Creative Writing

^{©2001-2007 J. Beau Buffington}

^{Somewhere between Oz and Mid-Missouri, between Walnut and Broadway, across from Glen’s Café and the Blue Stem art gallery is the Dreamcatcher. One can buy skateboard excessories, obtain an exotic piercing in a sensitive region, or peruse cutting-edge techno music from the Four Corners of the globe. I was in town with my mom, having visited a local osteopath who “listened” to my cranial pulses with his fingertips, cracked my back with two fingers, and snapped my crotch like a wishbone. (“I didn’t even know my crotch would do that,” I told him, “and now I wish that I still didn’t!”) She went to Blue Stem, so I crossed the street, gingerly hopped onto the sidewalk, and passed through the glass door that seems eternally open to Ninth Street. The air always seems a little spicier in the Dreamcatcher, a mixture of incense and cardboard and vinyl and antiseptic solution.}

^{I went straight to the vinyl even though I haven’t got any decks. Having developed a taste for the rougher sounds of British drum-and-bass, my perception focused in on the slot labeled “Jungle”: AK1200--Aphrodite--Dillinja—Grooverider--Goldie--LTJ Bukem. Hmmm, nothing new. A young fellow approached me.}

^{“Can I help you find something?” His dark eyes twinkled beneath the shadow of his visor.
“Ya, man, I’m looking for some banging jungle with the voice of a beautiful diva over the top.”
“Oh yeah? You like jungle? This one’s good.” He handed me a copy of AK1200’s debut album.
“Ya, man, that one is good….I bought it here about 2 years ago.”
“Are you a DJ?” he asked.
“Well, um, yes, no, not really. I make music but I don’t spin anywhere.”
He extended his hand. “I’m Alex.”
“I’m Jason.”}

^{Alex was a young fellow who seemed to grow younger before my eyes: his dark complexion and eyes seemed to exude a boyish charm and impish sense of humor that was contagious. His rhythmic, bouncy mannerisms made me want to dance. He suddenly piped up, “Hey man, do you mix drum samples? Have you ever heard this one?” He slapped the rhythm out on his slender chest:}

<sup>“bum-bum-BA-bum-ba-dum-BA-bum-bum-BA-bum-ba-dum-BA”.
“What is the name of the beat, Alex?”
He kept tapping it out as he replied, “Amen!” He shuffled and shuddered and thumped harder and faster. My mom walked into the shop about this time. Alex piped up again, “…it’s the ‘amen’ beat. Do you hear it? “
Hmmm. I guess I heard it….but maybe not heard it. “Where’s the beat? Ha! Where’s the ‘amen’?”
“Man, ‘amen’ is what you would say if you bought this ‘phat’ vinyl of Lemon D!” He continued, “What about Aphrodite? Did you know he’s coming to Columbia?” He handed me the flier:

“Aphrodite spins mind-bending, earth-quaking, booty-shaking drum-and-bass at Pure Lounge, November 7, 2001.”

It was destiny. I had first heard about Aphrodite when I bought MixMag’s double disc of Mickey Finn and Aphrodite: TakeOver Bid Vol. I while I was living in Britain, eating lifted, mad-cow beef and learning to roll in my spare time. Now, he was one of my favorite DJ’s and I couldn’t imagine the opportunity to get to see him in person. But why would he come here to Columbia? I thought he might have a good fan base in KC or St. Louis but I saw on his schedule that he wasn’t going there: San Francisco—Phoenix—Dallas—Columbia—Philadelphia—Atlanta—New York.” Columbia? That one seemed to stick out like a sore thumb amongst stubbed toes.</sup>

^{Fast-forward three weeks to the night of the show. I got to Dreamcatcher at about 8:00 PM. Alex wasn’t there. I looked over the counter at the glittering, effeminate man who was chatting with two lovely women looking at vinyl hotpants. I really don’t know why I didn’t ask him about Alex; maybe I did, but his reply didn’t leave an impression. The girls did.}

^{I got to the nightclub well before the show would start, drank a beer, cased the dancefloor, qi-konged to clear the energies, pipedreamed about how cool it would be to party with Aphrodite. The club soon began to fill with people of all shapes and sizes: glittering blondes in white halter tops, button down frat boys with gelled hair slicked down like a shiny road hazard, floppy-dreadlocks thrasher guys in saggy cut-off jeans, painted mimes dressed in golf attire.}

