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DJ King Pigeon's (Mr. Lava's) Blog Sunday, 29 August 2010I am excited to announce my latest book: a history of techno and the black guys who made it. It is the result of years of research conducted on Wikipedia. I believe this is the truest and most comprehensive portrait of the black guys who made techno ever published. Glenn Beck, a leading authority on African-American history, wrote the introduction. Incidentally, since "Mad" Mike Banks avoids being photographed, I am not certain if he is, in fact, a black guy. I included him anyway.  Thursday, 19 August 2010 Got into a fight with a Belgian over the whole burqa ban thing. I'm opposed to banning burqas for three reasons: 1) it's culturally insensitive, 2) burqas happen to be my disguise of choice when I need to lay low for a whole, and 3) as an American, I am particularly sensitive to discrimination against Muslims, since we have a Muslim president.  Wednesday, 18 August 2010 Doctor told me my colesterol and blood pressure are both too high and that my liver is a disaster. "You need to stop drinking," he told me. Hard to believe, but it seems the time has finally come when I must acknowledge reality and find a new doctor. Tuesday, 10 August 2010 Speaking from the experience of having just been padlocked into one, I can assure you that there is nothing less fun than a barrel of monkeys.  Friday, 23 July 2010 Fuck all of you! Friday, 23 July 2010 (cont.) Tuesday, 20 July 2010 I am recovering from compound skull fractures suffered as a result of being pounded repeatedly over the head with a violin after I unwittingly upset Alexander Rybak with my recent one year anniversary Eurodance mix of "Fairytale." Thursday, 15 July 2010 "Mr. Lava," began Mr. Albert Nijenhuis, director of Maxximum Dance Productions (a subsidiary of K-Tel). "Because of changes to the business model of music, brought about largely by file-sharing (fuckers), we need to find a whole new way to market you." "Not my problem. That's why you have a marketing department." "You don't have any ideas of your own for the marketing of yourself?" "No." "Mr. Lava? Do you ever think?" "No. I act. I am like one of those windy things that goes round and round--" "--a tornado?" "Yes! A tornado. Battering the coastline, sinking ships, drowning horrified pets--" "--a hurricane, you mean?" "A hurricane! That's what I am!" I snapped my fingers hurricane-istically to emphasize my point. "The marketing department tells me that we have to approach marketing you not so much as a failed--I mean exciting--Eurodance musician, but as a lifestyle." "A lifestyle?" "A lifestyle. So what is the Mr. Lava lifestyle?" "Well, it's like I said. A tornado." "A hurricane, you mean?" "I meant what I said! A tornado! Or, rather, a hurricane crossed with a tornado! That would be one bad-ass muthafucka!" "Mr. Lava, where are we?" "Imagine a giant hurricane, big dark cloud just rolling along. Already a terrifying image, right? But then! Then all these tornados shoot out of it like tentacles!" I made a loud whooshing sound as I used my hands to recreate how this might appear, with wriggling fingers representing the tentacle-like tornados emerging from the clouds (the clouds being represented by the non-finger parts of my hands). "Mr. Lava? Where are we? Do you know where we are?" "What a dreadful sight! I won't be able to sleep for days, now! Why do I do this to myself? "Mr. Lava! For the last time! Where? Are? We?" "We're at Club Fuego in Maribor, Slovenia." "We're not. Take a look around." I took a look around. Soon, I realized my error. "We're in an office." "We are." "Is this Amsterdam again?" "It is." "Can I have some of that eucalyptus you're gnawing on?" "You cannot." "That's fine. I didn't want it anyway." "So it seems that there is a Mr. Lava lifestyle. And I would say that lifestyle is: total confusion." "Without a doubt!" "Great. Now, what did I just say?" "You asked me, 'What did I just say?'" "Before that part?" "I have no idea." "Thanks, Mr. Lava. We will take it from here. You stupid fucking son of a bitch." Thursday, 20 May 2010 17 April 2006. That was the last time the euro closed below yesterday's trading value of $1.227. Nice thing about running a website for years and years is that I can easily take a look at what I was doing with my life at various times in the past (or at least during those times when I wasn't too drug-addled to write*). So I see that on 17 April 2006 I was partying down to Studio B's "C'mon Get It On," was still seeing my browny-brown-eyed Slovenian former girlfriend Mateja, and was nobly supported by my dedicated 19 year-old French maid Veronique. I had also recently written a Eurodance song. That was before my life jumped the shark, and I became a lonely, destitute figure sharing a cheap motel room with a small Muslim man who prays