I have some confessions to make. Many of you who might be reading this may not know who I am or what I am, but most of you either know the others involved with this story, the events that this story includes, or the places and organizations wrapped up in this story. This confession is my perspective, and since I’m no god (though I may be an alien), do not take it as fact.
In fact, I’d rather you just take it all in – the words, the pictures, and the videos – before attempting to comprehend what’s really going on, or labeling me crazy. To some, “what I have done, will be puzzled over,” to others, this will be seen as Socialcide.
To those who really get it – this is just the turning of a new page, a new leaf for a squirrel that left the SquirrelPlex.
Before we dive into the depths of this story, I must set down some guidestones for this journey:
First of all, for reasons that will become apparent, I have a lot of Facebook friends. The most troubling thing is that some of those who I care about the most have not only defriended me, but also completely blocked me. It is a painful lesson, even more so when you know mistruth and pettiness is involved. In most cases, a simple face-to-face conversation, or even a phone call (no excuses because I leave my number on Facebook) would clear up many issues.
Second, I am not a “burner” (though I am one of the few to own a PLF, Party Liberation Front, shirt), I’m not a goth/fetishist (though Richmond's only fetish bar, Fallout, plays prominently in this story), I’m not a punk (though I love their festivals - like Slaughterama and Best Friends Day), I’m not a jock/meathead (though my first trip to Richmond was also the last time I played football - in the state championship game), I’m not an art elitist (though I would someday like to be an elite artist or auteur), I’m not a cop (though I worked for VCU Police as a security guard), I’m not a Cowboy (though I was born in Colorado Springs), I’m not part of the gay mafia or any mafia (or gay, unless I’m a lesbian trapped in a man’s body), I'm not pagan or Christian or atheist/agnostic (all fall short of my standards), and I’m not innocent. I am a bubble hopper (I can’t take credit for this term, but if you read on, you’ll find out who I got it from), and sometimes I pop them too. The beauty of bubbles can only be fully appreciated once you transcend the boundaries of one and see the deeper humanity that is at the core of all human social bubbles. If you want to give me a label, call me an ex-party fiend.
What is a party fiend? They come in all shapes, sizes, and flavors – kinda like drugs, though not all party fiends use or abuse drugs. Some are just there for the music. Some come out to support the DJ like churchgoers go out to support their pastor. In fact, in the age where music can literally change worlds, the DJ exposes the difference between preachers and magicians – speakers and doers. The DJ, scratching and twirling records like a dervish joker whirling and spinning amongst the Sufis, is like a magician dictating the whims and wills of the dancing masses below. In front of the magic, there is always a figurehead, and here, it is the MC, the preacher of a dancing revolution. All revolutions eventually come to an end, though.
“Party Fiend” is also a list or label I created for better managing my massive amounts of “friends” (I have about 40 of these lists to help me categorize and manage faces of people I’ve never really had an in-depth conversation with). Notice that the only difference between friend and fiend is an “r” – which might as well stand for respect, something I’ve lost quite a bit over the course of this story.
It is also important to know a few things about me. I share my birthday with the deathday of one of my great, great, great uncles – Rimsky Korsakov (Russian composer who died June 21st, 1908). Being born on a solstice didn’t mean a whole lot to me when I was growing up in a conservative Christian environment, but having transcended that, learned about other practices and beliefs, and taught the true nature of Christmas, I’ve come to realize the importance of the solstices. For those who are unaware, Christmas is not Jesus’s birthday. It is a pagan celebration of the coming of the sun because 12/25 is the first day that the amount of daylight is noticeably longer than the absolute minimum we experience on the winter solstice (in the northern hemisphere).
This novella is named “Last Friday Confessional – Diary of a Party Fiend” for several reasons. “Last Friday”, besides being the name of several movies, is also the name of a show I helped create with Baylen Forcier for RVA TV, and a name I penned for the show (because it was to be released the final Friday of every month to recap that month’s First Friday artwalk and get our viewers amped to come out the next week). “Diary of a Party Fiend” is a reference to Aleister Crowley’s first novel, “Diary of a Drug Fiend” – a work of fiction that most believe to be based on his own drug experiences. Lastly, this is a confessional, albeit a very public one, about my addiction to partying (if you think you're in this story, you may want to send me a message with an alternative name to protect yourself - I'll soon kill mine).
The last guidestone before we begin this journey is a simple truth that needs to be admitted in a social forum. I’m no longer associated with the Identity Richmond documentary project. Some of you are shocked; others of you don’t understand the context. Just keep reading (the links, pictures, and video are necessary for context), and the story will unfurl like a lotus blossom (beginning 12/3)…
Or a metafictional autobiographical novella for and about 21st century media, a story that begins the day I should have died (April 19th, 2003)...
http://www.mrheadlee.com
http://www.vimeo.com/mrheadlee
http://www.youtube.com/squirrellyjesus
No comments:
Post a Comment
Peace, Love, Understanding, and Truth