^{The pre-show soon swelled into a throbbing kaleidoscope of glitzy colors, glitzy lights, glitzy beats, and glitzy boys and girls. I didn’t know whether I would have an opportunity to meet the Grecian goddess namesake of British drum-and-bass dance music but I brought my flutes in the chance that we might make beautiful music together, Aphrodite and me.}

^{I went out to my van and returned to the nightclub with my flutes in hand. I confidently approached the well-muscled bouncer. “I want to jam with the DJ’s.” He carefully sized-up the police-baton sized aluminum flute as his brown eyes narrowed and brown muscles flexed. Quickly, I put the flute to lips and summoned a distant tune from its metallic shell. His narrow eyes widened, his dark eyebrows arched upward. He mouthed several syllables into the microphone headset he wore. He extended his elbow at 90 degrees to his body and thrust his palm towards the door. “Wow!” I thought to myself…it’s like I just passed the first test or something. Wait! I had passed the first test!}

^{I walked quickly past the bar, through the growing throng of ravers and approached the blood velvet rope partition in front of the psychedelic movie screen: computer-generated lunar landscape fly-overs morphing into blazing stuntmen kaleidoscopes morphing into pink transparent feminine fetuses flickering forth like wrinkled rose petals tumbling down the hillside. Right about that time, the music had commenced its wicked, rolling breakbeat surge and flow. The air shimmered with excitement.}

^{The cute sugar-frosted blonde stared innocently from the other side of the rope and looked me square in the eyes. I materialized the snake charmer once again and started to say, “I want to….” She opened the clasp without batting an eye. I walked through without breaking stride. I had passed the second test!}

^{Just as I stepped through the threshold, that iridescent man in skin-tight tiger-stripped shirt and those scintillating, etheric goddesses fluttered past from the other side. The boy flashed his designer smile and one eye flashed and twinkled as the other dulled to the dramatic crescendo of the music. I was momentarily stunned by the brilliant flash of femininity the two women had impressed upon my mind's eyes. Like a flashbulb of sexuality that went off with pupils fully dilated, the image of his two highly preened female companions was slow to fade in my memory.}

^{I worked over a few riffs and inched toward the short staircase leading up the stage. With certain trepidation, I stepped higher, higher, HIGHER! I stepped through the smoky, fog-machine threshhold of a new atmosphere. I stepped off onto the edge of the stage where I gained a bird’s eye view of the DJ’s decks and his flashing lights and switches and buttons. The glowing orbs were within my reach! I had passed the third stage!}

^{The MC took a step towards me. I shouted again, “I want to….” And the words were washed away like saplings in the deluge of British jungle flood. Again, I pressed the flute to my lips and a snake charm came floating up from its shiny guts. It was in the same key! The MC thrust the microphone to chin level and I reverently blew a single note that floated out over the stage, percolated over the electronic breakbeats and angry plunging sub-aural baseline onto the dancefloor where it pooled in the currents and eddies of grinding mechanical rhythms and tantric ravers. The hair stood at attention on my neck.}

^{Abruptly, unrhythmically those same glittering halter tops and golf-clad mimes and thrasher dread dudes began to knit and bob with quizzical countenance. Their white halter-tops stopped knitting, their velour visors stopped bobbing, the thrasher-dreads stopped rattling like a beaded curtain skirted by a nightvisitor and all hearkened to listen. Suddenly, the MC pulled the mic away.}

^{“Sorry, gain bumpfff tungle jeething…” he mumbled.
“WHAT?”
“The gain isn’t set right,” he said almost apologetically.}

^{Still, he thrust the mic forward. I blew another note against the rhythmic shakes and surges. The MC’s eyes widened. The ravers surged closer as eyes narrowed in to the true source of the earthy tones. They began to float towards the melodic waterfall, drawn by a sudden organic urge to merge with this curious sonance which emanated as if by spontaneous combustion amidst a barrage of electronic rhythms. There was an audible crackle in the audience; the excitement was palpable and delicious.}