incessantly. Anyway, it's a pleasure to go back in time! Where will the euro go next? To 2005? To 2004? To...my God...January 2002?!?!?! * Or in prison. Monday, 10 May 2010 I have been asked to step in as manager for a Swedish girl group called 4 Non-Brunettes (their original manager is getting some much-needed R&R in Dubrovnik after an incident in a Stockholm hotel*). The girls are talented and hard-working, and they lip sync perfectly (no Ashlee Simpson SNL-style screw ups here). Bookings can be arranged through Maxximum Dance Productions. * Cocaine, gun, tighty-whiteys Tuesday, 6 May 2010 So we're all watching this movie called My Big Fat Greek Banking Crisis. My agent, who happens to be Greek, suggested yesterday that I return to America—and that I also find a new agent. Today he hanged himself with his wife's strappy belt. Actually, the timing of his suicide is probably just a coincidence. All of my agents hang themselves eventually. Tuesday, 27 April 2010 My music is not available on American iTunes, but I was touched to find that a number of bands who are selling their wares there have been performing covers of my songs in loving homage. So check out the Chart Toppers, the Countdown Singers, the Future Pop Hitmakers, and the Cardio Workout Crew! These talented kids are some of the most versatile performers out there. So what's up with all the negative reviews? Seems there are a lot of haters out there. Hey! Thanks for the tributes, guys! Friday, 23 April 2010 I'm back. I had to lay low long enough in order to be officially declared dead. More later. Last night in Budapest two attractive women invited me to join them for drinks at a fancy restaurant they recommended. We rode an elevator up to the place and then enjoyed a few rounds of beverages, me sticking to beer, they to rum and Coke. The conversation flowed easily and there was much merriment. Then came the bill. Cost for two beers and four drinks? $500. The girls seemed sort of surprised. The rum they had ordered was cheap stuff, but the restaurant must have substituted their most expensive brand. My $50 Becks beers were deemed "German imports," and I was informed that these particular bottles had been "aged to perfection" (about two months). A scowling, thick-necked bouncer with a gun strapped to his side told me in no uncertain terms that I was to pay the bill or face the consequences. "Sir!" I exclaimed magniloquently as I threw an arm around the man. "Because I have had such a wonderful time here, I will pay you five thousand dollars!" Tuesday, 10 November 2009 OK, France. You've got to grow up. I am boycotting your country until Bébé Lilly, Six'co, Kid 2 Kid, and any over kiddie fare I'm forgetting are off your charts.  Monday, 9 November 2009 I can't remember what city I'm living in. I'm either visiting Krakow or living there. Tomorrow I am either visiting Bucharest or going home to Bucharest. Sometime soon I might be dropping into Kiev, or am I moving there? Please help. Everybody is talking about the Berlin Wall this week. I was in high school when the walls, as John Cougar Mellencamp so memorably put it, "came tumblin' down." I was so enthralled with the magic of that moment that I dropped out of high school (despite my straight-A average and a promising future in the animal-testing industry) and flew straight to Bermuda, because the weather there is so much nicer than Germany's in November. After a year of smoking weed and spinning dub, I wandered over to the UK and hung out with Inspiral Carpets (aka "the Carpets"), the Happy Mondays (aka "the Mondays"), and Ned's Atomic Dustbin (aka "the Neddies"). By that time I had forgotten all about the Berlin Wall. The world had changed, you see, and maybe not all for the better. The tides of history had kicked up the flotsam and jetsam and assorted messages in bottles and steered them through the Scylla and Charybdis with no fucking idea what I'm talking about. Tuesday, 27 October 2009 When you see a guy with the words "kick me" taped to his back, do you kick him? I do. Friday, 23 October 2009 Enjoying the finest gołąbki in Krakow.  With Pixie Lott! Thursday, 22 October 2009 Dear Roman, Please stop calling me. Yours truly, Mr. Lava Tuesday, 20 October 2009 Started dating a Serbian chick. Don't know if my Albanian and Kosovar and Bosniak friends will forgive me, but she's hawt. In fact, she's a model. She recently appeared on the cover of French Vogue. The photo shows a perfect-skinned, trim figure with legs that go on forever. That particular cover was heavily criticized by French feminists who complained that the image's heavy use of Photoshop created an impossible standard of beauty. They feared that women seeing the image would engage in eating disorders in an effort to achieve this unattainable level of perfection. Turns out the joke was on them; there was no Photoshopping of the