Daily affirmations of a word mercenary
Glowsticks Category
I attended my first rave in April of 1996, and some of the most intense learning experiences of my early- and mid-20s took place in front of speaker stacks. Raving is directly responsible for my writing career, my relationship with my loving partner, and the deterioration of my short term memory. Thank you, American Rave Culture!
Floridians
27
Apr
2001
In: Glowsticks
There’s a group of Florida dancers who’ve flown out (almost 20 of them! That’s a long way for so many kids to make it!), and the leader of the crew (Future Tribe Project) was and still is the Florida reporter for Lotus. I swear, if that man says one more overwhelmingly sweet complimentary thing…*sob* He keeps introducing me as “My editor,” and when I protest “Well, I left the magazine, so I’m not really…anymore….” he just smiles and says “You’ll ALWAYS be my beloved editor.” (*sniff*)
Then I had one Florida kid tell me he brought the last two years worth of Lotus with him on the plane and reread each one cover to cover. “You have no idea how you’ve affected me,” he explained. “You don’t understand: you were the inspiration for our collective to begin.” Dear god! I’m stunned by the sweetness. *blush*
Karaoke
15
Apr
2001
In: Glowsticks
My friend Courtney White, who I met years ago in San Francisco when she was a straight edge punk-ass and I was a candy-flipping raver (an unlikely match, granted, but we both liked to dance really hard, so we got along fantastically), is in a karaoke band, Killer Odds. They sing and dance as a band opener in NYC. Love it.
Choking Up
4
Apr
2001
In: Glowsticks
Look at this letter I got today *sniff*
Dearest Ariel,
I almost cried when Nick Griffin told me you resigned your position as editor… I finally cried when I read your last note from Lotus! I am one of those young followers that you helped nurture and care for as we grew up through the scene. I would grab a copy of Lotus and sit up hours at night reading your inspiring messages and words of advice. I would carry the mag to school and encourage other ravers to read your work. I would tell rave strangers to hunt for a Lotus and read it!
Duckeee, my closest rave friend, was inspired by your work, and we created “Imagine”. He was my photography mentor before I graduated high school. And the mentor issue made me realize how important he was to my life. Now I’m going to submit my photographs to Lotus, just as he has over the years. I want to give back to the scene, just as you have.
You have been the voice through out the years that has kept me on path and reminded me why I love this community. I can’t express how much it hurts to hear you leave. Could you continue to write, continue to share your wisdom with us? I would appreciate it if you could.
When I was ready to leave the scene, to walk away and never return, I read your note that pleaded me to share my experiences with others, and not let the spirit die. Now here you go, and I am left wondering, who will keep these lessons alive? I guess I will continue to spread the vibe, just as you have… but I will miss you more than you can Imagine…
I wish you health and happiness and tons of Hugs wherever you go… but we’ll always be here if you choose to return.
Thank you for everything you have taught me, Alison Riley
Ice Caraves
31
Mar
2001
In: Glowsticks
Oh, I forgot to mention that when I talked to Kristin about her time in Antarctica, she reported that raves happen on the bottom of the world! Let’s see…does that mean that there are raves on every single continent? Insane. Check out the newspaper she worked for while down south: The Antarctic Sun. This is a whole world I didn’t know existed. My favorite article is this one, written by Kristin.
Comparison of Ecstasy and Shopping
10
Mar
2001
In: Glowsticks
I developed a theory a year or two ago about shopping and ecstasy use. Let’s break it down, shall we?
MDMA (or ecstasy aka E, X, rolls, etc) is a drug that does many things, the most enjoyable of which is releasing seratonin reserves from your brain. Seratonin exists in your brain naturally, and it’s basically your “good feelings” brain juice (I know, I’m making this way too simple, but if you want more in-depth information about MDMA, go here here or especially here).
Anyway, people who have been using a lot of ecstasy frequently find that it “stops working,” meaning the euphoric, empathic rush dwindles. Typically, users respond to this diminishing return by taking more ecstasy, only to find that that doesn’t work either. (More MDMA just feels like more of the MA part of the acronym, which is methamphetamine. Which means that instead of feeling “lovey,” you just feel twitchy, amped up, and on speed.) Many users then go through a bit of a depression, realizing that the easy nirvana isn’t quite as obtainable, and try to fill the emptiness with something else. Some move on to other, more dangerous drugs (speed, coke, etc), others quit doing drugs completely, and still others find a project or passtime to fill the gap.
