25.2.04
Same sex penguins marry openly. Can't we do it like the animals do it?http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/4352011/
17.2.04
This one's for the children....aaahhhhaaahhhhh...the children of the world....ahhhhaaaa hhhhaaaaa...thiis one's for the children.......let god keep them in hisssss throonnnnnnee aaaaahhhhhaaa.....Sorry - a little new kids on the block for ya'll on this Tuesday afternoon. God I love music piracy.
HOT DAMN PARTY PEOPLE! This weekend was a whole hell of a lot of fun for me and I wanted to say THANK YOU! It's always great to surround yourself with as many people as humanly possible so that you don't think about the fact that you are one year older. The night was a success with no issues with the police, neighbors and we rocked out until I think about 8 am.
Thanks to all of the bands and acts that came out - we debuted bands, exposed burners and ravers to MUSIC OTHER THAN NORMAL PARTY MUSIC (and lived to tell the tale.) For me, this is important because as a DJ, this is about the music, and there are SO MANY types of music that it was a great thing for me to provide a new audience with a night of AWESOME live hip hop acts, indy punk bands from San Diego, The Serotonins and ALL Genres of dance music - house, electro, hip hop, trance, breaks, desert tribal...ahhhh yeah.
The more eclectic we got with the music, the more weird looks I got from people, but at the same time recieved a lot of "FUCK YEAH'S! We need to mix it up more!" and that's what makes it worthwhile for me.
Special thanks to THE SEROTONINS, who rocked out for my bday and then got on a bus the next day to go to Santa Barbara to play another show. I was so grateful for all of their help that I found it in me to drag myself up from a two hour nap after the party was over, and get in my car and go support them in Santa Barbara. As tired as we all were, they put on a HELL of a show and I found myself, once again, dancing like a muppet on the dance floor. Can't get enough of that shizznit.
Brent and Jupiter and DeeDee - we could NOT have done this without you. Brent and Jupiter (along with many of the Serotonins and DeeDee) were with me at the space on Friday before the event until 3:30 in the morning, rigging lights and checking sound. Jupiter ran sound for ALL of the bands AND the DJs, and lived to tell the tale. Thank you Jupiter, the community may not realize but YOU are often what makes us sound so good.
KJ and Paul - holy crap you two get better looking everyday. Roo and Lisa, you made my set by lighting it on fire, and Richie, i've never sounded so good than when you are playing your keyboard with me. How hot is Marianne Willams? Barker: WoooWooo! Is there a train coming in? No, that's just me trainwrecking! Rana and Ruben - we double parked you because we didn't want you to leave. And HOT DAMN those Pocket Rockers fans are good lookin'!
And to everyone that came out last minute after JUST finding out about my party through my web site - new people ROCK.
Wolfie, you were missed, but we are able to make a donation to the cancer society in honor of your father. That in itself, made all of the backstage terror worthwhile. We love you and can't wait to see you!!! (Wolfie, FYI, is back in Los Angeles as of sometime today....oh! the cat's out of the bag now!!!)
Thanks once again to the community that came out to support, you fuckin' rock stars!
PICTURES COMING SOON ON PORTERTINSLEY.COM!!!
12.2.04
I mean really. Who CARES if I want to get married to a woman, man, goat, sheep or WATERMELON! I should have the damn right to say "I do" to anyone I CHOOSE, goddammit. Today on CNN I heard someone in a soundbyte, "I don't have anything against anyone, I just don't think gay people should be allowed to get married."Read that again.
That's like saying, "I'm not prejudice or anything, I just don't like black people."
What is so fascinating about control? About imposing YOUR beliefs on someone else's life, a life that's not hurting anyone, and only wants to exist in this world peacefully?
And straight people wonder why gay people "have to" live in their own communities with each other. It's because they CELEBRATE their awareness - growing up in a world where you are DIFFERENT from everyone else forces you to develope this keen sense of understanding, compassion, awareness and a sense of community - and when you're forced to live in the "straight and normal" world, where people rot in their honeycombs never getting to know one another in large busy cities, you go insane, or you find others like you. SO YEAH, gay villages are just that - VILLAGES of COMMUNITY where they look out for other human beings they way it should be.
Nevermind the fact that some of them wear pink spandex to the 24-hour fitness on Santa Monica Blvd. (the gay community has it's own fashion disasters) and that some times they skip down the street with nonfat frappaccinos in hand singing "Don't cry for me Argentina" at the tops of their lungs - they're happy, why do you give a fuck and why do you care so much? The United States, after all this "gay" hoopla, should be taken over by Canadian rule.
3.2.04
This is my friend Toby's email newsletter posting for the week of February 3rd. He's been backpacking in Thailand, having life adventures you cannot possibly comprehend. He sent me an email about two weeks ago, saying he was changing course and heading north, to volunteer at a shelter for children without parents who are HIV positive. It's a long post, but well worth the time. At the end of it, there is a link if you care to donate. I have also included a picture below.I have learned a lot about myself in the last two months. More in this last
week than the previous seven combined. These last ten days have been so
saturated with beautiful moments that would take a small novel to relate
them all. The best I can do is simply vent what I have been learning, and
hopefully some cathartic cohesion will take place giving you a picture of
what i've been seeing and feeling. I've split this missive in half to aid
with digestion.