image whatsoever. Stories like these are why all the women I date and sleep with complain endlessly about the discrimination faced by the Super-Beautiful. Friday, 9 October 2009 On Saturday, in what is sure to be the most confusing World Cup qualifying game ever played, Slovakia will face Slovenia. Which is which? The entire world is bound to be baffled as the two teams, one from the former Yugoslavia, the other from the former Czechoslovakia, battle it out. And was Czechoslovakia the one nearer Italy? Or was that Yugoslavia? I have dated a Slovenian girl and I recently spent time in a Slovakian jail. So I can tell you all you need to know: The Slovenians, who inhabit a tiny country that borders Italy, Austria, and Hungary, are awesome at basketball. They are lousy at soccer. So, they will lose. But since I still have feelings for my Slovenian ex-gf, and I did not enjoy my stay in the Slovakian jail, I'm cheering for Slovenia. Sunday, 11 October 2009 Wednesday, 7 October 2009 Ahoj from Slovakia! I'm in jail! I was just getting started on a week of club dates throughout central Europe. I was in Hungary on Monday, and last night I spun in Slovakia. Unfortunately, after I was handed the mic to thank the attendees, I accidentally addressed the Slovakian crowd in Hungarian. Which is against the law in Slovakia, where Slovak is the official language. Anyway, as soon as Mária Círová posts my bail I'll be back on the road again. Tuesday, 6 October 2009 Condé Nast just axed four of my favorite magazines: Gourmet, Modern Bride, Elegant Bride, and a scrappy little parenting magazine called Cookie.  Monday, 5 October 2009 DJ'd a set for a bunch of European diplomats in Washington, D.C. this weekend. Afterward I chatted with an attractive Latvian woman. I asked her for her phone number. "Sure, Mr. Lava!" she exclaimed. "It's 202 EAT-SHIT." I wrote the number down, and then I stumbled to my cab. Years ago I would have made fun of a person so unfortunate as to be assigned a telephone number like that. Today I'm more sensitive. Thursday, 10 September 2009 Few things are staler than reaching for a remix titled "2008 remix" in the year 2009. That's why, in order to ensure that my remixes remain relevant longer, I am now crediting them all as "DJ King Pigeon 2047 Remix". Thanks to Sergio Fernandez, whose "Unforgettable Summer [2010 Vision Main Mix]" gave me this wonderful idea. Friday, 28 August 2009 I was called to testify at a Dutch hearing this week regarding a 13 year-old girl's ambition to become the youngest person to sail around the world. The girl in question, Laura Dekker, keeps running into resistance from the Dutch legal system, which claims that allowing her to undertake such a journey qualifies as child endangerment of the highest order. "But what does Mr. Lava think?" the judge asked those assembled in the courtroom. The assembled then turned to their neighbors and anxiously repeated the question to one another. It all makes sense. Since I am a popular DJ in the Netherlands, it was inevitable that the court would call me to the witness stand. I laid out My Master Argument. "The sea is a very dangerous place," I began to a rapt audience, "full of ferocious humpback whales and deadly dolphins." In the back of the courtroom a peg-legged Japanese whaler cried out, "Dolphin took my leg!" "But this is all the more reason we need a mariner Joan of Arc to go out and tame it all! When I look into the eyes of Laura Dekker I see The Chosen One! The child who will purge the oceans of aquatic beasts! She will shape the water with her mind and control the weather when the moon is full and—" "You're confusing Laura Dekker with the mermaids on 'H2O: Just Add Water'," the judge reminded me. "If Laura Dekker does not sail around the world the seas will become sick and die! Deadly jelly fish men will lumber onto dry land and attack us in our sleep! So if Laura Dekker must sacrifice her life in order to save humanity, then it must be so!" "'Sacrifice my life'?" Laura mouthed. "SEND OUT THE GIRL!" I cried, rising from my chair. "SEND OUT THE GIRL! SEND OUT THE GIRL! SEND OUT THE GIRL!" But the rest of the courtroom failed to chant with me, so my own voice grew gradually softer until I finally fell silent. "Dank u wel," the judge said wearily. The court turned Laura over to child protection officers. Tuesday, 4 August 2009 I have parted ways (again) with my record label, Maxximum Dance Productions. At issue: they appended my name to a release that I had not sanctioned—indeed, NEVER would sanction IN A MILLION, TRILLION YEARS. That's why I'm asking all of you to boycott DJ King Pigeon Pres. Fartz - "Let 'er Rip!!! (The Fart Song)". Fartz (I'm pretty sure) is Deadmau5. And while I hate to say it (especially without a shred of evidence to back it up), I think Deadmau5 DELIBERATELY wrote this awful song for the sole purpose of having