorgeous, perfect women with perfect waists, perfect fashion, perfect faces—flaunting and floating before me, taunting me, pointing and laughing—rolling eyes, and flipping hair— and giving looks that say “I know you wish you looked as good as me.” I do. I do wish that. I wish more than anything to be beautiful. But...I keep eating. My body is hideous. I hate everything about it. I could try harder, but even that hurts. Everything hurts. Especially my heart. Why was I not more panicked, that after such a phenomenon such as that, cast by shadows against my tent—that the zipper of the door began to move slowly, from one side to another. Perhaps, I wanted the company. Maybe I needed it. What I didn't need, was more excruciating pain. No one's fault, I guess—someone wants me dead. At this point, I think me, the most. I'll never forget that face. The shocker. “Why is Skrillex in my tent?” The looming question. A question I hadn't even the time to ask, before blurting out “Are you okay?!” He froze, I froze. I guess that's where my Skrillex and my Sonny collided, as my soul began the process of separating the music I adored, and the person who made it. I will never forget his eyes. Fear. I scared him. He scared me. He scarred me. Maybe it wasn't him. I know that it *was* in fact Sonny himself (the face is unmistakable, those eyes)—but perhaps he was put up to it. Paid, for the task. Maybe my deer-in-the-headlights makes it so that he is the hunter—? How could he have missed his shot? How could I have missed mine. I've fallen in love with a celebrity. What medicine cures that? What medicine cures suicide? None I've taken, really—maybe Acid. Now, I can't seem to separate myself from Skrillex—or from Sonny—or from figuring out the two, or one in the same— or from figuring out myself, in that we are one in the same. I love him. Like a stupid teenager loves her favorite idol. Yeah, it's exactly like that, except worse—I'm a grown woman, a failure—whose aspirations and admirations are grandiose, and dillusional. Now I'm even more delusional. I thought, for a moment that Sonny might be in love with me. In honesty? Sometimes I still think that. I actually still believe that. So why this approach? I'm partially convinced he was paid to ‘finish the job', so to speak. I was already suicidal, and, fresh out of the hospital on the attempt to end my life that failed, again. So this would do it—make me hope and believe I could be something, someone, anyone—that I could be anything—even a superstar DJ-turned-future President. I'm a fucking joke. Someone, who could have anyone—in love with me? Maybe this is why people sneak into tents at music festivals: They don't love you— They just want to fuck. DAY 1: MAY 1ST, 2020; If I am offered dinner, will eat--but if not, will continue forward. Will set an alarm for 3:30 AM once roommate has gone to bed to check for his keys. Everyone gets their own suicide letter. Mom Dad Bearr Annie Yesenia Sonny (just leave it to Annie w/ his rock && burn book) Let everybody know it's not their fault. Reasons: 1. Fat 2. Ugly 3. Black 4. Poor 5. Unsuccessful 6. Friendless 7. No Charisma 8. Single I don't know why I numbered them. Do you really need more than one reason to kill yourself? (no.) I believe i”ve started the fast that I was asked. Be it that I have, the date is May 1st, 2020--however, I've been wondering if my roommate leaves the keys to his car in an accessible place; I'm kind of hoping so. I'm already craving to eat, and the first 24 hours have yet to pass. Again, i'm always given the open to keep this date and continue forward, so long that I eat before midnight--however, nothing seems like the right answer; The matter of fasting has become a damned-if-I-do, damned-if-I-don't matter...it seems that everything I do is ‘wrong', though right-and-wrong are subjective, and multidimensionally, objective, even. I probably might have been dead by now, if my car battery hadn't died...it seems like the easiest and least painful way; something easy and quiet. I've thought about sharpening a knife, just to cut and let [myself] bleed out at the wrist--but then, I fear that I may panic and that my mind would fight to survive. I've thought about hanging from one of my favorite trees-- but haven't the money left to buy any rope--which, perhaps, I could steal--but to steal enough rope to hang myself with on foot? A tricky task, to say the least. So, really, some of me is hoping my roommate leaves his keys out. At first, the thought of committing my suicide here was unsettling. My roommate, Satan's personal favorite vehicle and overall negative void of a ‘person' (or vampire, honestly), is a drama Queen--he needs not only conflict and drama to survive, but fiends for it; something in me had somehow become too proud to give him something to girlishly blabber about with his narcissistic, simple friends--I can already hear the repetitive exclamations of “horror” that would more-than-likely delight him as he recounts the story of finding my body, over-and-over...at first it rather haunted me, and now i've come to peace with--bargaining that having him find my body would be something of a statement, which wordlessly reads “sticks and stones may break my bones but words got up and killed me.” Words. Little words. Big Words. Actions. Gestures. If it's negative, I can feel it in my body, before it even happens; If it's positive, it can leave me radiating for days on end, and without a care. My “living situation” has been nothing more than a prolonging of my already disastrously failed and predominately miserable life. A mentally-ill and often psychotic mother, followed by a too- young marriage to a dynamically similar person, has left me up Shit's creek with no boat; I'm pushing 30 with no significant other, and no significance at all. There are generations of perfect people, fresh out of high school--who can and will do everything I ever thought possible or imaginable, better than me. And it's my fault. NO ENTRY ON DAY 2. Gave Myself A “Skrillex” haircut. Wow. Fuck my life. DAY 3: The fast will end today, more than likely. I am overwhelmed with grief, at loss for motivation, and struggling to believe there is any positive outcome to anything I do. I'm already getting headaches, and acute hunger pains--usually these things don't happen until well after the third day. I suppose my body is telli

united states god love jesus christ music women american fear time california live money black world president success social media trust english google babies hollywood starting apple spirit man los angeles technology lost body prayer las vegas media voice future space hell running energy real land living speaking sound west kingdom truth building practice walk thinking miami happiness dj chinese gold masters christianity depression government reading teaching heart fighting japanese turning elon musk devil spanish moon dance dc left dna holy drive leaving therapy satan write losing darkness mom open drop night fake twitch dive utah shame dead strange gods alive 3d ring aliens started poor toxic asian watching memories testing code protect dragon divine mexican monster sun nazis fall in love disasters run drugs attention reflecting balancing tree lack created witness beyonce planet stuck rain alaska standing oprah winfrey captain ocean curse mama hurt enemy sick childhood empathy danger birds praying heard apologies tough kiss boom beatles forgive shoes ugly eagles cops act protecting dancing debt origins cloud promises paradise flight fasting front lights nevada guilt monsters sing driven worse demons panic bills shit wood tiger ucla singing hang shooting michael jackson believing paying sitting suck native americans fill loneliness traditional wear honestly throw passing pokemon gotta paid ninjas silent worlds pack smoke library minds gps diving judas curiosity aftermath fuel b2b fuck intention emotion waste window rock and roll betrayal amen countdown died lonely bass deeper underground jungle grave releasing ascension bet expert mike tyson beating solid hates smell kim kardashian marijuana echo limited hiding methods ravens hanging crying superstar plans bitch leap baptist poison multiverse envy greed found zen sciences rivers paint joyful closed oasis coast shut purple absolute sad bots grass bought goddess aligning judging djs rape rocket trapped mainstream glow throwing mantra sober felt walks lizzo gov quien hawks thank god edm meditate shades nonsense decoding nah silly shorts mad singles armor robin williams omg billie eilish fin ignite lied ludwig van beethoven ducks yang george lucas lemon bus ranked ruined boosting decided makers lala cousin bare surf alarm myspace martyrs acid thc shrek touring bells bro whitney houston matt damon toxicity laying anarchy men in black closure goodnight watched djing makes rick and morty pit wandering burning man i love cigarettes blackrock upside heavens pyramid debating experimental collisions burnt tsa white supremacy malibu lay imperfection tied stunning barely bag mandarin bury bleeding sala goin betrayed two weeks ay glitch rocking lava cries abandonment tasty granny laid restless cree odd learned wet unreal crows likeness hershey good friends rotten pikachu drifting attached rewind philosophical yin blanket pin clique diplo robins chicken soup lucid sticks and stones unmasked kidd whoop northern lights emp dubstep lax auntie downside threaten attracted black magic skrillex mouths of course live nation vips trippin sleepless fins edc insomniacs carbohydrates delusions oh god manic bruh one world imitate unreleased silos choking time capsules energi aw charmed white supremacists chance the rapper pressed repression eskimos sweater fast forward electronic music somethings compression stocking delighted spirit animals raves watchful fetal gestures flashing synchronicities swallowed breadcrumbs code switching father time foxy rebuilt staple truth hurts ancient egyptians admiration lunacy randomly voiceless pave suess humpty dumpty save the date panicking killin deities kandi unsuccessful sparrows shhhh huevos daw ableton cherished grand prize dillon francis epitome laced synesthesia droughts time money butters reawakening rin supa piecing unexplainable lackey chainsaws repeats effing uhhh that guy blindly flatten white lights news channel excision medicine man will you givin stifle deafening chava symphonies festival season whispered skyy aight coughs big words sunn red blue phone home savin everything everything callous jungle fever jamies uuml alternately chala where do we go tin roof bangarang in la sprites dissociative hunny inwardly gasping hey dude scary monsters translucent this guy aloft no sympathy wonderous adventure club plain jane plur rezz sleepin losin xylophone female dj big drop liquidate electric daisy carnival romantically lost lands god on inciting incident central washington bloo disintegrate blindfolds hobo johnson ous windblown alerted all seeing eye iridescence abolishment owsla chiodos taunted look at drapery blue red lizzard too deep from first to last google university josh pan matt maeson steve erwin abbot kinney grand delusion wubs phoenixx rocket summer i died christ not levitated respect it ease my mind brostep sonny moore bass canyon allison wonderland dupstep

1/26 myTalk Loves Local: Aero Drapery & Blind -Debbie Miller

Lori & Julia

Play Episode Listen Later Jan 26, 2023 9:41

Debbie Miller joins Lori and Julia to talk about everything happening at Aero Drapery & Blind! Debbie is an Interior Design Consultant at Aero Drapery & Blind. Listen in and see how Aero Drapery & Blind can help you!

local blind loves aero drapery mytalk debbie miller

BCWA S6:E55 * FSPMA * On-Site Drapery Cleaners * Brad & Zane talk Cleaning for Fire Safety

BeyondCleanWithACE

Play Episode Listen Later Sep 12, 2022 14:26

During the first morning of the conference, these two guys stopped by to talk cleaning, DRAPES that is. We learn that vacuuming is not the best. Water makes them shrink. Dust is flammable. Listen to this and then stop by their booth to learn more, here at the FSPMA conference. Zane Neily: zane@truedryclean.com Website: https://www.onsitedraperycleaner.com/ "Remember to keep your journey healthy, positive, and proactive." Follow us on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, TikTok www.AcademyofCleaning.com Subscribe, like, share or comment on our YouTube channel at Academy of Cleaning. Subscribe to us here, on Apple Podcasts, or wherever you get your podcast from #BeyondCleanWithACE

water dust cleaning cleaners fire safety drapes drapery

Shawnee, KS Curtain & Drapery Store Offers Top Quality Soft Window Treatments

head soft offers curtain top quality drapery window treatments

Play Episode Listen Later Aug 29, 2022 2:54

Are you looking to inject some elegance and refinement into your home? Inside Solutions (913-890-3737) has updated its range of soft window treatment services to offer a range of drapery solutions that work as well as they look. Head over to https://insidesolutionsllc.com/curtains-drapery (https://insidesolutionsllc.com/curtains-drapery) today!