Now, let’s talk about shopping. In our loverly capitalist society, we (women especially) are taught that buying something makes us better. That new wiget makes you prettier, more popular, smarter, more on top of it, a better person, a better lover, a better friend, a better person. This socially-ingrained “consumer rush” is something few of us HAVEN’T experienced. We’re taught from a young age to feel good about buying, even if we don’t have the money to pay for what we’ve bought. [Insert image of overweight housewives frothing at the mouth standing outside Wal-Mart the day after Thanksgiving, MasterCards in hand shouting "CHARGE!"]
In 1997, when yours truly was living in San Francisco and trying to recover from a few too many indulgences, I found myself shopping. A lot. I lived in Lower Haight, so I would walk up the hill to Shoebiz and think nothing of dropping a couple hundred dollars for a pair of Buffalos or someshit. And I got a rush off of it. A rush that felt strangely familiar…was that a disco ball overhead? Did someone just hand me a rave flyer and some glowsticks? Oh wait, no, that’s the receipt for the shoes I just bought, and a pen so I can sign my name and owe my credit card the cash. Right. Sorry.
So, putting it all together, here’s the theory: some ravers replace their dwindling ecstasy high with a consumer high. It happened to me several years ago. It’s happened to several friends since then. We’re all still paying off our credit cards.
On that note, I just bought some stuff today! I got a big paycheck from Amazon, and I haven’t been getting high lately (well, not on ecstasy, at least), and so I treated myself to some poicheses:
1. Physioball for me to sit at in front of the computer. Never again will I slouch in my chair–now I perch atop a giant red ball, bouncing as I type these words. Highly recommended, and thank you to my former trainer at Take Shape Fitness for making the suggestion.
2. Aveda Energizing Composition oil. Here’s the plan: I like my hair to smell like Aveda shampoo. But wait, I have dreadlocks–I don’t wash my hair more than once a month! What to do? Get some oil, put it in an spray bottle, and then spray liberally on hair. Voila!
So you see, even yours truly, the commentator on consumer culture, shops sometimes. Yes, I did it. I shopped!
Kick out those rave moves, yo
3
Mar
2001
In: Glowsticks
So, you’ve never been to a rave, but you wonder how people dance at them? Feast your eyes on one style that you’ll see. I’ve always affectionately referred to this as “kickstepping,” but when I do it my arms tend to do these funny “hiya!” kung-fu punching movements to give me a little extra momentum as I’m punishing the dance floor. In other words, many ravers (or at least yours truly) are more of a spaz than this guy. Then again, it looks like he’s in his living room, which isn’t exactly spaz-inspiring.
The Last Note From Lotus
28
Feb
2001
In: Glowsticks
My “leditors” in Lotus were always deliciously personal, pontificatory pieces (alliteration!). They were my opportunity to reach out to our readers, and judging by the fact that even the staff members who didn’t like my style of rambling wisdom had to admit that everyone read the Note, I would say they were successful.
The only thing I’m contributing to the upcoming issue is my Last Note From Lotus. Damn this shit was hard to write, and I turned it in a full three weeks late. Luckily the new managing editor was understanding. The situation reminded me of when my father forgot about his divorce hearing … on some level I didn’t want to write this goodbye, because I didn’t really want to say goodbye. Convenient how your mind helps you deal with pain.
Anyway, here it is, The Last Note From Lotus.
My Beloved Readers,
Lotus Magazine changed my life the first time I read it: the first dance culture magazine I’d seen that more than informed and entertained — it motivated, stimulated, encouraged, and educated. My goal in the four years since has been to pass some of that inspiration on, keeping dancer’s views of culture, health, spirituality, activism, and our community positive, fresh, and honest.
Editing Lotus has always been much more than just a job. It’s been a delicious blending of work and play, learning and teaching, service and hedonistic glory. Anyone who’s been my friend these past years has been convinced to work for Lotus, and anyone who’s worked for the magazine has become a friend. The writing staff has been an extended family, a network of likeminded revolutionaries and thinkers from as far away as South Africa, and as nearby as my roommate.