my name grafted onto it in an effort to SUBVERT my rising DJ career in his native CANADA. Shitty games like these are typical of the DIRTY TRICKS played by CANADIAN dance music artists born in the MORALLY BANKRUPT 1980s. To reiterate: DO NOT BUY THIS SONG. I DID NOT and NEVER WOULD endorse a piece of total FUCKSHIT GARBAGE like "Let 'er Rip!!! (The Fart Song)"!!! Tuesday, 4 August 2009 (cont.) Thursday, 2 July 2009 I grabbed lunch with my friend Unemployed Guy Fred the other day at a nice Cuban restaurant in Berlin. "Mr. Lava, after years of friendship I have to say, you are the most self-centered person I know." "I'm fascinated by what you think about me; tell me more." "Remember how my girlfriend got pregnant and you advised us to get an abortion?" "Hannah with the big boobs? Yeah, that was my personal feeling at the time, taking into account your feelings, finances, and general life situation." "So you recommended a doctor." "I did. I was trying to make things as easy for you as possible." "And then we learned afterward that the doctor you happened to recommend was also a close personal friend of yours who, as it turned out, was desparate for work." "Dr. Hook, that's right. It was a convenient intersection of needs." "I sometimes think that the only reason you recommended the abortion was in order to give Dr. Hook some business." I bit into my Cuban sandwich and chewed thoughtfully. "It's interesting you would think that. After years of friendship I thought we'd have established some trust." "But is it true, what I suggest?" "Well. Again, it was an intersection of needs. So, it is partly true, but only in the manner that we have already discussed." Fred nodded. "Oh, and there was one other thing," I said, remembering. "Yes?" "Your girlfriend was pregnant by me." Fred chewed for a while on his sandwich while considering this. "That's interesting. I never knew that before." I shrugged. "You know what I find particularly interesting? How, after years of friendship with you, nothing shocks me anymore." "Familiarity dulls one's potential shock value." "Cheers." "Cheers," I said. We clinked glasses. Sunday, 21 June 2009 Mr. Albert Nijenhuis, who heads my record label, Maxximum Dance Productions (a subsidiary of K-Tel), asked me to come up with a new dance song. "Here's an activity to illustrate where I'm going with this," he said to me. "Name a song targeted specifically at girls who are 16." "'Sixteen Candles'?" I replied. "Oh! And 'Christine Sixteen' by Kiss." "Now name a song that makes specific mention of 17 year-olds." "Uh...'Seventeen', by Winger?" And 'Dancing Queen' of course! 'Young and sweet only seventeen'. Not to mention 'Edge of Seventeen' by Stevie Nicks." "Very good! Now name a song for 18 year-olds." I thought a bit. "Uh, '18 and Life' by Skid Row?" "Of course—which is overdue for a Eurodance remix, but that's a conversation for another day. Now. Nineteen." "'19' by Paul Hardcastle." "A no-brainer. Now...27." I thought. I thought some more. "I can't think of a song that specifically mentions a 27 year-old." "That's right. But there's a big 27 year-old demographic out there that's single and clubbing. What I want you to do, Mr. Lava, is write a dance song for 27 year-olds. One that specifically mentions that age in its lyrics. It could be called, '27'. What do you think?" "'She came from heaven—only 27', or something like that." "Yes!" Mr. Nijenuis clapped his furry hands excitedly. "...or, 'I'm 27 can't you see?/Halfway through my PhD'." "Yes! YES! Oh this is VERY good INDEED!" "But why not 33? Like, 'Now I'm 33 and my heart wants to be free'. Or 'She's dirt poor at 54 but she's still got her priiiiiide'?" Mr. Nijenuis gnawed thoughtfully on a eucalyptus branch. "Mr. Lava, you're getting way ahead of yourself. Let's just start with 27 and see how that goes." Wednesday, 29 April 2009 You might recall I was forced to leave Romania due to a (successful!) effort to RECOVER MY OWN STOLEN AUTOMOBILE that resulted in the deaths of three people. So I have to go live somewhere else. My temporary lodgings are in Krakow, Poland, which is lovely this time of year. Did you know that Pope John Paul II has died? That's one of the many interesting bits of gossip overheard during my first 24 hours back in the city. There was also a scandal involving recently uncovered CIA death camps in Auschwitz (fall-out from the Obama administration declassifying a lot of documents, probably). And some intelligence guy I drank with last night told me something I'm not supposed to share here "because it might start World War III." Well, fuck it; only a hundred people come to this page every week, and you're not going to start World War III, right? So yeah, that "controversial" missile shield the Russians are trying to stop Poland and the U.S. from building? It's already been built. In more mundane Krakow news, the