036: Leveling up your Interior Design services with custom window treatments and soft goods

Bewitching the Home

Play Episode Listen Later Jul 19, 2022 53:46

Linda Pastor Hodnett, the owner of Stitch Studio and Le Domicile Design, joins me on this episode to talk about her experience in the design industry and how she came to work with soft goods. Stitch Studio (formerly Janie's Draperies) is a resource I've been using since my early days in the industry, and in our conversation, we cover why it is so important to have someone like Linda who will be honest with you about what will and won't work. She also explains more in depth what soft goods are, what they do for a space, and how she collaborates with designers to create truly beautiful pieces that clients will love. Guest Bio Stitch Studio originates from the 25 year legacy that was Janie's Draperies. Purchasing the drapery workroom in the summer of 2018, Linda Pastor Hodnett, an A.S.I.D interior designer with over 30 years in the design industry, wanted to create the soft goods workroom she's always dreamed of. A studio for designers, by a designer. A one stop designer's resource for custom interior soft goods in San Diego. Featured in this episode Featured candle: Beeswax candle fromhttps://www.mithrascandle.com/ ( Mithras Candle) Featured brews: https://www.romaespresso.com/ (Roma Espresso) Green juice from https://pressed.com/ (pressed) https://msperception.co/product/sage-infused-full-spectrum-cbd-oil/ (Cleanse CBD Oil Tincture) from MsPerception Featured Tarot deck: https://angelamarymagick.com/product/moon-bb-magick-tarot-deck-3rd-edition/ (Moon BB Magick Tarot) by Angela Mary Magick Connect with Linda Links: https://www.stitchstudiosd.com/ (Stitch Studio Website) https://www.instagram.com/stitchstudiosd/ (Stitch Studio Instagram) https://www.ledomiciledesign.com/ (Le Domicile Design Website) https://my.captivate.fm/dashboard/podcast/734a0095-2a6f-4646-91aa-e20197c5bb7a/episode#:~:text=https%3A//www.instagram.com/ledomicileinteriors/ (Le Domicile Design Instagram) Introducing my new membership program, thehttps://bewitching.txfunnel.com/ ( Design Coven)! This program is a real-world industry mentorship for Holistic Interior Designers that has everything you won't find in traditional design school curriculum. You'll learn from practicing interior designers working on real life projects, and get access to cutting edge vendors, suppliers, furniture makers, textile designers, and design resources that I've curated over my 17 years of design experience. As a member, you'll have the opportunity to build valuable relationships of your own. https://bewitching.txfunnel.com/ (Learn more). Connect with Rachel Larraine https://www.rachellarraine.com/ (Website) https://www.instagram.com/rachellarraine/ (Instagram) https://www.patreon.com/Bewitching (Patreon) https://crawfordpallini.com (Interior Design Services)

san diego soft goods purchasing interior design leveling up beeswax design services drapery window treatments

S02 E40 | Martin Tyler's It's Alive, The Quadruple Loople & The Mark Drapery

Footballland

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 21, 2022 39:24

Greetings Footballland Earholders!Well, we must apologise again, not sure to who, but to somebody for sure... Yes we've failed, yet again, to break ground on Footballland but we're not really worried because it's all sand and sand is dead easy to dig so, you know... In other news Anthony is having a lovely time in Hawaii as he makes his way "the other way" around the world back from Tuvalu, so as not to lose a day AND then there's the small matter of coming up with three excellent new rides too:The Quadruple LoopleMark pitches the impossible, which we thought had been done before on Footballland but this time it's really impossible, it's a ride that recreates all the hype and all the reality of an English club trying to complete the quadruple. (Community Shield excluded, T&Cs apply).It's AliveAnthony suggests an alternate use for Martin Tyler: mad scientist. What better way to celebrate the history of football than to take one of the most famous catchphrases of recent years and add a letter? Join Martin for some Frankenstein-ish goings on, oh and some snooker too.The Mark DraperyIf you're going bring your antiques to Qatar to get polish by Juan Sebastian Veron then you might as well get your soft furnishing whipped up too, right? Well at least Ryan thinks so. (Bloody interns!!)Don't forget to send us your ride ideas and lots of love!With love from,Anthony Richardson (Footballland CEO)Mark Davison (Lord Sir Chief Ride Engineer)Ryan Baxter (Intern)Support this show http://supporter.acast.com/footballland. See acast.com/privacy for privacy and opt-out information.

english hawaii alive qatar frankenstein bloody cs quadruple community shield tuvalu martin tyler drapery

Windows of Opportunity

Madame After Midnight

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 7, 2022 59:50

Do you want them to peek in when you're naked? Or not? Our guest was born and raised on Maui and is the 3rd generation in the family working under the “Naka's” name. Grandfather, Katsuji, started Naka's Draperies & Furnishings in the mid-1950's and his father continued with Naka's Carpet and Drapery in the early 80 's. Now Bobby Nakamura is continuing the tradition of the Naka's name. You can call him to custom design window coverings so your neighbors don't see you running around naked in your home and disturb the peace. Also - Bobby spent $19,000 of his own money to purchase 14,000 N95 face masks to ensure that nurses, police, prison correctional officers and others on the front lines of the coronavirus had extra needed protection during the early months of the pandemic…. He finds many windows of opportunity to help and get many of us covered. ❤️

opportunities windows maui grandfather carpet n95 naka furnishings drapery

Get Custom Woven Wood Blinds, Shades & Drapery From Top Olathe, KS Provider

Decorate Like a Design Boss

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 20, 2022 2:26

Never settle for store-bought window fixtures! Go to https://insidesolutionsllc.com (https://insidesolutionsllc.com) or call 913-890-3737 to find out how Inside Solutions LLC can transform your home today.

wood shades provider woven blinds drapery olathe ks

44. 10 Simple Things People Do To Mess Up Their Home

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 29, 2022 22:21 Very Popular