Finding content has been an organic process: if an idea or article inspired me, I assumed that it might inspire others, and printed it. Many readers wrote letters in response, regaling their own revelations, fueling my optimism and dedication to our community. The process seemed to create a loop of energy and excitement between the magazine and its readers… I can only hope you feel that as much as I do. The feedback I’ve received from readers has been my soul juice, and I thank each of you who took the time to tell me how you felt.
Lotus is its own entity, and one I adopted as my firstborn. When it stumbles, I’ve gasped and given it the little lift and pat on the butt it needs to toddle onward. When it grows (expanded distribution, more pages), I get that prideful glow and lean over to my neighbors, boasting “that’s my baby — look at how big she’s gotten!” Ok, ok, maybe the child metaphor is weak, but if you only knew how many nights I’ve lain awake worrying…
But, like all babies, Lotus has grown up. It’s ready for the next phase of its life, and it’s ready for me to let go. I feel like my dad, who stood at the airport sobbing into his sweater as I flew off to my first semester of college. I know it’s time, but that doesn’t make it any easier. I leave the magazine in the capable hands of Rich Thomas, who I’m sure will be a good boy and bring Lotus back to the dorm by midnight, while I wring my hands and perfect my empty nest syndrome.
And now, onward! Despite my departure, I’ll always cherish the relationship I’ve had with this publication. Many thanks to each of you who contributed, read, or have appreciated the magazine. Your role in Lotus’ existence is more important than you know, and you’ve all made a blessed, delicious impact on my life. An impact that I won’t soon forget.
Dance harder, think more, and love always
Ariel Meadow Stallings
PS: Don’t forget to keep in touch! ariel at lotusmag.com
…happiness and health to you on whatever path you chose…
I apologize for the relative
27
Feb
2001
In: Glowsticks
I apologize for the relative mundanity on this page lately. I’m sort of enjoying my mundane life. Well, that and the really juicy stuff isn’t fit for internet consumption. If you’re really curious about what goes on behind the scenes, you’ll have to email.
That being said, I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want to write. Andrew and I got to talking last night about how the joy and pain of workign with a magazines is the readership. Yes, you can develop a rapport with them, you can feel the love bounce back and forth (as I wrote about in my last Note From Lotus, which I will post here soon), but you are ultimately catering to them. Your existence is dependent on their consumption of your “product,” and so you can’t write over their heads or else you lose them, you can encourage them to think new things, but you can’t really change them. Hopefully you love your readership, because you’re writing for them and if you love them you’ll love what you’re writing.
However, there does come a point when you want to write for yourself. Don’t get me wrong: the relationship I had with the Lotus readership was my soulfood. I thrived off the mutual adoration. I loved my sweet readers, and they sent me letters telling me how much they loved me. That’s a nice job, ya know?
Perhaps I’ve reached a time when I have things to say that ravers, on the whole, don’t care about. Did ravers really want to read about environmental economics? Did they really care about the mentoring articles? How many of them actually read the magazine instead of just eyeing the adds and photos? Perhaps it’s time to write for myself.
Wasn’t it Gertrude Stein who said “I write for myself and strangers”? I believe that was it. I’m incubating right now, getting ready to give birth to that inspirational written egg of truth I know is in here somewhere. I write to get that egg out. I write to mobilize, I write to inspire, I write to encourage, I write to enliven, and I will never write self help books. Ever. I write to keep myself alive, I write to keep others alive, I write to coax a laugh out, I write to educate. I write to learn.
In my former daze
27
Jan
2001
In: Glowsticks
In my former daze as a San Francisco raver (circa ‘96-’97), I learned more lessons in a year that I could really digest. I wrote as many of them as I could down, and even five years later, I read back and am amazed that I managed to navigate so much. Here’s an entry from almost exactly four years ago: January 25th, 1997.
A little history first: the dance community back then (and still now) was saturated with methamphetamine, aka crystal. Before moving down from Seattle, a friend had told me that “whatever you do, don’t touch the white powders. Just don’t.” So, respecting his advice, I didn’t. Despite the fact that many of my friends were strung out (some using crystal to get through Berkeley, others using it to go to work, others using it to do both while still partying), I avoided the stuff.
