Jean du Voyage & some Afro Soul

Start this mix here or click below to listen to the whole mix. Still not sure who this is but damn does it here somewhere near the bottom chakra, base level of existence. Afro/soul/voodoo/drums. On repeat for the next 3 hours.

 

Jean du Voyage, I’ve been stuck on a few of this guys songs. The first one is some solid progressive hip hop, a guy named Quadir Lateef. The second a dreamy Aaliyah-esque number with a solid back beat reminiscent of Mount Kimbie.

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The girl who tweeted #wolf

The girl who tweeted #wolf1402092_748034358556634_538969120_o

What happens when your nervous breakdown goes viral? What do you mean I’m not a wizard Harry Potter? These are the types of questions I get to ask myself every day when I wake up in the middle of the night in my delusional state. I also get to remind myself how to count and that every number 1-10 does not have a very important significance but then again my brain is still recovering from my paranoid manic episode.

Mental illness has run in my family as far back as anyone can soberly remember. My brother and grandmother suffer from bi-polar disorder on my maternal side and on my paternal side we have debilitating anxiety and a streak of alcohol abuse. So between the two I was bound to loose. Thanks mom and dad! Sarcasm only runs through my siblings so they’ll think this is a jab at them when it’s really just a way for me to get my feelings out without taking it out on them.

I’ve been out of the hospital for a month since I was admitted for psychological evaluation. The jury still isn’t in or wither or not I have bi-polar disorder or if I just experienced a manic break from PTSD after a drug induced state. Who’s really to say but me and I can’t tell one way or another. The music man started playing me songs a few months before I went crazy so I can say it has been brewing for a little while. I’d been eating LSD for almost 10 years so maybe the drugs finally got me down or I finally developed into my adult brain and really am just bi-polar, only time will tell. And passing every piss test with flying colors or you know, clean piss. Whatever the fuck that proves. In my book it’s not much other than I can’t hold my own anymore in a drinking contest but I can convince a 10 panel test that I’m a fit candidate for a job. They keep saying it’s all that damn fake weed I was smoking but doctors must have to pass some sort of lying litmus test in order to believe fake weed could make a 25 year old woman call the cops on herself. I know weed, I smoked it every day for 10 years and I know what I was smoking wasn’t fake. I had a nervous breakdown from trying to out positive life. Which no matter how many raps you spit you cannot do without a trip to the looney bin or pen or both if you’re lucky like me and get put on a locked ward.

So what went wrong you ask? Imagine sending all of your closest friends a text that said you were raped. And then waking up two days later and realizing you had been roofied and thought you had raped three men. And then waking up for real in a mental institution and knowing it all stemmed from being molested and that the original evil of my past that rears its ugly head every few years in ways I never imagined, was back.  Thanks nervous breakdown, I had almost forgot or gotten over it or something. How petty of me to have the audacity to get over something that I’m bound to be tormented by for life. Waking me from pleasant dreams to show me that I’m not Superwoman and that I’m not a wizard Harry Potter. Who lied to me…my own imagination that’s who.

I did voluntarily take a “normal” single dose of LSD out on a communal regional event held every year where participants are not encouraged to do drugs but you know, drugs happen. I was also accidently dosed on some not so researched chemicals that came out of Japan, so said the medical team who got to evaluate me. But what do they really know since you can’t test positive for said research chemicals. Either way after my fight with Mother Nature and a second nickname of stormchaser this gypsy queen couldn’t rationalize shit if it didn’t fit into my psychotic grandiose idea of life. (More to come on that joyride).

Please note if you or someone you know needs help with mental illness there is always someone willing to listen and lend a hand or an ear at 1-800-273-TALK (8255). Mental illness is a real condition that I have been dealing with my whole life and without proper care wouldn’t be alive today without reaching out.

Spinning fire to the supreme illusion

I recorded this video almost a year ago when I first began spinning fire but finally decided to share it with the world and the nay-sayers. I still watch it and cringe a bit since my skill level has come a long way but its worth a share since everyone has to start somewhere. I finally get my fans back next week after a 2 month stay at the boyfriend’s place, why so long you ask? My next post will explain a bit of what has been going on in my life.

 

CoCoRosie- Houston’s House of Blues 11/03/13

CoCoRosie comes to town and brings out the dirtiest & grungiest of Houston, I loved every minute of it. The show was just what I hoped for, avant garde, fresh, full of bass, with a healthy topping of theatrical weird.

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Mount Kimbie at Club DaDa Dallas TX 10/20/13

What can I say, this show was everything I expected it to be. I’ve been nothing but obsessed with this group since I listened to them at Burning Man. I had spent the last 5 days on the road at a festival up in Arkansas and had to stay over-night in Dallas just to catch them. Dallas isn’t my favorite city having grown up in Houston but I would follow this band to the stars and back. I was able to stand still long enough to shoot a few videos and pictures. The last picture is of a speaker that was knocked off its stand because the bass was just that deep. John Wayne came out and sung the rap for “You Took Your Time”. They mostly stuck to their new album “Cold Spring Faultless Youth” but came back with an encore I hadn’t yet heard. Overall I was deeply moved by the emotion this group invokes and I may have even shed a tear or two during “Home Recording.”

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