pigeons these days don't seem as a numerous as I remember them being. The beer is still poured into half-liter glasses. And Kasia Kowalska and I are having lunch later today.As for where I might settle post-Krakow, Paris is tempting. You might recall my failed effort to live there once before. It was too expensive. Well, things have changed. I was particularly excited to hear that on 1 July they are greatly reducing the value-added tax in bars, cafes, and restaurants (the only "value" the tax "added" was 19.6% to every bill). So, perhaps I slum it in Krakow from now until 1 July, and then trash onward to Paris. Sound like a plan? Maybe I'll see you soon! Ceau! Friday, 24 April 2009 It's a somber day today for Armenians as they honor the memory of those who perished in the Armenian, eh, the, um....the day that hundreds of thousands—possibly over a million—of their people were...um...deliberately and systematically killed by Ottoman Turks. This mass slaughter of people, who included in their number countless women and children, many of whom died on death marches—I CAN'T TAKE THIS ANYMORE!!!!!!! IT WAS 'GENOCIDE', OK!?!?!?!? DEAL WITH IT, TURKEY!!!!!!!!! WHOAH! The "Eurotrash or Eurotreasure?" Office offers a speedy apology to Turkey for Mr. Lava's outburst. Obviously, all those dead Armenian women and children were combatants in a civil war. We apologize for the error. Thursday, 23 April 2009 While I was in the middle of a DJ set last night in Nice, the club personnel informed me that they had kidnapped me as a labor negotiating tactic. I am being treated well, and hope to set a world record for longest DJ set performed while in captivity. Thursday, 23 April 2009 (cont.) Thursday, 16 April 2009 Big news coming out of Europe this week: A BEAR IS WANDERING AROUND LJUBLJANA, SLOVENIA!!! The bear was spotted hanging out in Tivoli Park, which is Ljubljana's biggest park. Tivoli is a very nice place for a jog—WHEN YOU'RE NOT BEING EATEN BY A BEAR!!!!! Slovenia has the highest density of bears in Europe. This is why, whenever you hear about bears being reintroduced to other parts of Europe, the bears usually come from Slovenia. Slovenia is also shooting a lot of bears because they have too many of them. They're up to their necks in bears—as the recent Ljubljana news attests. According to the latest wires, the bear has "wandered off." It was last spotted drinking heavily at Metelkova, where apparently it has way too much to say about the Croatian/Slovenian border dispute. Tuesday, 7 April 2009 The aformentioned Smart Car Recovery Incident has concluded with my being asked to leave Romania "for a while." So, I slipped across the border to Moldova, since I've grown comfortable with the Romanian language and wanted to continue to use that when asking people where the toilet is and stuff. By coincidence, it turns out there was some sort of election this weekend in Moldova. While getting shit-faced at a Chisinau bar I pointed out that most elections were rigged—particularly those where communists turned out to be the winners. That's pretty true; always a lot of ballot-stuffing in those elections. The problem with communists is that they're not subtle with their election-rigging; "Exit polls show that 128% of Moldovans voted the communists back into power"—that sort of shit. Next thing I knew I was standing on the bar counter leading Romanian revolutionary chants (ah, sweet memories of 1989!) before an increasingly unruly crowd of drunken students. Must have bought a train ticket or something in my drunkenness, because I was jostled awake the next morning by the clackity-clack of railroad tracks and the sight of the Ukrainian countryside rolling past my window. I wound up in Tallinn, Estonia, where I am now sipping a latte and awaiting the arrival of Hannaliisa Uusmaa. Oh, latte! I have never felt more alive! Saturday, 4 April 2009 Since the arrival of Barack Obama in Europe, there has been a suspicious 300% increase in the number of "funky" dance tracks on the European DJ hot 100 charts.  Friday, 3 April 2009 Some punk-ass kids stole my Smart Car the other night. Since I'm technically not supposed to be living in Romania, I felt it unwise to go to the police to recover it (I'd be deported on the spot). So I hired the White Tights to recover the car for me. These long-legged Eastern European femme-fatales seduced the three carjackers at The 416. After taking them to the edge of town, they handcuffed them inside an abandoned Dacia 500 (on the pretense of a sex game). Then they pistol-whipped the ring-leader and extracted two of his fingernails with pliers. This, in turn, successfully extracted a confession regarding the whereabouts of my Smart Car. The girls thanked them all for the information, then rolled the Dacia off a mountain. The guilty trio were likely picked apart by the rooks and jackdaws endemic to the