Until January 1997. The friend who’d told me not to do crystal was visiting from Seattle, and we had the opportunity to do some. He suggested I try it while he was there, so he could “watch out” for me. So, we did. It was part of a long night and even longer day after of excess and hedonism. And it hurt.
January 25th, 1997
Doing crystal last weekend made me see this whole city in a different light. Crystal is everywhere, sprinkling out of the cracks of the asphalt, glinting in sparkled circles around noses of The Awake. Those who exist in a world without sleep, “when I used to be human.” And it scares me. It’s every fucking where and it is the embodiment of all things evil, all things tempting, all things oblivious seduction and innocent addiction.
Now that I’m aware of the insidious horrifying nature of the chemical, I want nothing to do with it. I need to get it far out of my peripheral vision. Smart people get hooked on the shit, and I don’t intend to be one of them to go down in a cloud of shards and the dust that’s left after a soul burns from the inside out.
I haven’t done it since.
Tasty
14
Jan
2001
In: Glowsticks
Last night’s Seelie Court party was, I must admit, a wee bit disappointing. SC is famous for parties with thousands of tulips hanging from the ceiling, fountains built into the walls, and ice sculptures. This party featured….a very cold warehouse, and some unlit strings of christmas tree lights. I enjoyed myself competely because I liked the music and there were SO many people there I adored and hadn’t seen in ages. And the space! Oooh! An amazing big ol’ warehouse just south of downtown, OWNED by a “family member” of the dance community. Nice! It had a little upstairs mezzanine that looked out over the dance floor, and many rooms that could potentially be filled…and no neighbors to piss off. A virgin space–tasty!
It was great to see N and O out, despite their exhaustion from the previous night’s failed Hawaii Five-Oh party…street brawl, mace, pretty boy Scott getting punched in the face…eesh! Glad I skipped that one. TC came out with us as well, and TW came up with Dre and I, and Echo even made an appearence with Duane! Too bad they showed up just as we were leaving. Next time, Echo! We’ll get to hang out!
Today? A trip to le bon marche de target for some tights and boots to wear to work tomorrow, and then laundry. Lots of it.
Floridians
27 Apr 2001 In: GlowsticksThere’s a group of Florida dancers who’ve flown out (almost 20 of them! That’s a long way for so many kids to make it!), and the leader of the crew (Future Tribe Project) was and still is the Florida reporter for Lotus. I swear, if that man says one more overwhelmingly sweet complimentary thing…*sob* He keeps introducing me as “My editor,” and when I protest “Well, I left the magazine, so I’m not really…anymore….” he just smiles and says “You’ll ALWAYS be my beloved editor.” (*sniff*)
Then I had one Florida kid tell me he brought the last two years worth of Lotus with him on the plane and reread each one cover to cover. “You have no idea how you’ve affected me,” he explained. “You don’t understand: you were the inspiration for our collective to begin.” Dear god! I’m stunned by the sweetness. *blush*
Karaoke
15 Apr 2001 In: GlowsticksMy friend Courtney White, who I met years ago in San Francisco when she was a straight edge punk-ass and I was a candy-flipping raver (an unlikely match, granted, but we both liked to dance really hard, so we got along fantastically), is in a karaoke band, Killer Odds. They sing and dance as a band opener in NYC. Love it.
Choking Up
4 Apr 2001 In: GlowsticksLook at this letter I got today *sniff*
Dearest Ariel,
I almost cried when Nick Griffin told me you resigned your position as editor… I finally cried when I read your last note from Lotus! I am one of those young followers that you helped nurture and care for as we grew up through the scene. I would grab a copy of Lotus and sit up hours at night reading your inspiring messages and words of advice. I would carry the mag to school and encourage other ravers to read your work. I would tell rave strangers to hunt for a Lotus and read it!
Duckeee, my closest rave friend, was inspired by your work, and we created “Imagine”. He was my photography mentor before I graduated high school. And the mentor issue made me realize how important he was to my life. Now I’m going to submit my photographs to Lotus, just as he has over the years. I want to give back to the scene, just as you have.
You have been the voice through out the years that has kept me on path and reminded me why I love this community. I can’t express how much it hurts to hear you leave. Could you continue to write, continue to share your wisdom with us? I would appreciate it if you could.