Kimberly Grigg brings listeners a solo episode inspired by Dr. Laura Schlessinger's “Ten Stupid Things Women Do To Mess Up Their Lives” book title. Kimberly is sharing her knowledge and educating everyone on the 10 Simple Things People Do To Mess Up Their Homes. And she has expert advice on how everyday designers, like you listeners, can avoid these simple missteps in order to decorate like a pro. The 10 simple things to avoid to “make your home magical”, to quote Kimberly, are these:1) too much color, 2) not enough color, 3) too many picture frames, 4) too matchy-matchy, 5) no drapes, 6) drapes hung incorrectly, 7) souvenirs for accessories, 8) inappropriate scale, 9) incorrect artwork, and 10) not finishing. Don't worry if these design points sound difficult to fix! Kimberly goes through each one and details why it messes with your decor and, most importantly, how to amend it. She has easy explanations and vital advice on how to create fixes and avoid these faux pas. Jump into this episode knowing that at the end of it you will not only understand the 10 simple things to avoid, but you'll know why window treatments are important, what size of artwork works best with that new chair, and how to include color without it overwhelming the room. Your photos and accessories are all going to be taken care of in ways that assist you in living beautifully, which is what Kimberly dearly wants for everyone to experience. Resources discussed in this episode: “Ten Stupid Things Women Do To Mess Up Their Lives” by Dr. Laura Schlessinger Edith-Anne Duncan Decorate Like A Design Boss Episode 43: A Pop of Color with Edith-Anne Duncan -- Contact Me: Email me at kimberly@kimberlygriggdesigns.com Visit my website: www.kimberlygriggdesigns.com Follow me on Facebook, Instagram, Pinterest Check out my Youtube channel You can find the show on Apple Podcasts, Stitcher and Spotify. Transcription Kimberly Grigg 00:00 Welcome to Episode 44 of Decorate Like A Design Boss. This one is a good one, we'll be diving into the things that people do that mess up their homes. I want you to live beautifully. So please indulge me and listen up as I go through 10 simple things that you can avoid to make your home magical. Get ready. Here we go. Welcome to Decorate Like A Design Boss, a podcast for design lovers who want to create beautiful spaces in their very own homes. My name is Kimberly Grigg, and I'm a professional interior designer who teaches design lovers like yourselves how to decorate. And when I say decorate, I mean decorate like a design boss. If you're ready to create a space that your family loves and your neighbors can't stop raving about, well, buckle up honey, because it's time to design. Kimberly Grigg 01:07 Hello there design friends. So I've been interviewing a lot of great design guests lately. And I thought, well, maybe it's time to dive in to a solo episode on a topic that I tend to love. Quite a few years ago, Dr. Laura Schlessinger, a popular psychologist, a talk show host and an author, better known as simply Dr. Laura, wrote an interesting book called "10 Stupid Things Women Do To Mess Up Their Lives". Now I was a fan, especially of that book, and as Dr. Laura was publishing this book, I was this woman. We won't get into her 10 stupid things, but the title has always stuck with me because on a totally different level, I do spot 10 simple things that people do - and I don't mean stupid - but 10 simple things that people, not necessarily women, do to mess up their homes. So hence, Dr. Laura's book, while not quite old, even though I still recommend it as it was a juicy lifesaver for me at the time, the title just always grabbed me and prompted this episode. So let's get started. 10 things that people do to mess up their homes. Kimberly Grigg 02:41 Number one: too much color. You know, I'm a color girl. And if you've listened for a while and/or if you follow my weekly show, It's Time To Design which airs every Thursday at four on Kimberly Grigg Designs Facebook page, then you know that I've been preaching that you should decorate with color. But to be successful, you'll want to limit your color palette. Sometimes the love of color can go wacky. Here's a better way to think about it: choose three colors that work well together. Choose one to be the main, another to be the supporting actor, and the final is just an accent. You can carry this theme throughout the main parts of your home and you will end up with a harmonious space that works very well together. I recently interviewed Edith-Anne Duncan and I discussed this in detail in Episode 43. Go back, take a listen if you haven't already, but the gist of the conversation is that you need to carry this palette, these three colors, throughout your spaces, but you vary the hero, the supporting actress, and the shining star in various degrees to keep each room from becoming the same. I also tend to throw in that fourth shazam. But again, I do have a daily practice and I am a professional. So if you feel very competent, you can throw a few shazams, but they can come in the form of, as mine typically do, as another color represented in artwork, as another color represented in some small way. And it just continues to layer the palette. But if you use the simple rule of three, I assure you, you will get results that tend to work, work together, and create a very harmonious space Kimberly Grigg 05:00 The second faux pas that I'm going to mention is actually the opposite of too much color, and it's not enough color. This all white theme that is trending right now is beautiful, especially in the Pinterest pictures and on Instagram, but trust me, most of those spaces are well lit, or the photos are put through a photo app that can alter the actual state of the space. Having decorated my fair share of white spaces in the last few years, I am a fair activist for this scheme. But I have to say, most people forget about inserting subtle color and most people forget about how important the use of texture is in an all white space. And in fact, this use of texture actually ends up coming off as a color in and of itself. Yes, white works if you love it, not if you're just following the trend, forget about it. But it's super important to insert texture, and unexpected items such as art that carry a punch, a little more color, even if it's subtle, or perhaps it's a cognac sofa or a mustard pillow. Just remember, the same applies with a white palette as in any palette. It's still three colors, even if they are just shades of white. Kimberly Grigg 06:34 Alright, number three is not only a faux pas, but it's also a pet peeve of mine. And it's something that I immediately change when I'm called to work in someone's home. It is simply too many picture frames: photo frames placed everywhere doesn't make a home a home, even if being surrounded by things that you value. It does seem to matter to you, if you do employ this technique, that your house feels like a home. But instead invest in beautiful accessories and artwork that is gorgeous and it speaks to you. Purchase no more than three frames per room and make them no less than size 8 by 10. Now if you're doing a photo gallery wall, this doesn't apply. But I'm talking about all those little bitty frames that you put on bookshelves and you put everywhere and they're on every surface, and they've got these little bitty pictures inside of them. I am telling you: stop. Get gorgeous frames and don't settle for cheapies at Home Goods - sorry Home Goods, no offense - I do buy frames there, but I buy big ones, and I buy gorgeous ones, or I don't buy them at all. Instead, opt for the creme de la creme and have photos in them that are sizable, no less than eight by 10. And that have an image that you can clearly see. Hint, no snap shots, please. Kimberly Grigg 08:20 This moves us on to faux pas number four: too matchy-matchy. You don't need suits of furniture any longer. You instead need furniture that blends and creates a story, than the suits in your home, by mixing them up, paint some of them, or purchase new items. Blend it. A blended home is a more casual home and actually comes off as a more interesting space. Kimberly Grigg 08:55 Number five: no drapes. Nothing pulls together a home better and faster than drapery. Yes, even if you have blinds and shades and a view, you're treating a window in a decorative way. In fact, you're not really necessarily treating the window, even though they're called window treatments, you're treating the walls beside the window. Blinds and shades behave in a functional way. Drapery and window treatments behave in a decorative way. They soften a space and they add a more polished look overall and in general. If you want your home to look finished, then you need drapery. Kimberly Grigg 09:50 Number six: drapes hung incorrectly, as in directly above the window frame. I can't say enough about this. If you're not going to do drapes correctly, then don't bother. If you're going to have drapery, then invest in the proper length. Go all the way up about one to two inches under the crown. Yes, that high. If you don't have crown, then one to two inches right where the ceiling begins. If you place them right above the window frame, you're destroying the whole look. So raise them up, all the way up, and consider custom drapes in this case or a high quality lined drapery that is the proper length. Do not use unlined drapes unless you're using a sheer drapery. And do not, please, use a rod pocket. This all cheapens the whole aspect of why drapery does for you what it does. So I recently was at my oldest son's house, and my kids have been surrounded by some really pretty things growing up with a design mom, and I walked into the nursery and I knew, I knew that his wife was going to cringe because she could tell what I was thinking. So on a whim, they kind of waited to the last minute to decorate their nursery, and one summer he actually hung window treatments for me professionally. And he knows, really knows, better than this. But I walk into this nursery and what has he done, he has gone and bought ready made drapery. They were not rod pocketed, I'm happy to say. They were grommeted. But he hung those drapes one inch above the window frame. Alright, I had a really hard time with this. I was trying to be a good mom and I was trying not to interfere. But I'm just telling you, I couldn't stand it. Those drapes were too short to raise up that high. They bought them on a whim, they should have taken their time and carefully planned this. I mean, after all, I do have custom work rooms, I could have helped here. But I'm telling you what a difference when those drapes went up high - new drapes, actually - what a difference this made in the overall success of the space. Kimberly Grigg 12:27 Now we're already up to number seven. And number seven is souvenirs for accessories. This is tricky. I love a well traveled look but keep in mind your style. If you go to Africa, and nothing in your home has this slant, well, you might want to really consider what your African memory is going to look like in your space. If you collect shot glasses, well unless you have hidden unlimited space in your bar, then stop please. These are not accessories unless you think of a creative way to house and display them such as put them all together, put seven of them together on a beautiful glass tray. Something like that is certainly acceptable. But just having a bunch of things that you've collected as you travel sitting on bookshelves and all around your house. Well, those are not accessories, they're souvenirs. One way that you can treat traveling and collecting is by creating photo books or photo boxes. You know, we've gotten away from creating photo books and photo albums since we all have our phones, but you know, wasn't it great when you could sit with someone on the sofa and you could look through a photo book? I say, bring that tradition back, bring it back into your home. You can store them in shelves or whatever, or cabinets, and you can pull them out when appropriate. But having your photos in a book, or making a book - those are fairly easy to do now with graphics - this allows you to collect the memories, which is what is important to you, and not necessarily save silly small paraphernalia. Kimberly Grigg 14:30 Well, speaking of small, number eight is all about inappropriate scale. Most people don't understand scale, and, quite frankly, why would they? If you're ever considering a design consultation, then scale is the very best reason to do so. Even a lot of designers don't understand scale and I have to say one of the reasons I do, is I used to decorate hotels ballrooms professionally. And I had to take the same set of props in and out of different ballrooms that had different ceiling heights, and were different sizes. You learn really quickly what you have to do and how you have to adjust to make that set of prompts be as impactful in a large ballroom as it was, or is, in a small one. This taught me so much about scale. But in general, most people can go larger than smaller, but they don't believe they can. I can't tell you how many times I've shown a client a light fixture or an accessory and they say, what, no way is that going to work in my house, that's way too big. But when I end up taking it to their house, it's like, you were right, I get it. So scale is about 14 lessons long. And I can't present all 14 here. But getting scale wrong will throw everything in the space off. So here are a few simple tips that you can remember about scale. If you have tall ceilings, you need tall items. If you have a spacious room, you need items that have volume or have weight. Here's where it gets tricky: even if you have a small room, consider larger furniture pieces. It's a huge deception, but oversized items in a small room is actually a big win. Again, scale is complicated, but it's very important. This is one of the number one things that will ruin a room moreso than anything else. Kimberly Grigg 16:54 Number nine: incorrect artwork. So people either purchase artwork that is too small, or they hang it too high or too low or not cohesively. Or, a piece - this is not that common, but it does happen - a piece that is too large for the piece of furniture that might be sitting underneath it. The piece of art should be smaller than the piece sitting under it. But there should be a relationship in terms of scale. So here's a few tips that you can use to get artwork right. Number one: hang artwork at eye level. Number two: scale your artwork correctly, probably go larger than you think but not larger than the piece of furniture that is underneath it. Number three: when you have a piece, as an art, that is too small, consider a grouping. Number four: make your groupings fairly cohesive either by way of frame choices or subject choices. Number five: abstract art works well in most settings. And number six, in this little artwork section: let your artwork create its own magic. It's a starting point. It's also a great finisher. Kimberly Grigg 18:17 Okay, now we're nearing the end of the 10 simple things that people do to mess up their homes. And number 10 is not finishing. So I've seen so many people get a new home, get started with the decorating process, get a little overwhelmed. And the next thing I know they are living on "Someday Isle" - Isle being short for island and being short for "someday I'll get around to it". Someday I'll accessorize my home. Someday I'll decorate when my kids are older. Someday I'll get window treatments. Someday I'll accessorize. Get rid of Someday Isle. No matter what it takes, if you don't feel confident enough and skilled enough, then hire someone to help you. Start today. Take it on. You can decorate and you can decorate successfully, but again, if you don't feel confident, don't put off until the day that you feel more confident. It's never coming. Instead, hire someone to walk beside you to get you through this. But most importantly, live beautiful. You need to jumpstart your way to a beautiful decor. Or, if you need to take a look at these top 10 mistakes, well do so. Do it honestly. And don't be embarrassed. I've seen this over and over, I see it day in and day out. You're not alone. Now you know things and now you are armed with knowing what to do. So let's fix it. You deserve to live beautifully. You've heard all of these guests who come on my show and they all believe it is possible for everyday normal people to be able to decorate their homes. They also believe that it's important to do so. And I believe all of this so wholeheartedly that I continue to show up for you. And I continue to strive to think of ways to help you accomplish your dreams of being a better decorator. I'll tell you, it does take a lot of practice and a lot of trial and error. It also takes a good dose of learning to trust yourself. You've got this and now you have some good information. And if you are making these decorating faux pas, well, then it's okay. Just correct and realign with your newfound information. In addition, if there are things here that you would like to learn about, all you have to do is drop me an email or even drop in a review, and let me know what it is that you need and how you're responding to all of this information. Or, if you need a consultation, then I'm ready for you. You just simply hop online at KimberlyGriggDesigns.com, and book a consult that is appropriate for your needs. And while you're here, how about rate, review, and subscribe or follow our show. We'd love to know how you feel about it. And most importantly, please share our show with a friend who comes to mind who might benefit and enjoy it. I thank you so much for being here and I'll be back next time but for now, you know what I like to say: don't wait. Today is a great day to decorate. Bye for now. Kimberly Grigg 22:09 Thanks for listening to Decorate Like A Design Boss. If you want more info on how to decorate your space like a pro, visit KimberlyGriggDesigns.com. See you next week.

spotify africa african pop color jump pinterest stitcher hint blend transcription simple things mess up blinds home goods drapery laura schlessinger someday isle pinterest check

