Monday, January 17, 2011
Available for Private Events
This November, Rumi Kitchen, Noami Salami, The Truth and I blessed the home of Marj Rosenblum with an intimate acoustic concert. The night was filled with food, music, and stories. A local gypsy fortune teller even came to share the future.
I really pulled through with this emotional version of "Hit it From the Back". As you can tell my arm is in a sling. I sustained a fracture in my elbow.
Here is the story:
In early November, I left my South Philly Apt late at night to play my numbers and maybe get some chocolate milk.
I stopped at the 7-11 at 10th and Snyder, where I saw my old friend Tony, who I knew from St. Raphael Academy in Pawtucket. I hadn't seen him in years. I dated his sister Marie, who also moved down here. For years, Antonio had a great gig Dj-ing weddings and other events. His sister used to be a plant at the events to get people moving on the dance floor. Apparently no one would question if she was invited or not. She had a familiar face.
So I was real surprised to see him, and find out that he was still Dj-ing weddings. I'm trying to get into private events myself, and I thought it was surreptitious. He said, of course, everything is do-it-yourself now a days, and you really have to set up your own system, set up the disco balls, have an interweb presence, etc.
He also said it just so happens that Marie had recently married a former DJ, also named Tony, who had come into some remote control dico balls that he was looking to get rid of, and would I be interested? Now, I have been on the market for two disco balls, one for home use, and one to use professionally.
He said I could get two balls for $125, which is a steal, considering Dino's Party store on 9th and Morris wants to charge me $80 for one them, which is bullshit, and they know that.
So I jumped in Antonio's car and we went over to 7th and Shunk, where Marie and Tony were staying with his mother. Tony said the balls were in the basement, and we had their permission to go get them. Apparently we had to into the basement through the bulkhead to get them. Tony was selling them on the sly, because Marie wasn't supposed to know he wasn't still Dj-ing.
Tony asked me to go in by myself, which I thought right away was a bit suspicious. But he had been listening to the rebroadcast of Radio Times with Marty Moss-Coane, and I had heard it earlier, so I agreed.
So I open the bulkhead to the basement. It's totally dark, except for the light shining down from the kitchen through the closed basement door. I sneak down, as I as was told not to wake the house, and begin to look around for the disco balls. I can actually see them, reflecting the light from the kitchen. I grab them, and I am about to leave, when I hear some wicked weird sounds coming from upstairs. They are sexual in nature, I think, but I am not certain. It sounds a bit like crying, and chewing. Someone is playing "Back in Black" over and over again. I can't make it out, everything was so confusing, but I couldn't tell if someone was being hurt.
I slowly climbed up the steps of the basement, holding my breath and listening. I hadn't really formed a plan of what to do, I figured I would just wing it. The crying got louder, someone else was screaming what sounded like medical jargon. The ten o'clock news was blaring about healthcare reform. I really couldn't make it out.
Just then the door opened. Marie was dressed in sequens and clown face. She screamed. I screamed, and then fell down the steps. I grabbed the disco balls and ran out to find Antonio gone. I then blacked out.
I am still healing from the incident, two and a half months later. I still don't have full range of motion in my left arm, which the doctor said is ok. Apparently Alan Iverson doesn't have full motion in his shooting arm, and he is a bigger celebrity than I am.
Enjoy the video, then please hire me to do your next private event. I have my own equipment, including a disco ball, which I got cheap.