| Hold me, like the river Jordan. |
[25 Jun 2009|11:23pm] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Michael Jackson "Will You Be There" |
] |
Being 10 was tough.
I was the oldest male in the family, but I was the third oldest of four children and had serious middle-child syndrome issues. I always felt like my brother got babied and showered with attention and, of course we'd fight a lot like brothers do, I always felt like my parents took his side in everything. As far as friends went, I hung out with all the athletes - you know, the guys who grew up to be the "cool kids" and jocks in high school. I know that sounds very uncharacteristic of me now, but that's who I thought I wanted to be then. Around 10 is when I started realizing it wasn't.
So I acted out. I screamed, I cried, I swore. I chased my oldest sister into a locked bathroom with a chair once; there's still marks on the door from me trying to break it down with said chair. I lived in movies, and worried my teachers with long essays about Freddy Krueger. I listened to Michael Jackson's "Will You Be There" on my Free Willy soundtrack (on cassette tape!) over and over again. I felt so alone, and I took a lot of comfort in those lyrics. To this day, it's still my favorite song.
My mother started taking me to a therapist, thinking that my problem was rooted from a difficulty dealing with my hearing disability. "How absurd," I thought. "I've lived with it my entire life and never known anything else, why would I suddenly have a problem with it now?" I instantly resented her for not knowing me. The therapy sessions themselves made even less sense: 20 minutes of my mother telling him what she thought was wrong, then a 5 minute discussion of what my week was like, then 20 minutes of nerf basketball and very little conversation. I swear, the doctor didn't think anything was wrong with me - but he never said anything, which made me resent the concept of therapy as a whole. Are they just in it for the money, or do they really want to help people? I know the true answer now, but I assumed most were in the former category then.
I eventually realized I needed to make a change. I didn't like who I was. I scrapped the friends I had (please, who needs to have a conversation about the UMass Minutemen basketball team ad nausem?) and started hanging out with new people. I gave up football at recess and played kickball with the girls. I started writing original stories. I listened to more music (after Michael Jackson, I explored Kriss Kross and Shaq, but I eventually discovered better music) and loved it. I grew independent. Hell, I grew up.
Being 25 is tough, too, but I think the hardest time in my life was when I was 10 and I realized that I didn't like who I was. Ever since, I've refused to be anyone that I'm not. Sometimes it rubs people the wrong way, but at least I know they're loving/hating me for who I am and not some role I'm playing. I yam what I yam, and dat's all dat I yam. Take me, baby. Or leave me.
|
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| Stark raving nonsense. |
[15 Jun 2009|10:33pm] |
Happiness, sadness, what's the difference? Wearing a smile or a frown on your face is no different from trying to decide if you should use the ultra-thin condoms or the ultra-sensitive. You could go to a bar and get blitzed; maybe you pick up a chick, maybe you start a debate on the ontological necessity of man with the bartender. The next day, you stumble through the morning and survive another 8 hours at school/work. Or you could go to bed. Take a few extra Tylenol to help you sleep, pass out with the warm glow of the TV and startle yourself awake with just enough to shower and get dressed for another day (another dollar). What's the difference?
I could write more, I could tweet less, I could watch porn every available moment - at the end of the day, can you tell the difference? I can't either.
|
|
| Don't let go. |
[14 Jun 2009|11:29am] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Eddie Vedder - Into The Wild |
] |
I thought for a minute that the internet makes it too difficult to let go.
Deleting links, jpegs and old e-mails is no different from one's desperate attempts to erase their pain by burning photographs or throwing out old letters. It's all the same. Tearing down those physical reminders is not the same as tearing down the past. Sure, looking at a happy photograph from days gone by makes you sad that you're not still in that happy moment, but you gotta remember, Geoff, that the moment was only that: a moment. And getting rid of those remnants won't make you forget them any sooner. So don't. Don't forget. Remember.
It may feel like a lot of baggage to carry for your future travels, but it's not.
And just because it's easier to find everyone you've lost doesn't make it any better or worse. If anything, it helps you keep from ever really losing them. It hurts sometimes, but life is pain. Life is a sexy molotov cocktail of pain, misery and unabashed tears - with smiles in between each sip. Enjoy it all.
You've seen Eternal Sunshine Of The Spotless Mind. Would you erase every memory of a person if you could? I wouldn't.
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| I wish you my kind of success. |
[31 May 2009|10:26pm] |
I remember in my sarcastic know-it-all youth thinking that the best way to get someone's attention is to hurt yourself or run away (absence makes the heart grow fonder?). I also remember outcrying the perils of technology and the many online interfaces that society was starting to rely on, thinking they meant the end of our humanity and our ability to truly connect. And I remember thinking freedom and independence were the most important things - jobs, school, friends, family, relationships are just traps that weigh you down.
How wrong I was. And worse, how sure I was that I was right.
