This website and my dj moniker have nothing to do with the recent ad for condominiums in the RedEye.

I had the name first. You stole it from me.

And stop trying to make it sound like a hip London neighborhood. "So-No" indeed.

listening to: The Fiery Furnaces - "Bitter Tea"
in my sink: still plates.

DJ'ing over on the south side last night went far better than could be expected. Despite asking for "80's hair metal" and "cock rock" (their words) in an earlier e-mail, the bar's true tastes turned out to be much more current and what I'd rather play. Unfortunately this didn't turn out so well for the dj I dragged along to help me with the "cock rock," and I feel bad about that, but who knew?

In short, they loved me and want me back. Of course, this brings me to the realization that my tastes are the same as those of a south side college sports bar, and I throw up a little in my mouth every time I think about it. However, I really want to dj again, and maybe I'll get the chance to school these musically-deficient collegiate jocks in real rock by sneaking in a few of the under-appreciated talents once in a while. I went there expecting it to be a one-time shot ending with me being thrown out the door by my shirt tails, and left with a regular every-other-week gig. Fan-TAS-tic.

Just in case you're interested, here are the details for next week so far:

DJ south of north
(not to be confused with the condo ad in the Red Eye)
@ Junior's
724 W. Maxwell St.
Thursday, April 27

Flyers to follow. Oh, you know it.

listening to: The Fiery Furnaces - "Bitter Tea"
in my sink: plates 'n plates

I had what I call the "Haiti dream" last night. Basically, it's a recurring dream wherein I find myself on vacation in Limbe, Haiti, my former home for three years. It used to happen all the time, and I interpreted it to mean some inner desire to escape from my current life. To me, Haiti was a paradise, hidden among filth and poverty and in spite of it. The desire and the dream were so strong that I eventually acted on them, and setting foot again on its soil was like stepping into that dream. For a while.

When I left Haiti for the last time, I vowed never to return. Dreams were shattered, hopes and plans destroyed, and I came home jaded, broken, without goals, settling for scrounging up any consolation life I could here in Chicago. The only difference now, I guess, is that I go through life, suffer through the winters, and endure all the hassles with the knowledge that there is no real escape, no true island paradise. I definitely don't ever want to go back there again.

Yet, those dreams still resurface every now and then, and every time they do, they confuse me all the more. In the dream, I'm happy and excited to be back. I have a list of things I want/need to do before the vacation's over, things I could never do in Chicago, like mountain climb, bike on real terrain, speak Creole, watch a decent sunset, swim in clean water, or sweat^*. There's all the nostalgia, a sense of urgency to experience it all over again, and a despondency that soon I'll be back in Chicago. Then I wake up, and the only thing I can think of is, But I HATE that place!

This is the first time I've had one of those dreams in perhaps two years, and it's noteworthy that it showed up right after I gave my boss two week's notice. It's also interesting that it happened on the first actually warm night of spring/summer.

listening to: some french crap.
in my sink: grilling utensils.

^* I know you can sweat in Chicago three months out of the year, but not like you do in Haiti. Some days, you're on your second (cold) shower by 9:00am, just to get the sticky grime off you.