^{I crouched behind the speaker and blew a brief melody, tones that flowed like a quicksilver river flowed down like metallic rain into a hail of mechanical breakbeats. I blew several more notes and played through another brief melody that echoed and flowed as the fuzzy sub-bass swarmed like a nest of angry robot hornets. Mechanical rain intensified. Airy notes flowed out like a gentle reassurance of time and place. The MC suddenly pulled the Mic away.}

^{“The UmFf mYa BloD thE gOufv!”
“WHAT?”
“THE GAIN IS, UH, TOO HIGH…IT’S SET FOR, UH, VOCALS.”
Man, it sure sounded all right to me. But it was his show, I guess.
“OK, whatever.”}

<sup>The DJ suddenly took leave of his decks and stepped towards me. His decks continued their glowing rotations. He smiled and put his hand out to me.
“I’m Jason.”
“So am I!”
Jason and I shouted and strained and shared a few observations above the intense volume of the decks, which were soon spinning out of control in rhythmic dissonance. Jason quickly stepped back towards the helm of the musical steamboat heading towards dangerous rapids. He guided her gently onto the shore. The flourish of ravers waxed and waned.

New decks—new records—new DJ

It was Aphrodite. He stood about my height and had long, blond hair gathered in a honey-colored ponytail with the physique of the fraternity beer-guzzling champion. I wanted to step out and approach him; I wanted to tell him how much I liked his mixes (even though I preferred the rough jungle styling of Mickey Finn, his partner at Urban Takeover Records.) I wanted to play beautiful music for the ravers with him! Ok, ok, I also wanted to flirt with his tantric princesses whose bodies with whom to perfect the Kama Sutra. I wanted to be noticed by him but I remained where I stood while, “When though art bidden” played over and over again in my head like a broken record. He seemed concerned only with getting set up for his gig.</sup>

^{The whole while, pipe dreams began to skirl in my minds eye: I was going to be discovered by Aphrodite and go on the road with him and his entourage of glamour girls and photographers and glittering blondes and raver mimes and thrasher-dreadlocks skater dudes that could fling crooked elbows and bob and sway with sloped backs and such disjointed rhythm they seemed to levitate on the dancefloor.
In the meantime, Aphrodite had commenced his set and began to pace and shake his ass like a mutt with worms. I remained where I stood, crouching behind the speakers but ready to roll into active duty on stage when I was bidden. The frosted blonde brushed by my legs.}

<sup>“You bLoW Iv gRot to gAfeOmNmnou…”
“What?”
“No one but Aphrodite on the stage.”
Phssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhh! All the dreams gone out like that!

In my retreat back down the stairs, I took solace with two things 1) I had passed the second test and 2) I was part of the show now! I flourished a few times behind the movie screen that was on the dancefloor behind the velvet rope barrier: after all, I had passed the second test—I was now part of the production with a newfound sense of responsibility to entertain, even if it was only myself.</sup>

^{I watched the backside of the movie screen as the psychedelic fly-over movies rolled on. After the same scenes cycled through three and four times, I decided it was time to provide some variety. Laughingly, I fingered notes in silhouette against the back of the movie screen as the horns of the Superman theme blasted out of Aphrodite’s decks. One of the roadies approached me with a belligerent grimace. He watched for a moment.}

^{“You’re not playing that!” he finally concluded with indignence as he turned and walked away. A body plopped down next to me. It was Alex!
He bobbed his head with fuzzy recognition, a childlike smirk, and droopy eyelids swimming in saline. “Hey man, you having fun?” His head bobbed uncontrollably. Just then, a cute blonde scooted into the vinyl bench next to him. Our words and gestures were drowned out by the torrential melee of techno music.}

^{My throat dried. I suddenly desperately craved something wet and malty. I crossed the velvet barrier once again, making sure to smile real nice for sugar frosted girl. I moved through the writhing throng of ravers and shouted a few rhythmic “Yeeoohhss!!” on my way through the tangled mess of clubbers, occidental princesses walking like Egyptians, golf-shoe clad mimes and floppy dreads dew rag skater dudes with sloped backs and knee jerk rhythm. All pulsed and shook with embryonic remembrance of fetal gestation within a surging musical womb.}

<sup>I pushed and pulled my way back to the bar where I rolled my way to the bottom of a ‘rolling rock.’ I bummed a cigarette and shouted a few more “Yeehoowhhss” and wound my way back through the undulating melee to the bathroom. Push the door open. Step through the threshold.

