It’s Not About Fun: Bitch Collect Yourself. DnB Elements and Drowning.

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View from my Window in London

I am in London. The sound of the city enthralls me and makes me feel alive. Everyone keeps telling me to have fun. Listen carefully. IT’S NOT ABOUT FUN. Arriving to a foreign city late at night as a single female nomad is not fun. I have to provide for my basic needs: How to find food after midnight, how/where to catch a bus. I have to walk with confidence and not appear vulnerable. I don’t think I did that very well last night on the busy streets of London where at least 3 or 4 people looked at me and asked “Are you Ok?” I guess I looked like a lost tourist. Oh yes. I need to eat but I don’t want McDonalds. I found a little convenient store and the clerk asks me about my plans. “Beware of Lithuania” he says. Be careful. Don’t trust anyone. Great. I have ten nights there next week.

Finally at 1am I found the most amazing late night curry dive. I am fed. The morning will

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Elements: Hybrid Minds

illuminate my sense of home bass. This is my home BASS central. I sleep hard knowing that soon I will walk 2 blocks to London’s famous Egg London Club. I will stay up all night. Amongst an impressive lineup climaxing with Viper Recordings Matrix and Futurebound’s album launch, I will humbly show up in front of Hybrid Minds. This probably will not be fun. I will be alone amongst hundreds of fans, watching all the cliques, and when the music comes on I will dance and I will probably cry, and I will FEEL, and I will PRAY for my friends who struggle and I will THANK God for this opportunity.

Right now I feel a profound sense of peace in my own nomadic solitude. I can hear the sound of my own voice without the clutter of relational complexity. I will continue to purge my grief in the presence of that sacred mathematical sound and receive the waves of deep bass that penetrate my core in a vibration of healing resonance.

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“Bitch, Collect Yourself”

Guess what. Iceland was not fun. The second I stepped out of the airport the wind smacked me like it was about to toss a doll across the parking lot. I scuttled back inside like the little crab I am and added as many winter layers as possible. Let’s try this again. Getting my first look at the stark, dark landscape and frozen crashing waves I am feeling the familiarity of this in my own heart. The Blue Lagoon was not fun. Yes it was on my bucket list for years. But it’s freezing and my nose is feeling frostbitten. The mud mask stings my eyes. The wind is vicious and pushing the waves into my face so I choke on ocean water that has been pumped up from the depths of the earth. It is a Wonder of the World and I keep myself submerged in the wonder because I know it is good for my aching body. I feel like I am surviving in these waves around me and I need to feel like I am surviving. I wanted to leave tears here but I can’t. I can’t shed a single tear because every time I feel a tear rising the wind slaps me across the face. It says “Bitch collect yourself.”

I am in London now in my basic economy room above a Brazilian/Lebanese pub. I am grateful for the hot water, the good food and a comfy bed. I am appreciating aloneness here with windows where I can gaze on the busy four way intersection. My soul is feeling nourished. My needs are met. I am not here for the fun. I am here for something else.

I hope you enjoy (maybe that’s the wrong word) my selections of lyrics and Drum and Bass music:

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