EP #688: G & L Drapery & Upholstery Shop with Julie Blanchette

Good Neighbor Podcast

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 25, 2022 11:23

What Makes G & L Drapery & Upholstery Shop a Good Neighbor...At G&L Drapery/Upholstery Shop, our passion is creating stunning drapery treatments and upholstery items to bring style to any room.With over 20 years of experience, our design experts have been helping Naples residents with all of their drapery and upholstery needs. Through exceptional work and superior dedication to our clients, we have become the premier design firm that we are today. Our passion is providing you with top level products and services and we offer complete satisfaction.Our expert design professionals are ready to get started on your project!To learn more about G & L Drapery & Upholstery Shop, go to: https://gnldraperyshopinc.com/G & L Drapery & Upholstery Shop5767 SHIRLEY STREETNAPLES, FL, 34109239.596.5550Support the show

shop naples good neighbors blanchette upholstery drapery

#451: Dry Crackers in Monochromatic Drapery

Super Hero Speak

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 23, 2022 133:54

In this episode the guys discuss the film Blade 2, is itRead More The post #451: Dry Crackers in Monochromatic Drapery appeared first on Super Hero Speak.

blade layer crackers drapery monochromatic viewbox super hero speak

MyTalk Loves Local: Aero Drapery & Blind

Lori & Julia

Play Episode Listen Later Jan 24, 2022 8:48

Deb Miller from Aero Drapery & Blind joins Lori and Julia!

local celebrities blind loves pop culture aero drapery mytalk mytalk 107.1 donny love lori & julia

Episode - 080 - Brackets, Fountains, Drapery...Oh My! (2021)

Conejo Valley Advice Givers Podcast

Play Episode Listen Later Dec 2, 2021 4:06

Did you know there is a ton of stuff that is included in your home when you sell it? Of course the stuff that's attached, like sinks, flooring, etc. But what about wall mounted TV's? Or the brackets that hold them? What about those amazing drapes and light fixtures? Listen in so you don't get surprised. Jay Lieberman Lieberman Realty Group, Inc. Keller Williams Realty World Class DRE#01874717 jay@LiebermanRealtyGroup.com

tv brackets fountains drapery

Drapery | The Next Level

Dear Alice | Interior Design

Play Episode Listen Later Sep 16, 2021 32:07

We've already done an episode on drapery, but we felt like since we've had so many more questions on drapery recently we would go into more detail on this subject. There are different places to use different patterns and tones of saturation. We do a lot of the light linen when you're trying to create a softness and draw less attention to those windows, kind of like nice background music. Every time we've done a pattern, it matches the personality of the people that live there and they love it because it just feels so them. People typically think if they have shutters, then they don't need drapes, but shutters typically just block out light and the view, whereas drapes typically hang out on the sides to provide aesthetics. The best way to add drapery around an old school sliding glass patio door 3:24When do I use pattern on drapes? 7:54How often do I change my drapes? 13:54Budget 16:02How to do drapery on an arched window 20:13Are there rooms to cut costs in? 25:13“Mine are kind of a neutral field of off white, and then they have black brushstroke faces, outlines of faces on them. They feel kind of Roman, like Roman faces and the hair is just wiggly lines and it's really a loose interpretation, and it makes the space feel very, sort of modern, which I love and gives it this personality and I feel like I have artwork for drapes.” 9:42https://www.instagram.com/alicelaneinteriors/https://www.instagram.com/alicelanehome/https://alicelanehome.com/https://www.facebook.com/AliceLaneHomehttps://www.pinterest.com/alicelanehome/https://www.youtube.com/alicelanehomecollectionsaltlakecityNews Letter:https://manage.kmail-lists.com/subscriptions/subscribe?a=HZENWY&g=PFcqV5

art design mine designers next level furniture drapery

Lindsey Kurowski & Stacey Gilfillan - Inn The Works

Sew & So...

Play Episode Listen Later Sep 16, 2021 54:10

As we begin our casual conversation with Lindsey and Stacey, we learn that Lindsey has four full-time jobs, which doesn't leave much time for sewing. Lucky for her, Lindsey's mom Stacey comes from a long line of sewists and has been an avid quilter since 1991. The two share a charming story about an heirloom quilt Stacey made Lindsay for her 30th birthday; a quilt her dog soon discovered. After taking a few deep breaths, Stacey patched the corner and embroidered, “Finn was here,” creating an additional layer of fond memories.As the conversation continues, we learn that Lindsey took her life savings to buy an abandoned lodge and renovate it. Her friend Mark, a TV developer, made a reel about it; that one reel caught the attention of Chip and Joanna Gaines, which is how she ended up with a show on Magnolia Network. She talks about the fun and the challenges of renovation TV and attributes her success to her amazing team, which she brought with her from Knotty Pine. (15:19-22:00) Lindsey places a high value on aesthetics and customization, which is why she also reached out to her mom. Stacey shares that when she got the call, she and her husband drove their 30-foot RV, “Elvira” out to California. Thinking she'd just be there to make one set of curtains for one show, she only brought along a few clothes, her BERNINA® 550, and a handful of supplies. The director was so impressed with her work, he asked her to stay on for the remaining five episodes. (24:25-28:19) She'll also be bringing her expertise to season two of Inn the Works. In addition to working on the show, Stacey is part of an active quilting community in Texas, where she is doing some amazing work and educating people about the true monetary value of quilts. She also shares some surprising statistics about the quilting industry. ( 31:04 -38:30) As the conversation continues, Lindsey reflects, “I'm just trying to take a moment like Ferris Bueller and take a look around, because it all happens fast.” As Lindsey and Stacey head off to renovate an abandoned 42-room motel in the Berkshires, you can kick back and tune into the podcast to hear more about their fascinating adventures. You can contact Lindsey via Instagram @lindseykurowski, and at knottypine.co; you'll find Stacey on Instagram @stazzinaro or by emailing stazzinaro@gmail.com

Mytalk Loves Local: Debbie Miller joins the show to talk about Aero Drapery & Blind.

Lori & Julia

Play Episode Listen Later Aug 17, 2021

webmaster@mytalk1071.com5f8797e7-ffa2-4732-87a7-691ff5283e31

local celebrities blind loves pop culture aero drapery mytalk debbie miller mytalk 107.1 donny love lori & julia

95: Cincinnati Chamber Orchestra with Eckart Preu

Art Palace

Play Episode Listen Later Jul 19, 2021 40:27

Eckart Preu, Music Director of the Cincinnati Chamber Orchestra joins us to talk about their upcoming concert, Women in Musik which will take place on August 20, 8:00 p.m. at Eden Park's Seasongood Pavillion. We also take a look at works by women artists, Elisabeth Louise Vigée Lebrun and Karen LaMonte Cincinnati Chamber Orchestra: https://www.ccocincinnati.org/ View the Artworks: Elisabeth Louise Vigée Lebrun's Portrait of a Young Woman Playing a Lyre: https://cincinnatiartmuseum.org/art/explore-the-collection?id=20842804 Karen Lamonte's Seated Dress with Impression of Drapery: https://cincinnatiartmuseum.org/art/explore-the-collection?id=18418845 For more info and other programs, visit: www.cincinnatiartmuseum.org Theme song: Offrande Musicale by Bacalao Take our survey: bit.ly/ArtPalaceSurvey "

women musik portrait orchestras impression music directors preu lebrun eckart lyre eden park chamber orchestra drapery cincinnati chamber

53 - Around the Corner: Drapery Edition

The Sew Much More Podcast: 30 Minutes With Workroom Tech

Play Episode Listen Later Jul 14, 2021 39:10

See more about today's topic on Susan's Workroom Tech Blog. 30 Minutes with Workroom Tech is brought to you by Workroom Tech You can contact Susan at susan@workroomtech.com and Ceil at ceilwdi@gmail.com Links and Resources; (I sometimes use affiliate links and may be paid for using them. I am grateful if you choose to use them.) Singer Sewing Custom Curtains, Shades and Top Treatments 30 Minutes with WT Episode 6: Smiling Draperies 30 Minutes with WT Episode 16: Fabric Banding Drapery & Design Professional magazine, Vol. 2010, Issue 1 English Panel Method CHF Magazine, Nov/Dec 2007, Ruffled Panel Link to our Youtube recording

vol shades nov dec drapery

Ep02 - The Trades Podcast - Bob Sole - Express Blinds & More

The Trades

Play Episode Listen Later Jul 9, 2021 21:13

Picking the mind of one the best salesman in the trades industry, Bob Sole, with Express Blinds, Draperies, Shutters & More! "The Best 'Blind' Date You'll Ever Have!"Are you looking to get ahold of Bob Sole and or find hiring opportunities within his company or industry? Feel free to contact Bob and his team at the info provided below. (619) 461-2101https://www.facebook.com/shopexpressblindshttps://www.yelp.com/biz/express-blinds-draperies-and-shutters-san-diego-5https://www.linkedin.com/company/express-blinds-draperies-and-shutters/about/

business education entrepreneurship picking express trades sole technician blinds drapery ever have date you

Design Your Own Curtains And Drapery With This Olathe KS Customization Service

service design curtains customization drapery olathe ks

Play Episode Listen Later Jul 7, 2021 2:39

Need help finding window treatments that will suit your home's existing decor? The custom design specialists at Inside Solutions LLC can help you create the drapes, curtains, or shutters of your dreams! Go to https://insidesolutionsllc.com (https://insidesolutionsllc.com) for more details.