Get grounded--Aura check--Place my roses.

Whoa! The lights sure are funny in here. That urinal plumbing looks like it could come alive! I haven't even smoked anything weird tonight! What’s going on in here?

“What’s wrong with the lights in here?” I asked the first guy that came in the door.
“Oh yeah, pretty weird, huh? It’s two different kinds of lightbulbs up there: black lights and incandescent. Makes things look pretty strange. They even told us that epileptics can get seizures in here.”

It made my eyes cross. Push the door open. Step through the threshold.

In serpentine fashion, I wound my way back across the dancefloor. Aphrodite’s appearance had spawned a whole new crew of slicked-up button-down frat boys and their J-crew girlfriends. I tried to be part of that semi-circular dance party for a moment, got pushed into the center, flailing like John Travolta in burning satin then realized that I was happiest on the other side of the velvet rope partition! So I continued winding, approached the blood red barrier, and smiled real nice for that frosted blonde. Her frosting was melting around the edges.</sup>

<sup>Back behind the mental partition, somewhere between Oz and Mid-Missouri, I flopped back into a pink vinyl diner bench just behind the psychedelic movie screen. “If I can just wait this out here, I might have a chance to meet Aphrodite,” I reassured myself.

Twiddle, twiddle, twiddle. Bass plunge, breakbeat, robot hornet swarm. Twiddle, twiddle, twiddle. Blazing stuntment rosettes, Martian fly-over, feminine fetal time-lapse gestation rotations.

In one dramatic crescendo, Aphrodite’s set was over. It was a good one. The crowd was wringing wet and exhausted. I clipped back up the stairs again. Aphrodite already had some fans assembling on stage. Patiently, I waited, smiled, and waiting….now! NOW, I could slip into the conversation! My silence broke abruptly.</sup>

^{“Why did you come here?” I asked.}

^{“Well…” he started, “I was asked,” he finished. The record skipped off the track.}

^{Man, I didn’t think that question through too well. I could have asked him anything else upon which we could build intelligent conversation that would lead to a brief demonstration on my part that might lead to a correspondence that would lead to a studio visit and eventually a slot in his next tour. My words were still echoing in my brain, mocking me and teasing me, reverberating in my mind. As the words came back, they almost came off like an accusation “How could you bring this evil music to our innocent town?”}

^{Ah well, that was that. He was already talking to the other guys again, they were talking about rap and hip-hop and the other fellows looked like fans, like Fat-Albert characters: one short and fat with a floppy hat and the other tall and skinny with BCD-type eyeglasses. The staff in the bar was clearing the dancefloor out. Muscular bouncers in tight T-shirts slammed chairs under tables, paced impatiently and shouted, “Show’s over…..everyone OUT!”}

^{I bolted toward the exit door in the rear behind the movie screen, followed the metal stairs to the alley outside. It was cold and rainy. I was alone. I liked it better inside. I flew back up the metal staircase to the landing then noticed a longer staircase that led down into the basement. I peeked around the corner towards the stage. Aphrodite was already gone. Hmmmm. I passed the third test…..I HAD PASSED THE THIRD TEST! I had come so close to making a connection with the dance-music deity that I had to perserver.}

^{I stared timidly down the staircase leading into the basement. A couple guys from the bar brushed by me. I continued downward. Each step upon metallic step seemed to echo with brash character. Upon reaching the bottom of the stairs, I tiptoed around empty crates of booze, slipped through the cashed tanks of beer and peeked around the corner into the room that flickered with a phosphorous glow. It was the nerve center for the enter club: an electronic spy-hole! There were 3 televisions with closed-circuit video of the bar and dancefloor. One chap about my age with the hair and beard of a yard gnome was looking at digital pictures he had taken during the show. Another spy-hole gnome was playing back a digital recording of Aphrodite’s set. A third was telling a story to a cluster of pretty, young women. I had definitely passed the fourth, maybe fifth test but, hell, who was counting?}