region. Problem solved; let's just get on with our lives! Well, last night I was arrested for my role in RECOVERING MY OWN FUGGIN' CAR. Yeah! I'm tweeting from a goddamn Romanian jail! (I should take a moment to thank Veronique, my former 19-year-old French maid, who has agreed to compile, edit, and post these tweetings here. I will do that in a future post.) There is hope that something will be worked out. It will probably involve a promise to leave Romania pronto. Either that, or I might stay and run for president of this country. Saturday, 14 March 2009 Just watched the Melodifestivalen final. I wanted Alcazar to win. They didn't. But now is not a time for political division. I am asking all Alcazar fans to cast their full support behind "La Voix." Even though it totally rips-off Puccini. Friday, 13 March 2009 Congratulations to Malena Ernman and Fredrik Kempe! In an age where it seems every other song on the charts rips off (or "pays homage to") some tune from the 80s, 90s, or this decade, their "La voix", which competes in tomorrow's Melodifestivalen final for a chance to represent Sweden at Eurovision 2009, manages to be the first tune in many decades to rip off a tru Eurotrash original: Puccini's "Nessun dorma"! And lest you think the similarity between the chorus of "La voix" and the familiar, main melody of "Nessun dorma" is just a coincidence, may I remind you that Kempe made a Eurotrash dance hit out of a cover of "Nessun dorma" back in 2002, titled "Vincerò." Mr. Kempe! Tomorrow the ghost of Puccini is watching Melodifestivalen! AND HE WANTS ROYALTIES!!!! Thursday, 5 February 2009 Greetings from Nearly Mr. Lava. Real Mr. Lava has asked me to stand in for him while he recovers from all those late nights and long hours making Set Number 29 for y'all. He requested—or rather, I requested, I suppose—that I effectively be...me...Mr. Lava, or nearly so, until...I return from whatever it is I am doing and take over from...me again...and...uh...um...  Wednesday, 4 February 2009 Greetings from Romania. I am Nearly Mr. Lava. Real Mr. Lava has outsourced his blogging to me so that he can concentrate on building up other parts of the website. In the meantime, please treat me as if I were the real Mr. Lava. So. What's shaking, dudes? Thursday, 29 January 2009 As it was heading out the door, the Bush administration slapped a 300% duty on Eurodance in retaliation for lower consumption of American hip-hop music amongst EU nations. Wednesday, 28 January 2009 Got sued for a million euros by my former record label. The suit alleges that my latest single, "Furious Asses," is a rip-off of my own "The Beat That Fucks You Up the Ass." Because Maxximum Dance owns the rights to "The Beat..." they are suing me and the head of my current record label (a talented and now completely terrified 20 year-old Dutch kid). The Dutch kid makes a good point when he says that this lawsuit is some major insult to injury, considering that "Furious Asses" has sold only three copies.  Thursday, 15 January 2009 Just got myself a Smart Car and gawwwwd dammmmn I love this thing. I have driven it all over Iasi and the surrounding countryside and even through a club (THAT was a night to remember, but not for me; I had already blacked out long before then. ROFL!!!!!!) And I killed a child, so I'll be in court part of next month. In other news, I have picked up a cold and a cocaine habit, though I think both are finally under control, at least as much as they're ever reasonably going to be. Wednesday, 7 January 2009 When your country's Russian gas supplies have been cut, there's one good way to keep warm: EURODANCE!!!!! Also: sex. Wednesday, 7 January 2009 (cont.) Monday, 5 January 2009 I am not the father of Rachida Dati's child. Wednesday, 31 December 2008 I recorded a kickin' electro version of ABBA's "Happy New Year" about a month ago that's ready to rock tonight's New Year's Eve parties! But unfortunately, due to a scheduling mix-up, my label is releasing it the Tuesday after next. Monday, 22 December 2008 Christmas traditions past: Donning a Santa suit to make a cameo appearance in Andre's "Noapte de vis" video. Grooving to the Yuletide sounds of Crazy Frog. Celebrating a "Cheeky" Christmas with my (former) best friends the Cheeky Girls. And Dannii Minogue's 1991 reading of "A Visit from St. Nicholas." Wednesday, 17 December 2008 My record label, Maxximum Dance Productions, came up with a great promotional campaign for my latest 12", "Da Shit." They asked me to donate a sample of my own stool to mix into the vinyl during the manufacturing process. So a few weeks ago I hung my derriere over a churning, black tub of liquid vinyl until my donation was made. The stool was then swirled into the wax until it was equally disseminated throughout the product. Unfortunately, like oil and water, stool and vinyl do not fuse very well. Consequently, the