Ballymote remembers the late Kathleen Coen Reynolds

OceanFM Ireland

Play Episode Listen Later May 5, 2021 4:58

Martin McGettrick of McGettrick's Drapery in Ballymote has been remembering Kathleen Reynolds, formerly Kathleen Coen, who worked there when she first met Albert Reynolds. The wife of the former Taoiseach died yesterday morning, but always kept in touch with her Ballymote roots

reynolds remembers taoiseach drapery

Rogue Radios, Hellish Screams & Deadly Drapery - Welcome to Russia

Pineapple Pizza Podcast

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 21, 2021 43:47

This week, Lindsay serves up another variety platter of truly terrifying tales from Mother Russia. From the unusual and abandoned numbers station, to the deepest hole on Earth, our courses will conclude with a couple of drapes that will spell your doom should you purchase the wrong color.Podcast promo from For Nerds By Nerds Podcast https://linktr.ee/FNBNPodcast (https://linktr.ee/FNBNPodcast)To stay on top of all the latest from Pineapple Pizza Podcast, be sure to check out our website at http://www.pineapplepizzapodcast.com (www.pineapplepizzapodcast.com) where you will find links to merch, Patreon and a variety of ways to support the show, as well as detailed episode descriptions and regional specials. Help our show grow by leaving us a review on Apple Podcasts at https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/pineapple-pizza-podcast/id1543640038 (https://podcasts.apple.com/us/podcast/pineapple-pizza-podcast/id1543640038)Or on Podchaser at https://www.podchaser.com/podcasts/pineapple-pizza-podcast-1568165 (https://www.podchaser.com/podcasts/pineapple-pizza-podcast-1568165)You can also send mail to: Pineapple Pizza PodcastPO Box 341Wyoming, MN 55092Remember, no matter how you slice it, you're awesome and we love you.Sources:https://theculturetrip.com/europe/russia/articles/8-russian-urban-legends-and-conspiracy-theories-that-are-still-alive-and-well/ (https://theculturetrip.com/europe/russia/articles/8-russian-urban-legends-and-conspiracy-theories-that-are-still-alive-and-well/)https://mysteriousuniverse.org/2017/08/mysterious-russian-ghost-radio-station-defies-explanation/ (https://mysteriousuniverse.org/2017/08/mysterious-russian-ghost-radio-station-defies-explanation/)https://www.wired.com/2011/09/ff-uvb76/ (https://www.wired.com/2011/09/ff-uvb76/)https://www.numbers-stations.com/military/russia/the-buzzer/ (https://www.numbers-stations.com/military/russia/the-buzzer/)https://www.rbth.com/lifestyle/331217-scary-soviet-urban-legends (https://www.rbth.com/lifestyle/331217-scary-soviet-urban-legends)https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Well_to_Hell_hoax (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Well_to_Hell_hoax)https://medium.com/lessons-from-history/the-fascinating-story-of-the-russian-well-to-hell-fe8942e414d3 (https://medium.com/lessons-from-history/the-fascinating-story-of-the-russian-well-to-hell-fe8942e414d3)https://www.thesun.co.uk/tech/9786114/worlds-deepest-hole-well-to-hell/ (https://www.thesun.co.uk/tech/9786114/worlds-deepest-hole-well-to-hell/)https://nypost.com/2019/08/27/worlds-deepest-man-made-hole-dubbed-well-to-hell-plunges-40000-feet/ (https://nypost.com/2019/08/27/worlds-deepest-man-made-hole-dubbed-well-to-hell-plunges-40000-feet/)https://www.rbth.com/science-and-tech/330958-russia-kola-borehole-deepest-hole (https://www.rbth.com/science-and-tech/330958-russia-kola-borehole-deepest-hole)https://www.urbo.com/content/the-fascinating-truth-behind-the-well-to-hell-hoax/ (https://www.urbo.com/content/the-fascinating-truth-behind-the-well-to-hell-hoax/)https://learnrussianlanguage.net/most-popular-urban-legends-in-russia-that-still-being-told (https://learnrussianlanguage.net/most-popular-urban-legends-in-russia-that-still-being-told)https://www.calvertjournal.com/articles/show/9177/soviet-scares-creep-yourself-out-halloween-with-these-ussr-urban-legends (https://www.calvertjournal.com/articles/show/9177/soviet-scares-creep-yourself-out-halloween-with-these-ussr-urban-legends)https://www.rbth.com/lifestyle/331217-scary-soviet-urban-legends (https://www.rbth.com/lifestyle/331217-scary-soviet-urban-legends)

earth hell russia deadly rogue screams podchaser radios hellish mother russia drapery

30. Don Drapery

Chica and The Boy

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 3, 2021

Listxn, wx'rx trying to bx progrxssivx hxrx, but it's xxtrxmxly hard to kxxp up with all thxsx rulxs! Twittxr: @shittyrambo, @danknotstank, old shows: http://bit.ly/CATB666

drapery

Cover Up Those Windows!

Home Design Chat with Nancy

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 24, 2021 29:01

The subject this week is Windows! Should we cover them or leave them naked? To answer that question and more, Nancy invited Tracy Doane, Certified Interior Designer specializing in Window Coverings to see what's in and what's out in the world of window treatments. Window Covering Options: Blinds, Shutters, Shades and Drapery. Shutters - Contemporary, Traditional & Transitional Wood shutters Composite shutters PVC shutters Colorful shutters Shades - Modern/Contemporary Honeycomb or Cell Shades. Roller Shades Roman Shades, Pirouette Shades Silhouette Shades. Window treatments in kitchens Roman shade or a shorter curtain makes sense. café curtains so that they’ll sit perfectly on the windowsill shades Be consistent consistency is important for a home to feel cohesive. use similar window treatments throughout the home window treatments need to fit the overall look and feel of the home. color of the window treatments should be consistent throughout the home. This podcast sponsored by Thermador Appliances February 24, 2021 email comments to Nancy@NancyHugo.com

traditional windows window shades cover up pvc composite shutters drapery

How to Build a Drapery Workroom from Day One

Profit Is A Choice

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 7, 2021 45:39

130: How to Build a Drapery Workroom from Day One with Julia Hash Julia Hash of JSH Designs in Raleigh, NC joins us today. Julia owns a full-service boutique drapery fabrication and design studio. She shares with us how her dream started in her attic, moved down to the main living space, then outside of her home. Listen in to the journey of entrepreneurship that Julia has taken, and continues to take to grow the business in a way that accentuates what she and her team do best. Topics Mentioned: Growth Hiring Expansion Processes Key Thoughts: I had gathered what I could gather, and I felt like I needed more; I needed community, I needed to talk to somebody, I needed to work through some things. Michele (5:47) I knew it was the right thing. I was just scared to do it. Julia (13:55) It's finding somebody who has those skills, that have the work ethic, that wants to come in and get the job done. Julia (29:23) Sometimes we underestimate how we solve problems for ourselves, and then others see it and want to use it too. Michele (40:42) Contact Michele: Email: Team@ScarletThreadConsulting.com Facebook: Scarlet Thread Consulting Instagram: @ScarletThreadATL Contact Julia: Website: jshdesigns.com Facebook: JSH Designs Instagram: @jshdesignsraleigh Email: julia@jshdesigns.com References and Resources: The Designers' Inner Circle - Become a Member Today

day one raleigh references drapery workroom member today

Fringes, Fine Wines and Draperies

Jenny and Ray at Home Podcast

Play Episode Listen Later Dec 28, 2020 36:43

fine wine fringes drapery

Scaling a Drapery Workroom

Profit Is A Choice

Play Episode Listen Later Dec 13, 2020 77:55

122: Scaling a Drapery Workroom with Tracie Bresnahan Joining me on the podcast today is Tracie Bresnahan of Custom Creations. Tracie owns a full service, turn-key, to-the-trade workroom supporting designers. Tracie is the President of the Window Coverings Association of America (WCAA) and she is sharing with us today some of her challenges in scaling a workroom. As you all know, these are the same challenges in many cases that we have no matter the business type. Listen in as we discuss changing locations, hiring, adding project management solutions, and the timing of it all. Topics Mentioned: Hiring Location Project Management Timing Key Thoughts: It forced me to get to know people. People that I knew would help my business. Tracie (08:05) Volunteering makes you determine what's really important, and only do that and do it better. Michele (10:51) Nice to know what you are evaluating against. Michele (31:23) Having the right butt in the right seat doing the right work. Michele (40:49) Go through a research phase of what technology works. Michele (59:51) Writing down and tweaking the things that you want to do better. Michele (01:15:08) Contact Michele: Email: Team@ScarletThreadConsulting.com Facebook: Scarlet Thread Consulting Instagram: @ScarletThreadATL Contact Tracie: Website: mycustomcreations.com Facebook: Custom Creations Instagram: @custom_creationstb Email: tracie@mycustomcreations.com References and Resources: The Designers' Inner Circle - Become a Member Today E-Myth Revisited - by Michael Gerber HIVE - Project Management Resource

president writing scaling references volunteering drapery workroom custom creations window coverings association

229 - Gillian Wendel - I Was Just Electrified!

streetwear drapery ready to wear yohji yamamoto

Play Episode Listen Later Nov 1, 2020 54:07

The Sew Much More Podcast is sponsored by; The Workroom Channel Scarlet Thread Consulting The WCAA Helser Brothers, Inc The Curtains and Soft Furnishings Resource Library Merril Y Landis, LTD Rekonstruktion - Fensterdekorationen Frankreich 1890 The Wendel Works, started in 1999, is a nationally recognized custom fabrication studio specializing in inspired window and bedding designs. Owner, Gillian Wendel, bring years of fine art and graphics experience to the business as well as drapery expertise. With a BFA from Texas Christian University, she makes sure that a well proportioned design is at the center of every project. Gillian has been a frequent speaker at the annual International Window Coverings Expo as well as teaching at the Custom Sewing Institute for 6 years, a hands on conference, where she illustrated such topics as details and embellishments, hand sewing and headboards. She is a three time winner of the IWCE Vision Ingenuity Contest, a member of The Drapery and Design Professional Network, and Past President of the Houston Area Custom Drapery Association. Her work was recently included in Charles Randall’s new book, Designer Window Fashions. Gillian is on Facebook and Instagram You can see her work here; www.picturetrail.com/wendelworks Links and Resources; I do use some affiliate links, so if you use them, I may make a little money, so I need to let you know this! Charles Randall's Designer Window Fashions is available from The Workroom Channel Rekonstruktion - Fensterdekorationen Frankreich 1890 The Art of Manipulating Fabric by Colette Wolff

art bfa past presidents curtains texas christian university wendel electrified drapery scarlet thread consulting wcaa

Ghosts

Bande à part

Play Episode Listen Later Oct 25, 2020 21:55

We discuss Pan & the Dream magazine’s new ghostly issue and wonder about the significance of hands in understanding portraits. See links below. Dub London: Bassline of a City, Museum of London (to 31 January 2020): https://www.museumoflondon.org.uk/museum-london/whats-on/exhibitions/dub-london Jilke Golbach, Dub Reggae Icons of London, Museum of London (29 July 2020): https://www.museumoflondon.org.uk/discover/dub-reggae-icons-london Pan & the Dream: https://www.panandthedream.com/ Rebecca Arnold, ‘Drapery, Fashion, Ghosts’ and ‘Jake Wood-Evans: Between Two Worlds’, Pan &the Dream, Issue 4: Pan’s ghost Stories (2020): https://www.panandthedream.com/products/pans-ghost-stories-issue-4 M.R. James, ‘”Oh, Whistle, and I'll Come to You, My Lad”’, Ghost Stories of an Antiquary (1904): https://gutenberg.ca/ebooks/jamesmr-ohwhistle/jamesmr-ohwhistle-00-h.html Jake Wood-Evans: https://www.jakewoodevans.com/ Deborah Turbeville: https://www.instagram.com/deborah_turbeville/ Benoit Delhomme: https://www.instagram.com/benoitdelhomme Wolfgang Tillmans, Faltenwurf (Cubitt Edition) (2000): https://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/tillmans-faltenwurf-cubitt-edition-p78405 Robert Howlett, Isambard Kingdom Brunel, National Portrait Galler (1857): https://www.npg.org.uk/collections/search/portrait/mw00867/Isambard-Kingdom-Brunel London Stereoscopic Company, Peter Jackson (1889): https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Peter_Jackson_(boxer)#/media/File:Peter_Jackson_boxer_1889.jpg Germaine Krull, Jean Cocteau, Museum of Modern Art (1929): https://www.moma.org/collection/works/51344 Neil Kenlock, Olive Morris, National Portrait Gallery (1973): https://www.npg.org.uk/collections/search/portrait/mw272120/Olive-Morris Fur coat, Museum of London (c. 1945): https://collections.museumoflondon.org.uk/online/object/82495.html James van der Zee, Lady with fur jacket, Howard Greenberg Gallery (1935): http://www.howardgreenberg.com/artists/james-van-der-zee

stories ghosts fashion museum ghost stories pan peter jackson whistle modern art zee national portrait gallery jean cocteau wolfgang tillmans drapery isambard kingdom brunel antiquary

Ready-to-wear, summer 2021: Streetwear or drapery?

