More than ten years before I switch to drum circles, I used to go out clubbing and dancing like many young people. Whether it was clubs in London, illegal raves in L.A or the 50,000-people/25-DJs Inner City in Amsterdam, I sure loved to party. And in that regard, music was and still is everything.
I gathered here a collection of those classic electronic tunes, which will probably stay with me forever. The vocals in some of them have once tickled my core, and every time I re-listen I'm tickled all over again while being flooded by an intoxicating, frozen-in-time mix of memories, sensations, and pure ecstasy. Others tunes, it's simply the beat that is engraved on my nervous system.
The fun part is, I'm not alone. I couldn't help but read some of the YouTube comments on the videos, and they are full of people reminiscing about their youth and party years. If you happened to party in 90s then most likely you'll recognize some of the following beats.
For those who appreciate it, music — and dancing — can really take you places. Language is limited by words and ideas and concepts; music isn't. It's free. In fact, music is one of the few activities that involves using the whole brain, and that is why it's therapeutic.
So here are some of the gems. Enjoy...
1989
1990
1991
1993
1994
1995
1996
1997
Candiflippin'
1998
I concur
2000
Insanely similar to "The Music Sounds Better With You"
Schlitze “Schlitzie” Surtees (birth name unknown, possibly Simon Metz)
is one of the most famous ‘pinhead’ sideshow performers in history. Born
with a condition known as microcephaly, which is a developmental
disorder that causes the skull and brain to be undersized, he was
severely mentally disable and was only four feet tall.
Born in 1862, Joseph ‘John’ Merrick was known as The Elephant Man
Louise “The Leopard Girl” was also often referred to as the “White
Negro” due to Vitiligo — a harmless skin disorder that effects
the pigmentation
of the skin
Barbara Kettlebell, the 1920s strong woman
Grace McDaniels (March 17, 1888–March 14, 1958) was known as the "Mule-Faced Woman"
Rosa Lee Plemons
Chang and Eng Bunker, the original Siamese Twins
Fedor Adrianovich Jeftichew better known as Jo-Jo the Dog-Faced Boy was a famous Russian sideshow performer who was brought to the United States of America by P.T. Barnum
Robert Melvin, The Man with Two Faces (afflicted with Neurofibromatosis)
Another capture of Joseph Merrick, The Elephant Man
Horace Leonard Ridler, The Great Omi or The Zebra Man
The conjoined sisters Rosa and Josepha Blažek were born in Skrejšov, Bohemia on January 20, 1878
Every purple moon I go to the movies seeking some distraction. Last night there was Ouija playing, I checked it on IMBD, but found it rated 4.3. I checked John Wick and it was 8.3 — where it was described as: An ex-hitman comes out of retirement to track down the gangsters that killed his dog and took everything from him. Oooh. It’s also Keanu Reeves and Willem Dafoe, so... it should be OKayish. Or so I thought.
This is sort of a spoiler, a deliberate one, so if you still want to watch that movie stop reading. There is a variety of different topics to delve into on One Lucky Soul. Just check one of the many labels and take it from there.
Alright, the action/crime/thriller story starts with memories of Keanu’s young wife tragic, untimely death. He’s then seen in a gas station where one of three guys offered to buy his sport 1969 Mustang, but he refused.
“Everything is for sale, Bitch,” said the stranger — in Russian.
Next scene, the three guys break into his cool home, beat the shit out of him, kill the cute puppy his late wife had given him [the bastards]. And, they steal the prized car. That’s it.
The father of one of said guys happens to be a Russian mafioso who also happens to know Keanu from older times. He called him up, trying to tell him “not to follow his instincts”. But it was too late for Krazy Keanu who flipped out and lost it for one full hour — unleashing his wrath like there is no tomorrow. Yet, like, there is a part 3 in the making.
Being a former assassin, he was fully loaded. It was like a “Commando-going-to-save-his-daughter-in-1985” sort of affair; utter revenge and non-stop destruction, often shown in the form of CGId bloody gun battles.
Here, though, there was no one to save... his car maybe, but I’m not even sure he got it back. Perhaps save himself? By killing. Spirit Of Times? Zeitgeist?
At some point through the movie, I tried to put myself in John Wick’s shoes. You know, to see if any of this could be slightly realistic. If I were freshly-widowed and someone had done that to Caramella my late Cocker Spaniel — and I loved her more than my unborn kids — would I go hunt them down while killing a few hundred people in the process, I found myself wondering for one brief moment. Bearing in mind that I’m no real hitman, but three quarter of a second later, I thought NO. Absolutely not. Even though my love for her was notoriously unconditional but I will not carry a bazooka and blow up people and cars in response. Even if my wife had just died. Not really my shtick. Because, how would that solve anything? how would that help me heal?
But hey, that’s just me: After all, I am crazy Bohemian Hippie at heart who is all for peace and love. Weird.
By that time all these thoughts about the flick were invading my mind while [apparently] entertaining me more than the actual flick, it had been about 70 minutes. I had already dosed off twice, and, seriously, couldn’t take it anymore, so I got up and left, wondering what the hell is wrong with the mainstream... and humanity. Is it the people, the culture, America, or, is it me? Can some people find such a shallow, substanceless “action thriller” story captivating? Apparently yes: It is entertaining to spend one and a half hour of our lives watching some angry guy killing people to avenge his dead dog. Maybe these waves of mixed emotions will make the viewers feel better about themselves and their own lives. Remembering they are not John Wick and that they do not have to avenge their dead dog by going on a killing spree.