<sup>The roadie who had discovered my mock “production” during the Superman theme in Aphrodite’s set walked in with a couple of girls. “How did you get down here, flute-boy?
“I came down the stairs, Toto. And I don’t think we’re in Kansas anymore.” He frowned and continued on through the doorway into the center of room. The girls smiled as they brushed by me.
“Hey, do you ladies happen to know where Aphrodite’s gonna party?”
“Yeah, we’re going to meet him at Club Rogue.” Club Rogue…that strip joint. Where else would the goddess-namesake of British drum-and-bass dance music be seen between Oz and Mid-Missouri?

About this time, Alex appeared in the phosphorescent glow of the techno chamber. “Hey, buddy! What’d you think of the show?” The sugar-frosted blonde appeared and wrapped her arm around his thin waist. He glanced down at her and bobbed his head. “Well, Alex, we gotta make some tunes together soon! Maybe next time I come to Columbia, huh?” The blonde was practically dragging him away by this point. Damn. I was 0-2 as far as my DJ networking skills were concerned.</sup>

^{Suddenly, another roadie popped into the spotlight. “Aphrodite’s outside and we’re ready to go!” It was more effective than a fire-drill to clear that basement out. Soon, we were outside in the rain, dividing up passengers and cars. Aphrodite was going with that thin, balding owner, the Dave Mathews look-alike. Alex was gone. I was alone again. Me and my flutes…“Well, see you guys there…” and I couldn’t hear the sound of my own voice with the sound of car doors slamming and vehicles screeching onto the wet pavement.}

^{Club-Rogue. Hmmm. I went to a show there one time on my friend’s birthday. It was a long time ago but I thought I recalled how to get there. I didn’t. I got off the interstate twice to ask directions. And I didn’t even need to get on the interstate even once. The second time, for some reason, I was compelled to buy a watch, a rugged-looking Boy scout number with a Velcro band. Maybe I was just too embarrassed to ask the female clerk for directions to a strip club with empty hands.}

^{By the time I got to Club Rogue, it was closed. I checked the time on my new watch. Hell. I hadn’t even set the damn thing yet. It had to be past 2:00 a.m. anyway. I ran my hands over the contours of the facade columns that camouflaged the door from casual observance and listened intently for any sound from the other side. Nothing. It was closed all right. I looked around. There was no one and no traffic on the street. The only light was the sign from the “Lucky 7” Motel. I crossed over the street and rang the bell on the outside of the lobby. A middle-aged Indian woman with wiry hair in disarray popped her head up and impatiently asked me if I wanted a room.}

^{“Is Aphrodite staying here?” I knew it was a long shot but it wouldn’t hurt asking. Ahhh well, it was worth a shot—all of it. I had come so close that I had to know if this was the end of Aphrodite’s road as it would be for me. Maybe I could catch the party out by the pool…never mind that it was November and surely nobody would be interested in swimming. She flashed a pinched grin and subtly nodded her head.}

^{So I got my roomkey with curvy, pink plastic fob dangling, pulled my “Silver Bucket” minivan around, grabbed my toothbrush, flew up the stairs, flung the metal door open and entered into the room. It unfolded like the inside of a stale vagina: pink curtains and bedspreads with deep sanguine shag carpeting and a red vinyl chair. Quite a fitting conclusion to the evening with all of it up’s and down’s and surging undulations of embryonic remembrance of festal gestation within that musical womb. I would rest my body on pink satin sheets tonight.}

^{I immediately stripped the pink comforter of the bed and threw it to the floor. My mom always said they never washed those things. I flopped back down onto the sheets, picked up my flute and began to work over some of the riffs that the show had inspired in me. About this time, I heard the laughter of a female and the twinkling of a melody, a whimsical sound emanated from the other side of the wall, like the keys of a toy piano being tickled with some expertise. We seemed to play together for a moment, in a brief musical question-and-answer. In spite of the muffled awkwardness of separation by plaster and paper, I was momentarily stunned by irony and suspended by disbelief. Finally, I was making music with Aphrodite! TONIGHT, I HAD PLAYED WITH THE GODDESS!}