resultant records proved very brittle. Every one of them broke during shipping. That's why there are no copies of "Da Shit" available anywhere anymore. We also found that the thin veneer of urine spread over the surfaces of my CDs was too opaque for laser head readers. Tuesday, 16 December 2008 It is a Romanian tradition to slaughter a hog on the Ignat Day. To that end, my DJ friends and I rented ourselves a nice little place in the country where "Vasile," our pig, is growing fatter by the day. Some pig! :-) Don't know why we named him. Personifying the animal is going to make it that much harder to tie his struggling legs together, pull back his head, stab him deeply in the throat, and pull up forcibly on the blade as the hot blood splashes out! Monday, 15 December 2008 I'm in that warm, fuzzy place you visit the day after a heavy night of drinking and a couple of hours after you have taken two headache tablets. Squinting right now at the Eminescu tree in Copou Park. Park is pretty deserted; temperatures falling. A feral dog trots past. I have never felt more alive. Tuesday, 3 December 2008 A year ago I attended the wedding of my friend Marco and his beautiful architectural journalist girlfriend Hannah. The reception, held on a party barge in Amsterdam, was excellent. I hooked up with another attendee who turned out to be a bit wonky, but after the passage of time and some changes to my Facebook profile security settings I look back on the evening with fondness. Marco was a bit stressed right after the wedding. In addition to adjusting to married life he also had to defend his PhD thesis. But things worked out, and he hosted a get-together at a club in Vienna to celebrate his doctorate. There, several of his friends inquired about my life. I told them that nothing much had been going on in it. Shortly thereafter, Marco accepted a mid-six figures salary at an international IT company. The job required his relocating to Paris for a few years, so Marco threw a farewell party at his and Hannah's flat in Vienna to celebrate the transition. I checked into a cheap hotel and shuttled over to his place by cab. I spent the evening talking with several women—all of them married, engaged, or ugly—and then returned to my hotel room alone, save for the company of an unseen variety of rodent that gnawed on the insides of the walls throughout the night. A month later, Marco threw a housewarming party in Paris. Unfortunately, I was DJ'ing a private party in Tirana at the time and could not attend. That's too bad, because in Tirana I was repeatedly punched by a drunk Serbian nationalist after I refused to play a Ceca song (the reason for my failing to accommodate the request being that the host of the party had told me that if I played Serbian music he would "gut me"). By the way, I hope my noting in this public forum ten months later that I am still awaiting payment for my DJ services is not "gut-worthy"!  Some time after that, over beers at a posh Paris nightspot, Marco announced that Hannah was pregnant. I bought him a drink and toasted his impending fatherhood. Too many beers later, most of them consumed by me, Marco abandoned me at a bar somewhere in Montmartre, where I was arrested. And a month ago Marco's and Hannah's kid came into the world! A party (actually billed "A Celebration"—Marco and Hannah are not so into "parties" anymore) was announced. By (un)happy coincidence I happened already to be in Paris on that date; I was due to appear in court to defend myself from a lawsuit filed by the owner of an apartment complex in which I had rented a space briefly some time back (a minor misunderstanding regarding the last month's rent). After the court ruled against me, I dropped in on Marco's and Hannah's soirée at their spacious studio pad. Due to having had a bit of a "head start" on the day's drinking, I passed out on their couch near the beginning of the "celebration." To clear some additional sitting room for his other guests, Marco rolled me into a taxi. It's been such a delight celebrating all the milestones in Marco's and Hannah's lives in 2008! Monday, 2 December 2008 Spun tunes at the Sweat Machine in Lviv, Ukraine, Saturday night (following a great performance by Alena Vinnitskaya—kisses!). About 500 enthusiastic Ukrainians demonstrated that they can party as hard as anybody in Europe—despite the fact that the dreams of the 2004 Orange Revolution have been dashed forever. I opened with hard electro, which no doubt surprised some of the patrons. Some might even have been as disappointed as they were by Prime Minister Tymoshenko's recent kowtowing to the Russians, President Yushchenko's complete and utter political impotency, and the petty rivalry that has come to define the relationship between those two former teammates over the last few years. But then I transitioned into an uplifting set