When I was ready to leave the scene, to walk away and never return, I read your note that pleaded me to share my experiences with others, and not let the spirit die. Now here you go, and I am left wondering, who will keep these lessons alive? I guess I will continue to spread the vibe, just as you have… but I will miss you more than you can Imagine…
I wish you health and happiness and tons of Hugs wherever you go… but we’ll always be here if you choose to return.
Thank you for everything you have taught me, Alison Riley
Ice Caraves
31 Mar 2001 In: GlowsticksOh, I forgot to mention that when I talked to Kristin about her time in Antarctica, she reported that raves happen on the bottom of the world! Let’s see…does that mean that there are raves on every single continent? Insane. Check out the newspaper she worked for while down south: The Antarctic Sun. This is a whole world I didn’t know existed. My favorite article is this one, written by Kristin.
Comparison of Ecstasy and Shopping
10 Mar 2001 In: GlowsticksI developed a theory a year or two ago about shopping and ecstasy use. Let’s break it down, shall we?
MDMA (or ecstasy aka E, X, rolls, etc) is a drug that does many things, the most enjoyable of which is releasing seratonin reserves from your brain. Seratonin exists in your brain naturally, and it’s basically your “good feelings” brain juice (I know, I’m making this way too simple, but if you want more in-depth information about MDMA, go here here or especially here).
Anyway, people who have been using a lot of ecstasy frequently find that it “stops working,” meaning the euphoric, empathic rush dwindles. Typically, users respond to this diminishing return by taking more ecstasy, only to find that that doesn’t work either. (More MDMA just feels like more of the MA part of the acronym, which is methamphetamine. Which means that instead of feeling “lovey,” you just feel twitchy, amped up, and on speed.) Many users then go through a bit of a depression, realizing that the easy nirvana isn’t quite as obtainable, and try to fill the emptiness with something else. Some move on to other, more dangerous drugs (speed, coke, etc), others quit doing drugs completely, and still others find a project or passtime to fill the gap.
Now, let’s talk about shopping. In our loverly capitalist society, we (women especially) are taught that buying something makes us better. That new wiget makes you prettier, more popular, smarter, more on top of it, a better person, a better lover, a better friend, a better person. This socially-ingrained “consumer rush” is something few of us HAVEN’T experienced. We’re taught from a young age to feel good about buying, even if we don’t have the money to pay for what we’ve bought. [Insert image of overweight housewives frothing at the mouth standing outside Wal-Mart the day after Thanksgiving, MasterCards in hand shouting "CHARGE!"]
In 1997, when yours truly was living in San Francisco and trying to recover from a few too many indulgences, I found myself shopping. A lot. I lived in Lower Haight, so I would walk up the hill to Shoebiz and think nothing of dropping a couple hundred dollars for a pair of Buffalos or someshit. And I got a rush off of it. A rush that felt strangely familiar…was that a disco ball overhead? Did someone just hand me a rave flyer and some glowsticks? Oh wait, no, that’s the receipt for the shoes I just bought, and a pen so I can sign my name and owe my credit card the cash. Right. Sorry.
So, putting it all together, here’s the theory: some ravers replace their dwindling ecstasy high with a consumer high. It happened to me several years ago. It’s happened to several friends since then. We’re all still paying off our credit cards.
On that note, I just bought some stuff today! I got a big paycheck from Amazon, and I haven’t been getting high lately (well, not on ecstasy, at least), and so I treated myself to some poicheses:
1. Physioball for me to sit at in front of the computer. Never again will I slouch in my chair–now I perch atop a giant red ball, bouncing as I type these words. Highly recommended, and thank you to my former trainer at Take Shape Fitness for making the suggestion.
2. Aveda Energizing Composition oil. Here’s the plan: I like my hair to smell like Aveda shampoo. But wait, I have dreadlocks–I don’t wash my hair more than once a month! What to do? Get some oil, put it in an spray bottle, and then spray liberally on hair. Voila!
So you see, even yours truly, the commentator on consumer culture, shops sometimes. Yes, I did it. I shopped!