Fashion

Play Episode Listen Later Oct 23, 2020 6:40

No one really knows what next summer will bring, but one thing's for sure. When it comes to ready-to-wear fashion, there's a choice between two standout trends: streetwear and drapery. Will the seductive volumes of Yohji Yamamoto carry the day, or will it be the often tongue-in-cheek style of Prune Goldschmidt? Or will it be a choice between the form-hugging creations of Malian-Senegalese designer Lamine Kouyaté and the relaxed "street couture" of Christelle Kocher? FRANCE 24 takes a closer look.

Episode - 12 - Aero Pacific Drapery

Berkley Local

Play Episode Listen Later Oct 14, 2020 28:31

Berkley Local is a podcast produced by the Berkley Chamber that profiles our amazing businesses in Berkley. In episode 12, we feature Mitchell Moses from Aero Pacific Drapery.

business michigan detroit pacific aero drapery

Nate Plummer: The role of the coach

Aspiring Artist Podcast

Play Episode Listen Later Aug 10, 2020 49:26

Nate Plummer is an internationally known actor’s coach whose clients appear upon on regional, national tour, and Broadway stages as well as in TV / film and national commercials. In 2015 he founded Stage Door Unlocked - an online actor training & resource business currently working with clients in 35 states and 8 countries. His e books and repertoire guides have sold all over the world and his workshops have over 5000 participants to date from all over North America. He is a contributing author to Full Voice Music’s Teacher’s Guide and is the resident production consultant and blogger for Grosh Backdrops and Drapery writing articles about directing and creating theatre in schools and community theatres. He is a frequent guest on numerous podcasts, serves as a clinician and adjudicator for several organizations around the country, and continues to actively direct theatrical productions around the Midwest. Mr. Plummer is a member of the National Association of Teachers of Singing, Musical Theatre Educators Alliance, The Voice Foundation, and is a proud member of the Stage Directors and Choreographers Society (the national stage director’s union.) More information can be found at: www.stagedoorunlocked.com Contact us here!https://linktr.ee/rachelsandlermusicFor podcast inquiries: aspiringartistpodcast@gmail.comFor music & lessons inquiries: rachelsandlermusic@gmail.com

tv guide coach north america teacher broadway teachers midwest singing national association comfor plummer drapery stage directors choreographers society

Anni Townend in Conversation with Abigail Petit, Founder of Abigail's Drapery

Leaders in Conversation with Anni Townend

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 25, 2020 28:13

Anni talks to Abi, Maker, Mender, Mentor and Mother about a rich career in textile engineering that took her from Bangladesh to Brussels to Brighton. They also discuss her passion for ethics and how Abi became a pioneer in bringing Fairtrade textiles to the British highstreet. Visit: abigailsdrapery.co.uk

founders conversations mother british mentor ethics maker brighton bangladesh brussels petit abi fair trade textile high street townend mender drapery

Episode 14: Gorp Gorp…Or…The Tamaranian Festival Of Berating Drapery

Mary and Andy Geek Out

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 21, 2020

In this episode of “Mary and Andy Geek Out” we finish Season 3 of Teen Titans and discuss episodes “Can I Keep Him,” “Bunny Raven…Or…How I Learned To Make A Titananimal Disappear,” and “Titans East” part 1 and 2. We talk about the lovely relationship between Starfire and Silkie, the cleverness of the Beast […]

festival beast teen titans starfire gorp berating silkie drapery

When are there too many moving parts? | Pairing Pattern with Patterns

Dear Alice | Interior Design

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 11, 2020 36:19

"In this episode of Dear Alice, we talk about patterns. Mixing patterns with patterns takes some effort and there is definitely an art to helping patterns work together so have dedicated an entire episode to it. We discuss matching patterns and colors, where to put patterns, maximalism, and what NOT to do.How to match patterns and colors 4:12Patterns in Drapery 14:48Maximalism/Studying 18:20What NOT to do 24:32 “If you are going to do something grand, pair it with something humble.” 14:43https://manage.kmail-lists.com/subscriptions/subscribe?a=HZENWY&g=HnpGxWhttps://www.instagram.com/alicelaneinteriors/https://www.instagram.com/alicelanehome/https://alicelanehome.com/https://www.facebook.com/AliceLaneHomehttps://www.pinterest.com/alicelanehome/https://www.youtube.com/alicelanehomecollectionsaltlakecity

art design designers patterns mixing furniture pairing moving parts drapery

39 - Drapery Questions

The Sew Much More Podcast: 30 Minutes With Workroom Tech

Play Episode Listen Later May 13, 2020 38:09

30 Minutes with Workroom Tech is brought to you by Workroom Tech See more about today's topic on Susan's Workroom Tech Blog. You can contact Susan at susan@workroomtech.com and Ceil at ceilwdi@gmail.com Links and Resources; Susan's Book - Sewing Custom Curtains, Shades and Top Treatments BluPrint Episode 3 - Understanding Fullness Episode 31 - Challenging Fabrics Episode 36 - Ann K. Johnson - Ripplefold Panels

shades drapery ann k johnson

Top of the Stretch - Nancy, Beth and Joe Yoder

Top of the Stretch

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 1, 2020 15:13

On this edition of Top of the Stretch, Ohio Harness Horsemen's Association Outreach and Public Relations Coordinator Frank Fraas talks with Nancy, Beth and Joe Yoder. Nancy Yoder owns Nancy's Draperies and with her daughter Beth they have transformed their business to make masks to help during the COVID-19 crisis. Joe Yoder is the Manager of Dublin Valley Farms and he talks about how things are at the farm.

stretch yoder drapery

Lachina Drapery and Blind Factory's Lisa Lachina

Marty Griffin and Wendy Bell

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 31, 2020 7:12

Lisa Lachina of Lachina Drapery and Blind Factory joins Marty to talk coronavirus and explains they are going to keep their factory open and help make masks for people. She wants to help out the community in whatever way possible.

blind lachina drapery

A Detail You Can't Overlook | Window Treatments

Dear Alice | Interior Design

Play Episode Listen Later Jan 23, 2020 33:47

In this episode of Dear Alice, we talk about window treatments. Treating the windows is the finishing touch to a room and it never quite feels put together until done so. Window treatments can be a large investment, considering the size of windows increasing, so we want you to get this right the first time. We talk about the options you have: Drapes, curtains, blinds, and shutters. We talk about what each will feel like, how each react to light, privacy levels, where you need window treatment, and where you could do without. Join us as we discuss what might be the missing thing linking your room together. Introduction 0:15Sheer Drapes 1:50Curtains, Blinds, or Shutters 3:57Blinds 11:17Do’s and Don’ts of Drapery 20:45 “If a panel and a beautiful window treatment is like mascara, I feel the shutter is a really bad false eyelash that’s falling off and just overwhelming the face.” 4:19https://www.instagram.com/alicelaneinteriors/https://www.instagram.com/alicelanehome/https://alicelanehome.com/https://www.facebook.com/AliceLaneHomehttps://www.pinterest.com/alicelanehome/https://www.youtube.com/alicelanehomecollectionsaltlakecity

art design designers window treating detail furniture overlook blinds shutters drapes drapery window treatments

177 - Kathy and Michelle Patterson - Mother Daughter Team

preparing scams furnaces blinds drapery

Play Episode Listen Later Nov 9, 2019 79:14

Kathy Patterson is the owner of Draperies by Kathy She started sewing for a designer 15 years ago and her daughter, Michelle has joined her in her business. Links and Resources; Michelle's Etsy Shop - This White Rabbit Co. The Custom Workroom Conference Kim Chagnon - Kim's Upholstery Ann K. Johnson's Workroom Skills Class Quiet - The Power of Introverts in a World That Can't Stop Talking Workroom Tech The Sew Much More Podcast is sponsored by; The Workroom Channel Scarlet Thread Consulting The WCAA Helser Brothers, Inc The Curtains and Soft Furnishings Resource Library

introverts curtains mother daughter drapery michelle patterson scarlet thread consulting wcaa ann k johnson

Ask BBB - Preparing Furnace for Winter, Choosing Blinds and Draperies and Recent scams #BBB # BBBWO

Ask BBB

Play Episode Listen Later Oct 21, 2019 21:38

24 - Buckram Fold Roman Shades

The Sew Much More Podcast: 30 Minutes With Workroom Tech

Play Episode Listen Later Sep 25, 2019 32:15

This method of making Roman Shades is for making a blackout shade without "pesky pinholes of light". I'm really looking forward to trying this method myself! Susan shows more about how to make this in her blog. Resources and Links; Susan's Article in Drapery and Design Digital Magazine

shades fold drapery

Episode #257 with Michele Williams - "Am I going to be in business or am I going to be a hobbyist?"