of classic Eurodance, which no doubt comforted those who feared I'd gone all trendy in my tastes. For the hundreds packed on the dancefloor, the throbbing sounds of Culture Beat's "Mister Vain" provided temporary respite from the thought that Russia will likely cut off Ukraine's gas supply on January 1st. Arms waved and people sang—even though it appears Ukraine has no hope of ever being anything more than Russia's much-abused stepchild! Afterward, rosy-cheeked students, every last one of them betrayed and abandoned by their politicians, stumbled deliriously into the cold night air babbling enthusiastically about the evening of entertainment I had provided them. They were blissfully unconcerned by the fact that a NATO path to membership is now out of the question for Ukraine, which in turn casts serious doubt over any possibility of Ukraine ever joining the European Union, thus relegating the future course of the country to the caprices of Russia, meaning a likely eventual end to Ukraine's free press, economic growth, and democracy in the near future! Woot! Wednesday, 26 November 2008 The economy has changed DJ'ing. A lot of Moldovan DJs are spinning in Romania because there's more money to be made in this country. They are welcome, actually, as they are filling a void left by departing Romanian DJs who are jetting to Poland and Hungary to make bigger bucks. Meanwhile, Polish and Hungarian DJs are turning up all over Germany and Austria. And the German and Austrian DJs are flying out to Moscow, where oligarchs with murky pasts are paying them triple what they'd earn in Berlin. I myself live in Iasi because the cost of living is cheaper (rent sets me back only ten dollars a month, though I share a room with six other DJs). The city has its own airport and dedicated airline (the planes were donated sometime after the first World War), so it's convenient for me to fly off in a SPAD S.XIII to various destinations like le Suquet in Cannes, where I might DJ from atop the Tour de las Castre for an audience of several hundred lucky NRJ FM radio contest winners. Lately I have accepted some gigs in the United States (all in Queens, NY) because the dollar has been doing relatively well against the euro and the Romanian leu. And America, my country of origin, has now dangled an exceptionally enticing fruit of temptation before me. You see, I am considering an offer President-elect Barack Obama has extended me: a personal invitation to join the Obama White House in the capacity of House DJ. I would replace the U.S. Marine Band (popularly known as "The President's Own," so Obama can do with it as he chooses). This makes abundant sense. Paying one guy to handle all the music at the inaugaration is wiser than shelling out salaries for 130 Sousa-playing musicians. I mean, who really listens to Sousa anymore? Fuck Sousa! Sunday, 26 October 2008 The European Ornithological Society has completed a grueling project wherein every individual bird in Europe has been tagged with a tiny transmitter. The tag identifies the species and provides specific information about that bird. So, if one is confused as to which species of Calidris sandpiper one is observing, simply point a hand-held tag reader in the direction of the bird in question and—Voila!—the bird will be properly identified for you. Plus, you can learn where and when it was captured and tagged in the first place. Amazing! Since the tag is a transmitter, it also serves to locate birds, which is great news for birdwatchers pursuing a glimpse of the rare red-breasted goose on the Danube. And it's just as useful for hunters attempting to track down a rare-red breasted goose for the dinner table! :-) Sunday, 26 October 2008 (cont.) Thursday, 23 October 2008 Today's Question of the Day Today: To turn my life around, should I join the Objectivists, the Scientologists, or Alcoholics Anonymous? Thursday, 23 October 2008 (cont.) Wednesday, 22 October 2008 I was witness to an extraordinary competition held between Objectivists (adherents to the writings of Ayn Rand), Scientologists (adherents to the writings of L. Ron Hubbard), and Jehovah's Witnesses (crazy muthafuckers). Goal was to convert the most people to their philosophy/religion in 24 hours. It was not much of a competition. Since it was held in Germany, the Scientologists were rounded up and gassed. The Objectivists won, largely because confused Germans kept asking the Witnesses, "Was ist 'religion'?" To be honest, I have always been foggy about what Objectivism is, since Ayn Rand wrote only a few thousand pages on the subject. Fortunately, the Ayn Rand Institute offers DVDs, CDs, supplementary non-Rand-authored works, and symposiums to help clarify what wasn't obvious in Rand's massive tomes. That's the Ayn Rand Institute. Visit the site today! previous page >>> |
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