DANCEISM: ZERO

So guess who has internet now? That's right - me. I am really moving up in the world. Nothing can stop me now. Today: internet. Tomorrow: that fancy fashion photographer job I've always dreamed of.

One day at a time.

I've got to admit I'm getting better, I'm getting better all the time. Really though. With every day (Three and counting!) that I successfully overcome the tremendous urge to dial up You Know Who I grow a little more independent, a little more confident, and a little more...well, myself.

Sixty days of he-tox (I stole that one straight from the self-help book - but it works!). It's a long underground tunnel of extreme restraint, discovery, and mourning. It starts off pitch black and as it rises to the surface grows lighter and lighter. I am apprehensive - maybe even a little bit resistant - to what I may find when I get out of here. I worry that maybe I won't really want to speak with him again, that I will have indeed transformed as a butterfly, fluttering away on some perfumed breeze. But what would he love more than to perhaps spy me on the wind, singing a song like the sound of small bells far away, my wings large, golden, and strong enough to lift my own weight...what would please him more than to chance upon his former love, more radiant than ever? I know he would hold his breath and let me dance away, his own beautiful secret. I would do likewise. I would love to see him happy.

I think it is the most difficult when there is nothing really to be angry about.

My travels through this new world to the next would not be possible without the aid of my friends. I am full of new memories forged in a new life.

DANCEISM: ZERO was a sweaty neon dance marathon. Those lads really know how to throw a party and if I were you, I'd add their MySpace and keep your head up for the next downtown warehouse black light party. The DJs were pulling tracks from the farthest reaches of your middle school memories and spinning them into disco mirrors. As in...remember Fatboy Slim? Use your imagination - yeah, that good.







Driving home at 3:30 in the morning was surreal - and not for the usual reasons. The 101 south greeted me with a swarm of red brake lights. When I fled to the surface streets, I found nearly all of Sunset blocked off for the Junction (Of course!). Winding around (And around and around and around) Silverlake, I found myself on Santa Monica and home free. But not without witnessing a real live solicitation. Oh Hollywood....



You can find the rest of the photos here.

Sunday I rode over to Sunset Junction. It was on Sunset and Virgil that I learned the perils of inappropriate cell phone use and sustained my first bike injury.



Even though I don't think that the giant outdoor Junction is a venue where a band like !!! thrives, they were amazing, with Nic Offer clambering up the stage scaffolding and grinding his hips against the metal in the throes of hot dance monkey love. The way that man moves is so good.

We rounded out the night with The Black Keys' throaty vocals and chilled up on a hill in Silverlake until we were ready to take the boulevard back home.