Kick out those rave moves, yo
3 Mar 2001 In: GlowsticksSo, you’ve never been to a rave, but you wonder how people dance at them? Feast your eyes on one style that you’ll see. I’ve always affectionately referred to this as “kickstepping,” but when I do it my arms tend to do these funny “hiya!” kung-fu punching movements to give me a little extra momentum as I’m punishing the dance floor. In other words, many ravers (or at least yours truly) are more of a spaz than this guy. Then again, it looks like he’s in his living room, which isn’t exactly spaz-inspiring.
The Last Note From Lotus
28 Feb 2001 In: GlowsticksMy “leditors” in Lotus were always deliciously personal, pontificatory pieces (alliteration!). They were my opportunity to reach out to our readers, and judging by the fact that even the staff members who didn’t like my style of rambling wisdom had to admit that everyone read the Note, I would say they were successful.
The only thing I’m contributing to the upcoming issue is my Last Note From Lotus. Damn this shit was hard to write, and I turned it in a full three weeks late. Luckily the new managing editor was understanding. The situation reminded me of when my father forgot about his divorce hearing … on some level I didn’t want to write this goodbye, because I didn’t really want to say goodbye. Convenient how your mind helps you deal with pain.
Anyway, here it is, The Last Note From Lotus.
My Beloved Readers,
Lotus Magazine changed my life the first time I read it: the first dance culture magazine I’d seen that more than informed and entertained — it motivated, stimulated, encouraged, and educated. My goal in the four years since has been to pass some of that inspiration on, keeping dancer’s views of culture, health, spirituality, activism, and our community positive, fresh, and honest.
Editing Lotus has always been much more than just a job. It’s been a delicious blending of work and play, learning and teaching, service and hedonistic glory. Anyone who’s been my friend these past years has been convinced to work for Lotus, and anyone who’s worked for the magazine has become a friend. The writing staff has been an extended family, a network of likeminded revolutionaries and thinkers from as far away as South Africa, and as nearby as my roommate.
Finding content has been an organic process: if an idea or article inspired me, I assumed that it might inspire others, and printed it. Many readers wrote letters in response, regaling their own revelations, fueling my optimism and dedication to our community. The process seemed to create a loop of energy and excitement between the magazine and its readers… I can only hope you feel that as much as I do. The feedback I’ve received from readers has been my soul juice, and I thank each of you who took the time to tell me how you felt.
Lotus is its own entity, and one I adopted as my firstborn. When it stumbles, I’ve gasped and given it the little lift and pat on the butt it needs to toddle onward. When it grows (expanded distribution, more pages), I get that prideful glow and lean over to my neighbors, boasting “that’s my baby — look at how big she’s gotten!” Ok, ok, maybe the child metaphor is weak, but if you only knew how many nights I’ve lain awake worrying…
But, like all babies, Lotus has grown up. It’s ready for the next phase of its life, and it’s ready for me to let go. I feel like my dad, who stood at the airport sobbing into his sweater as I flew off to my first semester of college. I know it’s time, but that doesn’t make it any easier. I leave the magazine in the capable hands of Rich Thomas, who I’m sure will be a good boy and bring Lotus back to the dorm by midnight, while I wring my hands and perfect my empty nest syndrome.
And now, onward! Despite my departure, I’ll always cherish the relationship I’ve had with this publication. Many thanks to each of you who contributed, read, or have appreciated the magazine. Your role in Lotus’ existence is more important than you know, and you’ve all made a blessed, delicious impact on my life. An impact that I won’t soon forget.
Dance harder, think more, and love always
Ariel Meadow Stallings
PS: Don’t forget to keep in touch! ariel at lotusmag.com
…happiness and health to you on whatever path you chose…
I apologize for the relative
27 Feb 2001 In: GlowsticksI apologize for the relative mundanity on this page lately. I’m sort of enjoying my mundane life. Well, that and the really juicy stuff isn’t fit for internet consumption. If you’re really curious about what goes on behind the scenes, you’ll have to email.
That being said, I’ve been thinking a lot about what I want to write. Andrew and I got to talking last night about how the joy and pain of workign with a magazines is the readership. Yes, you can develop a rapport with them, you can feel the love bounce back and forth (as I wrote about in my last Note From Lotus, which I will post here soon), but you are ultimately catering to them. Your existence is dependent on their consumption of your “product,” and so you can’t write over their heads or else you lose them, you can encourage them to think new things, but you can’t really change them. Hopefully you love your readership, because you’re writing for them and if you love them you’ll love what you’re writing.
