Saturday, January 29, 2000

At the beginning of the week, the feet from WAIH's turntables had been removed. This morning, I get a call from one of WAIH's hip-hop DJs, telling me that the head (combination of the cartridge and stylus) from one of the turntables had been detached. This meant that, unless I fixed it, he couldn't do his show (most hip-hop comes to our station in the form of 12-inch vinyl singles).

At first I puzzled over where the head of the tone arm could be. Then it dawned on me: WAIH's rave DJ used it last night at Hurley's because one of the station's party system turntables was with a working head. It was still in the club from last night.

Now that I knew where the part I needed was, I had to get it. I began making phone calls. It's amazing how few people stick around on a Saturday afternoon. I quickly ran out of options as far as people who could get into Hurley's, so I could get the part and put the turntable back together.

I needed a new plan. A quick trip to engineering, and I began collecting. Ten minutes later, I had built a new head from spare parts - support, cartridge and stylus. The hip-hop show began 20 minutes late, but I think the DJ was just glad he could finally start his show.

I'll have to add on to that rant I'm going to make at tomorrow's meeting. First the feet go missing, now other turntable parts start walking. Technically, you're not supposed to sacrifice air-studio equipment for remote gigs, especially without my prior knowledge. I feel more disappointed than angry though.

Speaking of the rave, it went fairly well last night. There was a moderate number of people there - a lot of freaks. The Tall Guy was there as was Freak, but Goth #1 opted to spend time with her boyfriend. I personally, was working at Hurley's that night. My job was to make sure that the back door stayed closed and that nobody started fucking, smoking, shooting up or getting drunk in the men's bathroom. None of that happened during the rave, but before the event started, two drunk girls had to be kicked out of the women's restroom. People just do stupid things sometime.

The Tall Guy showed up in Hurley's about ten minutes after the heavy bass beats began to permeate the club. I had just redone my black nail polish, and also decided to gel my hair and wear it down for the night. The Tall Guy came in wearing full makeup - lipstick and eyeliner, and I asked him if he'd brought his kit along. He held up his little black box, and we proceeded to the bathroom so I get decorated.

A few minutes later, I emerged with black lips and small designs around my eyes (I've learned how to do my own makeup). I walked back towards the dance floor, and as I passed by the person who runs Hurley's, he jokingly said, "Seth, you're working tonight, you're not supposed to go Goth!"

If I was still working films (which I quit) and my boss for that had said that to me, I would have replied, "But I find my job depressing." As it stands, I love Hurley's, and getting dressed up just makes me happy.

I don't get onto the dance floor very much, because I feel that I lack the grace to really move and be taken seriously. I did get my hands on a couple of glow lights, and had fun watching the trails of blue and red.

While I didn't need acid to see trails of blue and red, I didn't need acid to see other odd things as well. Last night a pre-op transsexual entered Hurley's. This is a man trying to become a woman. The Tall Guy pointed out to me that this person has been on hormone therapy, and likes to be referred to as "she."

Personally, I can not fathom ever wanting to go through something like that. Also, the thought comes to mind that, while this person wants to become female, this person will never truly be female. If you look at it from the most basic of levels, no matter how many hormones this person takes, no matter how many operations this person goes through, the basic genetic code contained within every cell will remain the same, and that genetic code will contain a Y chromosome.

While it can be argued that a person's true identity is determined by the makeup of their mind, my point is that no matter how much you may think you're the gender opposite what you are, you're genetic code will give away what you truly are. Until we can rewrite DNA, this person will never truly be female. While the individual may wear a dress, may have breasts, may have an orifice resembling a vagina, ultimately the person is nothing more than a surgically altered male. That "vagina" does not lead to a uterus and a pair of ovaries, and it certainly does not menstruate once a month. Those "breasts" will never lactate. Try as this person may, he will never be a woman.

There were plenty of real women at Hurley's last night though. One of them was The Silent One. Here's what she said to me in the course of the night: "Hi Seth," and "Bye Seth." Some things never change.

The coming week is going to be a muddled heap of feelings. I want to drop a class, but I need to add another one to stay a full-time student. The add/drop period ends Wednesday.

Meanwhile, Wednesday night, The Tall Guy plays for two hours at Hurley's. He always does good shows, and everyone has fun, so that is something I'm looking forward to.

The fun at Hurley's continues next week with the first open-mic coffeehouse on Thursday. I am very looking forward to that. I feel this insatiable need to perform an emotional catharsis through my music. I plan on playing "Deconstructing Erica." If I'm going to make an entrance, I'm going to make one hell of a fucking amazing entrance. I hope Goth #2 shows up for open-mic. While I won't be playing that Sisters of Mercy song that I cover and that she wanted to hear ("Some Kind Of Stranger"), I think she'll be impressed nonetheless. At least, that's what I hoping for.