mr. zilla goes to town

Friday, July 16, 2004

no time for love, doctor jones

The last two weeks I've been plugging away on a slightly tangential but nonetheless challenging and curious comissioned project in order to further the modest goal of becoming the world's greatest DJ. (Plan B is still to play professional ice hockey in Eritrea).
It's still music to dance to, quite vigorously in fact, but in a scene where a person up the front issues verbal instructions rather than aural cues for the crowd to follow. And people pay wads of money to go to these clubs every year. Some pay up every month and never cross the doorway.
The final dub is being burned as I speak, in a limited edition run of precisely two.
Got it figured out?
Well if not, I'll let you know when I get back from Vegas on Monday. If I run out of readies at the blackjack table I can always cash in my soul.
Update. Spot on Deano. Except for the card table part. Speaking of which, the cards and so forth were kind enough that I've come back down a mere few bucks. A free room in the Hilton helped. Unscathed even. Vegas, baby! Vegas! And owing to tightly rationed sleep and red eye flight back to DC just in time to shower and go straight to the office this morning which has given me quite the twitching eyeball at present, that's about all I've got on the subject for the moment. But for now here's a tale of someone else who was in the Aladdin on Saturday night.
Vegas, baby! Vegas!


  • So you're not going to set up a card table & sell CDs after every sweat-inducing session?

    By Blogger Dean, at 1:54 am  

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