How about Wick flying to Nepal or something to heal from his uncontrollable anger and to learn the power of forgiveness. He can meditate on the summit of a mountain while getting another pup, too. Mayhap a stray runt doggo who will just magically pop up on one of his mountainous hikes there. Or that wouldn’t sell, huh. Then again, I am starting to think Keanu Reeves can only play those Matrix-like robotic roles with minimal dialogue — nothing deeper.
Still, in real life the man seems to be a genuinely wonderful human being. We do need more of him in this absurd rotating rock we all live and breath on.
So yes I did get distracted this Saturday night but I certainly wasn’t impressed nor entertained.
Last night, I had sushi a couple of miles away from where I’m currently staying in The Valley area and was coming back on the bike when all of a sudden I find a police car behind me with a white flash light telling me to stop. This was around 10:30 pm.
“Did I do anything wrong, officer?” I asked the one on my side.
“Yeah, you’re using the main street and your bike doesn’t have a light. Get off the bike and go stand by the wall.”
Because my used bike doesn’t have a light I usually ride it on the pavement. This time, however, I just crossed from the middle of the street since it was empty and I was steps from home. No big deal.
I went by the wall as they came closer, asking if I’m carrying any arms or narcotics. I said no. They told me to put my hands up and spread my legs, searched a little and found nothing. Then they asked for ID and also what I’m doing there and where I’m coming from. I cooperated peacefully, sharing that I’m staying at my aunt’s place by the end of the street.
The senior one took the ID and went to check it in the vehicle while the other stayed beside me on the pavement. I was going to tell him that it may be easier to Google me but I didn’t. And since I was all in the clear, I decided to entertain the situation a little.
“You scarred me, I don’t drive now so I don’t have to deal with laws and breaking them,” I said to the closer one, pretending to be oh-so-fragile.
At the time I put my hands in my pockets, but he told me to keep them by my side. Just to let him know that I sincerely mean no harm I put them behind my back.
“So how long have you been here?” I replied with the whole story of my journey across the U.S, arriving to Los Angeles, and ending with the book I’m writing.
“What is it about?” He asked again. To which I replied: Dreams, the Subconscious Mind, Spirituality, Meditation among other mind-over-matter subjects. I could see his eyes widening, probably starting to think that I’m not quite the criminal they thought I might be. Then I said that I came to California after traveling to all those other places but didn’t, and still don’t, want to leave it.
“Why?” He asked one more time.
By that moment, I already knew I had him. I could tell he wasn’t really interrogating me or “doing his job” anymore; he was somewhat captivated by my storytelling. So I thought I would finish it off with a knock out.
“Because it’s beautiful. If you travel around to for example New York, Chicago, Denver, Michigan, and Detroit you will know that California is a special place. The weather, the nice people (*sneakingly spreading my palm and subtly pointing it towards him), the beach! It’s really heaven. The more one sees other places the more one realises how grateful we should be for being here,” or something poetic like that.
A slight proudish smile was drawn on his face as he began to subtly nod in agreement — while trying not to show it too much.
The other officer could hear our whole conversation, and it was clear that he was equally captivated. Him, too, changed attitude and came back saying that this street can be shady at night; so this is all for safety. Oh, and that I need a light for my bike.
“I’m a peaceful man,” I smilingly uttered.
“Yes, it’s not you, it’s others. It’s night time and it’s the weekend.”
Ah. That’s why you had to sneak up on some guy on a bike with your stop-and-frisk. That makes a lot of sense. As a resident of the neighbourhood I feel much safer now. Thank you, really.
He then told me he could give me a ticket but it’s going to be “a pain in the butt” since I’ll have to go to court so he won’t do it. Though if I’ll be in the area for the next while I’d better get a light for the bike because I look very distinct and they’ll probably see me again.
Aha. I look different. I clearly see now. Well, given that we are in the Valley and not in Venice Beach, I know with my long hair and beard I do look different, especially on the bike. Actually, since I first visited Venice earlier this year I
have been telling my friend that I love it there because as soon as I
step in the area I don’t feel weird anymore. I seriously doubt if my hippie-dippie look wasn’t THE main reason why they initially stopped me.
Finally, he handed me back my ID and I was the one who said thank you. I frequently like to boost their egos, making them feel special as it makes everything much easier.
As I got on the bike I looked at both of then and said: “Wish me luck for my book. I’ll write about you.
Good luck, but you don’t have to do that.
Haha.”
Oh yes I will, oh yes I will, piggy pigs. For I’m a peaceful warrior now and the pen is my only weapon. I do no harm but I take no shîte. Back to the beach where I’m celebrated and not just tolerated.
On a parallel note, find out Why Hippies Are Sometimes Called Bohemians on this more recent piece. Also make sure to check more stories [links below] about more encounters with the authorities. Because they seem to love me and I can’t seem to be able to stop writing about whatever transpires. After all, the pen is now my one true weapon.
Those last four
years of my life have been quite eventful. From leaving Egypt to Canada
in 2010, roaming around the U.S since last January, to finally reaching
The Bohemian Venice Beach. The following are photos of some of the art I got to see during this long journey. Because Earth without Art is just ‘Eh’.
Four years in Venice Beach then resulted in two more photo-articles, Tripping Through Venice Beach Art and its sequel More Tripping Through Venice Beach Art. Enjoy.
.jpg "John Wicky — Absurd Review of the Icky Sticky by Omar Cherif")