I should note that I came to Thailand with no intention of finding myself in
the middle of nowhere, waist deep in snot-muffins. It simply came up.
For the last week i've been living at an orphanage for boys who lost their
parents to AIDS. Seventeen kids, ages 6-19.
I've spent my days working at an orphanage for boys and girls who are all
HIV positive. Fifty kids, ages 1-14.
My mornings are long.
I wake up around 6am and eat sticky rice and chicken with Ood. We talk about
the kids, about stress, about money. He goes off to the office, and I ride
my bike from the boys home down a brown dirt road through the rice fields,
past the old woman carrying a bundle of sticks on her back, around the cows
being herded the opposite direction. The mist in the mornings is incredible
here. It rises from the fish ponds and envelopes the chicken coops on stilts
over the water. When the sunlight comes through the haze, everything glows.
Rural Nongkhai is beautiful. I feel like i'm the only farang for miles
around. Old men in the fields smile and wave when they see me ride past.
Motorbikes packed with schoolgirls burst into giddy squeals when they pass
me. To them i'm not just another rude foreigner. People here are genuinely
kind and curious.
My bike has no brakes. It wakes me up avoiding the gaping potholes and the
chickens. I have to time it perfectly coming into the driveway of the
Sarnelli House. This is the home for kids who have HIV. Most of the kids are
around 7, and most of their parents are dead. Their relatives want nothing
to do with them.
I've learned that there is no language barrier between a child's laughter
and a hug. I am convinced these small children do not speak in thai, but in
feeling. There were never any moments of misunderstanding between us, never
any miscommunications or awkward silences. They simply spoke, and I could
understand.
I have learned that I am a human jungle-gym. And a motorcycle, and a horsey,
and a tickle monster, and a swing set among many other things. During the
morning I play with the children who are too sick for school. They greet me
with laughter, with pokes, with hugs. I don't think they have ever seen
anyone my height. Many games evolved from this fact, all of which entail
throwing out my back while swinging four of them into the air.
"Pe Tohbee! Keun! Keun!"
Two grab onto each arm interlacing their fingers, squealing in delight as I
spin them around. After five times I need to sit down. They're all so dizzy
they fall over, giggling hysterically. I'm winded, laughing with them. This
game was fun until one precocious little cute snot named Gao discovered that
my trousers did not in fact have a belt.
The next time four of them were airborne, a fifth snuck up and pantsed me in
front of everyone.
I'm sure it was quite a laugh, seeing a giant oaf spinning a bunch of
squirts in circles with his pants around his ankles, unable to pull them up
for fear of dropping a kid.
I've learned that you can play a soccer in sandals. One evening after coming
home from Sarnelli, a game formed out of nowhere. Two of the kids were
kicking a flat soccer ball around on the lawn, and I joined them after
watching them in the evening haze. It soon became a game of 7 on 7, with two
little tykes in each goal box, too slow to run with the larger boys. A six
year old goalie named Kay took a solidly kicked ball directly in the face,
throwing his little head back into the goal bar with a resounding clang. It
looked like it hurt a lot, but it kept the ball from going in, so everyone
cheered and shouted their approval. He just stood there for a moment,
confused about whether to cry or smile with everyone's praise coming at him.
He sniffled, grinned and bucked right up. Kids learn to be tough in a boys
home.
We kicked the ball around for a long time on that brown lawn while the sun
set and cows grazed next to us on the road, dinging their bells in the long
sunlight.
I have learned that every child here has a story. This place is full of
them, more dramatic and extreme than any I have ever heard.
The older girls are quiet.
Tadam and Jom are 12 and 14 years old, both too sick to go to school. They
sit and watch us play with the little ones. Tadam contracted HIV when she
was sold to a taxi driver and raped. She is almost blind, but still smiles
and laughes when I try to speak with her in thai.
Jom's mother is visiting for a week before she goes off to work for a year.
She can't afford to keep her while she climbs out of debt. Her mom is HIV
negative, and is too afraid to ask how Jom contracted it. She knows her
uncle had HIV and died from it. The connection there is too frightening for
her to accept. She is tall, pale and lonely, but this is the only place she
can afford to live.
Many children here have survived through attempted abortions, through
abandonment, through extreme poverty. A pair of brothers here were found
scrounging through garbage bins, searching for food.
Harder lives than I have imagined. But they still play, they still smile.
We humans are resilient
if you are interested in donating, please visit this link:
http://www.sarnelli.org
2.2.04
Rumors have it that at the half time show at the Superbowl, Justin Timberlake thought it was Micheal Jackson's chest he was grabbing, not Janet's chest. Ahh, makes more sense to me now.Earlier Rumors