Rise Up For You

Play Episode Listen Later Sep 20, 2019 22:10

"Hello! I'm Michele, founder of Scarlet Thread Consulting, former soft treatment fabricator, and wife/mom always. I could tell you that I have a B.S. in Business Administration, but I'm just as proud of the diploma in Christian Life Coaching I earned through Light University. Additionally, I am one of the few certified Profit First coaches in the United States - and I am a creative on top of that! You see, I wasn't always a coach for interior designers and creative entrepreneurs. I wasn't even in the home industry at the beginning. I began my career in financial software development with Management Science America and Dun & Bradstreet Software. It may sound as if it was a boring experience, but I can assure you that the experience helped my tech, testing, and organizational skills truly blossom. I opened my soft furnishings company, The Scarlet Thread, in 2000. It was a welcome change of pace with challenges that any new business owner might face. In 2009, I began teaching business classes with an emphasis on good business practices and pricing custom work. I was an instructor at the Custom Home Furnishings Academy in North Carolina as well as at trade shows across the United States. I also formed a management company with several colleagues to manage and support the daily operations of the Custom Home Furnishings Academy. Over the years I have been asked to consult and coach interior design and creative businesses on how to move to the next level. The million-dollar question that I was asked most was, "What do I do next to not only get the clients I want but to make the profit I need to make?" After four years of teaching concepts to entrepreneurs regarding their business practices, mission and pricing, I really wanted an opportunity to walk beside some of these business owners to personally coach and cheer them on as they moved toward their goals. In 2013, I began offering coaching for the interior design and custom drapery workroom industry as well as other creative businesses. I served as Communications Director and Editor-in-Chief of the Drapery and Design Professional magazine from 2009-2012 and today I'm a proud member of the Design Collective and the Window Coverings Association of America, where I served as President of the national organization and on the board of directors for nine years. In addition to coaching, I host workshops, provide online training, I also offer educational seminars on a variety of business topics around the country." STAY CONNECTED: https://www.scarletthreadconsulting.com/ Instagram: scarletthreadatl Facebook: Scarletthreadconsulting _____________________________________ Thank you again for joining us today please check out our webpage at www.riseupforyou.com for more podcast episodes, webinars, articles, free resources, and events to help you get to the next level in your life! You can also follow us on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, Google+, and Youtube @riseupforyou If you know anybody that would benefit from this episode please share it with them and help spread the knowledge and motivation. Please support Rise Up For You by writing a review on iTunes. Your feedback will really help the success of our show and push us to continuously be better! So don’t forget to show your support!

united states america president google north carolina chief business administration stay connected communications director profit first hobbyist scarlet thread michele williams design professionals drapery rise up for you light university scarlet thread consulting window coverings association

23 - Italian Stringing

The Sew Much More Podcast: 30 Minutes With Workroom Tech

Play Episode Listen Later Sep 11, 2019 30:54

Italian Stringing is such a beautiful option for panels; with any heading, they look like they are floating!!! We talk about how to make them look exactly the way we want!!! See more about today's topic on Susan's Workroom Tech Blog. Please post your photos of Italian stringing on our Facebook post about this episode! 30 Minutes with Workroom Tech is brought to you by Workroom Tech Resources and Links; Susan's Book Safe T Shade Ring locks Susan's article in Drapery and Design Digital Digest Episode 5 and Episode 7 on Safety Standards

italian stringing drapery

164 - Kendra Hays - I've Had To Embrace The Chaos of Our Life!

trials designers charleston bamboo darius rucker southern living house beautiful traditional home drapery htd

Play Episode Listen Later Aug 11, 2019 58:43

Kendra Hays, the owner of Cloudberry Drapery Studio is the wife of her video game loving husband Marcus and mother to four amazing kids, and her passion for sewing came from her mother. In her early 20's her love for home decor sewing took off when she was given her first sewing machine. She filled her new home with various curtains and bedding. One of her first projects was her oldest sons nursery! Her work has evolved through the years and she loves collaborating with and inspiring her clients to make their house truly unique. Through her active involvement in workroom networking groups, including the Window Coverings Association of America (WCAA) she is able to keep up to date on the latest trends and methods of fabrication. She strongly believes in education and improving her techniques. She regularly attends industry conferences and events to keep up to date on the newest trends, fabrics, and fabrication methods. Kendra is on Facebook and Instagram. Resources and Links; The Drapery and Design Network is now The Curtains and Soft Furnishings Resource Library The Custom Workroom Conference Workroom Tech The Workroom Channel Drawmatic Jewel's Tape The Curtains and Soft Furnishings Resource Library My Designer Concierge Thanks to my Corporate Sponsors; The Window Covering Association of America Scarlet Thread Consulting The Workroom Channel

chaos embrace hays curtains drapery window coverings association

Ep. 99: designer Angie Hranowsky

How to Decorate

Play Episode Listen Later Jul 30, 2019 97:48

Angie Hranowsky has been named one of the “20 Designers to Watch” by Traditional Home, included in Southern Living’s “Top Five Fastemakers” and featured in House Beautiful amongst many others. Based in Charleston, Angie's style combines modern, vintage, chic and colorful all to highlight the taste of lifestyle of her clients. She joins the show today to talk about finding the confidence to take risks, gives us a peek into her favorite projects, and shares a few of her favorite resources for buying vintage and antique. What You’ll Hear on This Episode: Triumphs about awesome birthday gifts including new lamps, giant watercolor paper rolls, and mid-century modern sculptures. Trials regarding kitchen shelves, very expensive power bills, and a nightmare situation with Taryn’s little boy. Angie’s background, and how she got into design and started her own business in Charleston. The Coastal Living Idea House, and how Angie went into it with the intention of making it look like a real project rather than just an idea. Why Angie gravitates towards using colors, especially purple, yellow, and turquoise. A few of Angie’s tips to get homes to feel beachy and coastal, without being too obvious in design. Angie loves to mix all sorts of styles and textures, and has been incorporating modern, vintage and found pieces for years.. How Angie made the best of economically challenging times, and some of her personal budget friendly tips for making the home look beautiful. How Angie ended up working with Darius Rucker and his wife, and the great time they had creating something original and chic while transforming their newly built home. Your house can be more about the art and the objects, doesn’t have to be all about color. Angie’s theory on threading color similar value and tone throughout the house. Angie’s new project of a kitchen house, and how it might be the most colorful project she has done yet. Angie’s unusual use of light fixtures, and why she tends to use vintage lamps to support originality in the homes. Why it’s important to treat your furniture, to kid, pet and spill proof your home. How to get a proper foyer, and why a package drop off room may be a thing in our near future. Mentioned In This Episode ARCHES Watercolor Paper The Little Tart Bakeshop Lamp Arts City Issue Coastal Living Idea House Angie Hranowsky House Beautiful 1st Dibs Matthew Quinn @angiehranowsky Pic of Drapery next to fireplace - HTD will put in Decorating Dilemmas: Angie has had the same scenario before, and looks like there is plenty of room on either side of the fireplace. (We think!) If there indeed is, drapes would cozy up the room and add warmth to the space. Bamboo blinds would work, if they are mounted up high behind the rod with an outside mount. The other option besides panels on either side of the fireplace is doing drapes on the long wall, and using custom Roman shades using the same fabric. If the space between the drapery and the fireplace is too close, you may have to do the Roman shades to match the style of the drapes.

14 - Pleating Draperies

The Sew Much More Podcast: 30 Minutes With Workroom Tech

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 24, 2019 29:57

As with so many of the things we talk about, the details are so important! How the pleats are made in our panels are what makes them special. You can see Susan's blog about pleats here. 30 Minutes With Workroom Tech is sponsored by Workroom Tech!

drapery

138 - Jill Plummer Stanbro Hughes - In The End You Gain What You Want To Have

Home Design Chat with Nancy

Play Episode Listen Later Feb 10, 2019 73:19

Jill Stanbro Plummer Hughes was born, raised and has spent her entire life in Canton, Oh. She has imported two husbands from out of state. At separate times, of course! Married for 7 ½ years to Michael Hughes with three grown children, Eric, Julie and Sean, 7 grandchildren and one great-granddaughter, who are all the loves of her life, along with her son-in-law and two daughters-in-law. Since 1979 Jill has worked strictly in the window coverings business. After working for another company, Jill started her own business, in January 1984. In the 35 years that Stanbro’s Draperies has existed, Jill's business has come full circle from working by herself in her basement workroom, to moving the business three times and employing as many as 10 people, to being back in a basement workroom in her home working mainly on her own, with some much needed assistance from her family. Jill had the privilege of working for both Cheryl Strickland and Margie Nance. Jill loved teaching and it enabled her to travel all over the country sharing her knowledge and she has met some of the most wonderful people that are still her good friends. She published several articles and was even a cover girl on D&WC magazine! Jill keeps trying to retire but customers and friends won’t allow it, but mostly because she still loves what she does. Her byline says it best: I love that when my job is finished, something beautiful exists. Social Media Facebook: Jill Plummer Stanbro Hughes Instagram: @Standrapes Resources; CABMMF Corporate Sponsors of the Podcast are; The Workroom Channel Scarlet Thread Consulting The WCAA

married hughes canton plummer michael hughes drapery scarlet thread consulting wcaa

I Want Shutters on My Windows!

Play Episode Listen Later Jan 20, 2019 26:53

HOME DESIGN CHAT WITH NANCY Nancy chatted with Larry O’Daniel, managing partner with Arizona Blinds, Shutters and Draperies. Our total podcast was about Planation Shutters – how are they made, what are the sizes of the shutters, what are the benefits of using shutters, and more. You won’t want to miss […]

windows shutters drapery

Episode 41 - The Men's Drapery Section

Cameron And Brock Are Two People

Play Episode Listen Later Dec 8, 2018 49:42

Cameron has a bowtie he’s never tied. Brock wants to wear a cape. Hang onto your hats you carry around just to look fancy, folks – we’re here to revolutionize the world of mens’ comfortwear. Somebody get Duluth Trading Co. on the horn – we need to talk to them about button-up robes and legless shorts, STAT.

parenting cooking hang dads gardening dual crises banter midlife homeschool stat enrollment barbecue existential unscripted thirties drapery

DWR 091 Mission Impossible: Fallout, draperies, credits and more! - The Dream Warrior Review Podcast

Dream Warrior Review with Miq Strawn and Kurt Thomas

Play Episode Listen Later Jul 27, 2018 27:53

"MIssion: Impossible - Fallout" (2018)The Dream Warrior Review podcast series with Miq Strawn and Kurt Thomas. Featuring Reviews of Horror and Science Fiction Films.Also Featuring Story Time With Miq.In this episode Draperies, movie credits and more!Music By Charred Walls of the DamnedTime Has Passed from Creatures Watching over the DeadE-mail us at DreamWarriorReview@gmail.com or check us out on Twitter or Facebook @DWReview

horror credits mission impossible fallout dream warriors science fiction films warrior podcast drapery kurt thomas