However, there does come a point when you want to write for yourself. Don’t get me wrong: the relationship I had with the Lotus readership was my soulfood. I thrived off the mutual adoration. I loved my sweet readers, and they sent me letters telling me how much they loved me. That’s a nice job, ya know?
Perhaps I’ve reached a time when I have things to say that ravers, on the whole, don’t care about. Did ravers really want to read about environmental economics? Did they really care about the mentoring articles? How many of them actually read the magazine instead of just eyeing the adds and photos? Perhaps it’s time to write for myself.
Wasn’t it Gertrude Stein who said “I write for myself and strangers”? I believe that was it. I’m incubating right now, getting ready to give birth to that inspirational written egg of truth I know is in here somewhere. I write to get that egg out. I write to mobilize, I write to inspire, I write to encourage, I write to enliven, and I will never write self help books. Ever. I write to keep myself alive, I write to keep others alive, I write to coax a laugh out, I write to educate. I write to learn.
In my former daze
27 Jan 2001 In: GlowsticksIn my former daze as a San Francisco raver (circa ‘96-’97), I learned more lessons in a year that I could really digest. I wrote as many of them as I could down, and even five years later, I read back and am amazed that I managed to navigate so much. Here’s an entry from almost exactly four years ago: January 25th, 1997.
A little history first: the dance community back then (and still now) was saturated with methamphetamine, aka crystal. Before moving down from Seattle, a friend had told me that “whatever you do, don’t touch the white powders. Just don’t.” So, respecting his advice, I didn’t. Despite the fact that many of my friends were strung out (some using crystal to get through Berkeley, others using it to go to work, others using it to do both while still partying), I avoided the stuff.
Until January 1997. The friend who’d told me not to do crystal was visiting from Seattle, and we had the opportunity to do some. He suggested I try it while he was there, so he could “watch out” for me. So, we did. It was part of a long night and even longer day after of excess and hedonism. And it hurt.
January 25th, 1997
Doing crystal last weekend made me see this whole city in a different light. Crystal is everywhere, sprinkling out of the cracks of the asphalt, glinting in sparkled circles around noses of The Awake. Those who exist in a world without sleep, “when I used to be human.” And it scares me. It’s every fucking where and it is the embodiment of all things evil, all things tempting, all things oblivious seduction and innocent addiction.
Now that I’m aware of the insidious horrifying nature of the chemical, I want nothing to do with it. I need to get it far out of my peripheral vision. Smart people get hooked on the shit, and I don’t intend to be one of them to go down in a cloud of shards and the dust that’s left after a soul burns from the inside out.
I haven’t done it since.
Tasty
14 Jan 2001 In: GlowsticksLast night’s Seelie Court party was, I must admit, a wee bit disappointing. SC is famous for parties with thousands of tulips hanging from the ceiling, fountains built into the walls, and ice sculptures. This party featured….a very cold warehouse, and some unlit strings of christmas tree lights. I enjoyed myself competely because I liked the music and there were SO many people there I adored and hadn’t seen in ages. And the space! Oooh! An amazing big ol’ warehouse just south of downtown, OWNED by a “family member” of the dance community. Nice! It had a little upstairs mezzanine that looked out over the dance floor, and many rooms that could potentially be filled…and no neighbors to piss off. A virgin space–tasty!
It was great to see N and O out, despite their exhaustion from the previous night’s failed Hawaii Five-Oh party…street brawl, mace, pretty boy Scott getting punched in the face…eesh! Glad I skipped that one. TC came out with us as well, and TW came up with Dre and I, and Echo even made an appearence with Duane! Too bad they showed up just as we were leaving. Next time, Echo! We’ll get to hang out!
Today? A trip to le bon marche de target for some tights and boots to wear to work tomorrow, and then laundry. Lots of it.
Hey there. I'm Ariel Meadow Stallings, a native Seattleite who's written my way up and down the Left Coast. Electrolicious is where I post daily randomata, but I also write for a living. My first book, Offbeat Bride, was published last year.
You're reading a page from the archives. Check the homepage for current content.