90 - Melissa Hamman - Plan Your Work and Work Your Plan

Affordable Interior Design presents Big Design, Small Budget

Play Episode Listen Later Apr 8, 2018 56:20

The Sew Much More Podcast is sponsored by; The Workroom Channel Scarlet Thread Consulting The WCAA Melissa Hammann is the owner of Riviera Décor a high-end retail and wholesale custom workroom that also specializes in outdoor décor. She resides in Corpus Christi, Texas a resort coastal town located off the gulf coast of south Texas where she lives with her husband and four children Melissa is the recent recipient of the 2018 IWCA/Visions Award for first place in Curtains and Draperies Workroom competition. Her work has been published numerous times in local media and trade magazines. She holds a Master of Science degree and Bachelor of Business Degree, from Texas A&M along with design training at the New York Institute of Art and Design and twelve certificates from the Custom Home Furnishings Academy located in Charlotte, North Carolina. She is a member of the Window Coverings Association of America- Virtual Chapter, wherein she serves on the executive board as Vice President of the Window Coverings Association of America (WCAA)- Virtual Chapter, Chairperson for the WCAA- Virtual Chapter Speaker Committee, an administrator for WoMen of the Workroom, an industry forum of over 900 members. A published writer for trade magazine, Bespoke Soft Furnishings and Webinar speaker for Drapery and Design Professional and the Window Coverings Association of America as well. You can find Riviera Decor on Facebook and Instagram. On the Podcast we mentioned; The WCAA Virtual Chapter WoMen of the Workroom Facebook page The E Myth by Michael Gerber The Workroom Channel Grids Yoast SEO

america women texas art master science design vice president north carolina bachelor webinars corpus christi chairperson texas a m curtains e myth michael gerber new york institute business degree hamman design professionals drapery workroom scarlet thread consulting wcaa riviera d window coverings association

Episode 140: Design Q&A - Drapery Dilemmas, Color Advice and More!

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 12, 2018 22:57

Betsy answers all of your questions about drapery, colors and more!

advice design color dilemmas drapery

#60 - Karen Barnes - I Was Like A Sponge

Play Episode Listen Later Sep 10, 2017 52:19

Karen Barnes is the owner of The Elegant Window, a to-the-trade custom drapery and soft goods workroom located in Gilbert Arizona. She is thrilled to be celebrating 20 years in business this year! Karen entered the custom drapery and soft furnishings business in 1997 working with both retail and with the design trade. Five years into the business, Karen realized that what she truly loved was working with talented interior designers and bringing their ideas and vision to fruition. Her reputation for her attention to detail and high standards in workmanship quickly spread within the design community. In 2003, Karen switched to wholesale only and she, along with her great team of employees, have been creating exquisite, high-quality soft furnishings to the design trade ever since. In 2009, Karen entered the IWCE Ingenuity Workroom Competition and was awarded Workroom of the Year, the most prestigious award for drapery workrooms. She also was awarded First Place in Specialty Treatments and 2nd place in Top Treatments. In 2011, she again had a winning entry in the Ingenuity Workroom Competition and won 1st place in Specialty Treatments. In 2016, Karen won 1st place at Arizona North Chapter’s ASID Design Excellence Awards in the category of Industry Partner, Commissioned. In 2017, she again had winning entries at IWCE. She won 1st place in Specialty Treatments, 2nd place in Ingenious Installation and a 2nd place tie in Top Treatments. Karen is looking forward to the challenging role of judge in 2018 for IWCE’s Ingenuity Workroom Competition, as she has done on two previous IWCE competitions. The treatments fabricated by the team at The Elegant Window have been published in several magazines including Window Fashion Vision, Phoenix Home and Garden and Desert Design. Karen is a Certified Workroom Expert through the Window Fashions Certified Professionals Program. Her affiliations include membership in the Window Coverings Association of America, as well as membership in the Phoenix Association of Workroom Professionals, Drapery and Design Professional Network, and is an Industry Partner with the American Society of Interior Designers (ASID) and International Furnishings and Design Association (IFDA). Links of things mentioned on the show; Custom Draperies in Interior Design This book is still available on Amazon and you can use the affiliate link above. Find Karen on Facebook. For information about submitting to IWCE click here. The Expo will be held in Tampa, FL March 27 - 28, 2018.

america amazon gardens tampa expo american society first place commissioned sponge gilbert arizona drapery workroom industry partner phoenix home karen barnes iwce window coverings association

Episode 132: Death Hides In The Drapery (With Dave Bulmer)

Life's a Pitch Podcast

Play Episode Listen Later Aug 31, 2017 50:23

Dave Bulmer joins us once again for what is one of our weirdest film pitches yet. So weird we spend most of the episode trying to figure out what this film actually is about! Enjoy! This is episode is brought to you thanks to our amazing patrons Ross_Originals My Waste of Talent Brandon "Spanky" Mills Joe Hegarty Adam Owen If you want your name on here too, contribute to our patreon here - www.patreon.com/lifesapitchpodcast Find us at www.facebook.com/lifesapitchpodcast Or follow us on twitter @lifesapitchshow Find Dave at www.youtube.com/DemonTomatoDave Follow us on twitch for our video game live feeds - www.twitch.com/lifesapitchpodcast Subscribe on iTunes! - https://itunes.apple.com/gb/podcast/lifes-a-pitch/id1003281026?mt=2 Or on Acast - www.acast.com/lifesapitchpodcast Or anywhere that uses an RSS feed - http://feeds.soundcloud.com/users/soundcloud:users:140240683/sounds.rss Subscribe to our videos on Youtube! - www.youtube.com/channel/UCLC3Hl8GU4uFnGcDXxwcUdw

death acast hides spanky drapery dave bulmer

#52 - Frances Pusch - I Followed What Made Me Happy

Play Episode Listen Later Jul 16, 2017 82:59

Frances Pusch has worked with textiles in some form her entire professional career. Her training includes art school and a bachelor’s degree in textile design from Boston University. She also studied tailoring and fashion design at the Fashion Institute of Technology (FIT). During twelve years in New York, Frances worked for two leading textile companies, had a custom tailor shop, was a pattern-maker for outerwear companies, including London Fog, and taught tailoring and pattern-making at FIT. As a business owner, she has made men’s and women’s custom suits, designed and produced a collection of women’s clothing, and later a line of gift items for dog lovers. Her sole focus, starting in 2002, has been creating fine products for home interiors. Frances keeps her business up-to-date by actively participating in online discussion groups and webinars, as well as traveling to conferences and workshops around the country. She is always searching for better techniques, resources and technology—all the while keeping hand stitching alive and well! Her professional affiliations include the Window Coverings Association of America, the Drapery and Design Professional Network, and the Maine Women’s Business Network. Frances lives in an 1848 cape-style house, next door to her studio, in a small village in coastal Maine. When not working, she is most often found playing with her rescue dog, Tilly, or on a tennis court, or enjoying the company of art, music, books and friends. You can find photos of Frances's beautiful workroom on her website. One of Frances' favorite tools is the disappearing Purple Pen.

america new york maine boston university fashion institute business networks london fog technology fit drapery frances' maine women window coverings association

#49 - Beuancha Jeffries - You Should Add Value to the Community

community corporate add value pillows jeffries home decor bedding houzz home d program committee drapery window treatments

Play Episode Listen Later Jun 11, 2017 49:36

For Beuancha Jeffries, it was a natural progression from many years of hand crafts, knitting, needlepoint and cross-stitch to creating her business, Soft Furnishings and Home Décor. A combined 30-year career in the Corporate manufacturing process using assembly equipment, and working in an office environment interpreting blue prints, schematics, following government standards prepared Beuancha for her passion, creating beautiful Home Decor for the home furnishings industry following professional standards and specifications and also managing a workroom. Sew Cozy Interiors (SCI) opened its doors in June 2003 as a part time home based workroom offering pillows, bedding and draperies. Beuancha worked in her workroom at night after working her day job. In 2009, she received a retirement package from my company and she began working in her drapery workroom, Sew Cozy Interiors full time, and has never looked back. Beuancha is a Certified Career Professional in Window Treatments, Advanced Window Treatments, Pillows and Bedding and Window Treatment Installation and Advanced Installations through the Custom Home Furnishings Academy (CHFA). A member of Drapery and Design Network, WCAA National and WCAA Atlanta. She is on the Program Committee of the Designer Workroom Council (DWC) in Atlanta. She attends many semi-annual and annual conferences, learning the newest time saving custom methods for achieving durable fabrication, correct measurement and professional standards and results. Website Sew Cozy Interiors Facebook Sew Cozy Interiors Facebook Sew Cozy Interiors Instagram Pinterest Sew Cozy Interior on Pinterest Twitter twitter.com/Beuancha Houzz houzz.com/pro/Beuancha/sew-cozy-interiors Things we talked about on the podcast; Hopper John Gordon's Energy Bus

Episode 4 Interview With Stacy Valley

Billy Mason Keene Podcast

Play Episode Listen Later May 20, 2017 20:30

Episode 4 of the Billy Mason Keene Podcast. In this episode Billy Mason Keene welcomes Stacy Valley to discuss stuff she hates doing, people on her hit list, her ideal funeral and much more. Will she get him to discuss his feminine side? This episode is sponsored by Eddie's Used Blinds and Drapery.

valley drapery

JF56: The Complete Guide to Staging Your Property

Best Real Estate Investing Advice Ever Archive I

Play Episode Listen Later Mar 30, 2017 20:41

Want to command the most money for your house? Stage it baby! Today’s Best Ever guest talks in detail about how to stage a home so it commands the highest dollar. This info is perfect for all investors doing Lease to Purchase Options. Joyce Kelly’s real estate background: – Real estate agent at Nathan Grace Real Estate – Over 10 years of interior design experience – Received 2nd place in Window Fashions Envisions National Competition – Kaleidoscope People’s Choice Award winner for Interior Design – Authored many articles in Drapery and Design Professional and Drapery & Window Coverings

real stage property received leases interior design choice awards complete guide staging best ever design professionals drapery

Episode #14 with Margie Nance

design treatments soft window interior furnishings drapery workroom

Play Episode Listen Later Oct 16, 2016 65:25

With over 20 years experience on many sides of this industry, Margie’s journey has moved her away from fabrication and towards education and instruction. Listen to Margie share her journey, perhaps she should stop saying never, and why do sewing machines just appear in her life??? You can find the Drapery and Design Network here. Thank you to my sponsors who make it possible for me to continue to bring the podcast to my listeners. Scarlet Thread Consulting The Window Covering Association of America The Workroom Channel Thanks for listening, and if you have any questions or comments, please reach out to me at ceilwdi@gmail.com, or visit my website Ceildi.com.

Podcast #10 with Terri Booser