The best way to get someone's attention is to touch them. In the place where it counts, where all the veins meet.
The internet has not made us lonelier or less human. If used properly, it helps us connect more with the people we care about. My heart swells when a friend hugs me, yes, but that doesn't mean I can't instantaneously smile/laugh/cry/shout/frown when a friend updates their Twitter. Or posts a note on Facebook. Or tags me in a MySpace photo. Or shares a YouTube video. Or recommends me on LinkedIn. Or IMs/texts me with a smiley face. It's all worthwhile, and it all touches me. Where it counts. Even if I'm not physically touching them at the moment.
Freedom is a wonderful thing, and I don't mean freedom of speech or religion or other rights. Those are all wonderful, and I do believe we should have those. I mean absolute freedom. The truly free man has no obligations. This means no friends, no family, and no loved ones. Not even a pet or a plant. And the only truly happy person is one with no memory. Who wants to be happy and free? Not me. You gotta take the bad with the good. And caring about someone isn't a cross to bear; it's what life is all about. "To know even one life has breathed easier because you have lived. This is to have succeeded" (Ralph Waldo Emerson).
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| This is our last goodbye. |
[30 May 2009|09:23am] |
| [ |
music |
| |
The Verve Pipe - "Barely (If At All)" |
] |
When my love complained, every word
A breath on my last dandelion
And so lovers will leave and their tears
Souvenirs for the very first time
I searched the world reluctant
To find a lover enthusiastic
Speak to me barely if at all
My memory becomes hazier and clearer all at once. And when she comes to me in my dreams, it's through text and online messages. Even my subconscious knows the reality of our cold and distant "relationship," now deceased much longer than I cared to accept. She said so many famous last words, often so bittersweet that it makes you hate her and love her all at once.
I am realizing now, though, that it is not my heart that lay in paradox. And I shouldn't have spent so long hanging on to what I knew would/could/should never be. It made it worse for her, for me, and for everyone else in our collective lives. That was my fault.
Taste perfume that burns my throat
and I am free of envelope
squeeze an instant out of me
And she placed a hand between our lips
How could anything be so precious
She kissed me barely if at all...
I wish a lot of things had gone differently, but I have no regrets. Just experiences. You live, you learn. And for what it's worth, I hope her heart finds every happiness it seeks.
|
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| 'Cause every moment is life slipping away. |
[01 May 2009|01:41am] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Ben Folds - There's Always Someone Cooler Than You |
] |
I have moments (see: hours, days, weeks, months) where I feel as if I'm living a lie.
In any aspect, a perception of a person is often by comparison. I get constantly told by co-workers, friends, family and the occasional stranger that I'm amazing with "that internet stuff." Well, what if I was friends with Steve Jobs? Bill Gates? Tom the MySpace guy? Let me put it this way - if you put Mookie Blaylock next to Adam Brody in a basketball game, you'd probably suddenly think Mookie Blaylock is as good as Michael Jordan. He's not.
There's so much that I don't know and so much that I'm overwhelmed with that at times I hear myself talking and think I'm so full of it. "I must sound like an asshole," I say to myself. And occasionally, I'm sure of it. And once in a while, I get called on it, too. Which is good, because it keeps my ego grounded and reminds me that even if I did know what I was talking about all the time, I should still remember that there will always be situations in life where I make the Mookie Blaylocks of the world look like Michael Jordans.
So I should really stop being proud of myself that I know how to use the space bar. Or fill in a gradient on Photoshop. Or embed a YouTube video on a blog. Or use a hashtag in a Tweet.
But at the same time I also realize that if I were a general leading an army, and I had no idea if a such-and-such fighting strategy was going to work on the opposing force, I would still lie to my troops. "This will work, trust me." Not unsimilarly, there are days where I smile and say, "Yeah, I'm fine. Everything's under control."
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| All that makes us human continues. |
[13 Apr 2009|04:16pm] |
|
I feel a little unwell sometimes, and I doubt I'm any good at hiding it.
I can accept the fact that some people just won't "get it" or will continue to say or believe things that are wrong, or worse yet, continually repeat them because they think they're funny. You can understand why the founding fathers may have been hesitant to put too much power of government in the people because the people are, by the vast majority, dumb. And dangerous. And offensive. And dumb, dangerous, offensive people are often the root of the conflict and violence where people hurt each other over differences of opinion, race and religion. How often do you hear about a brawl in a bar resulting from an intelligent debate?
I just wish more people were open-minded and saw things without bias or prejudice. I wish they said things without sarcasm or bigotry. And I wish they felt things as everyone else did. Sympathy is one thing, empathy is another entirely. In these tough and stressful times with less money and less jobs, I do hope that we all seek a little more compassion in our everyday lives for our fellow patrons of Earth.
"You know, we're living in a society here!" - that's not a joke.
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| The revolution will be televised, tweeted, and unfairly criticized. |
[04 Apr 2009|01:51pm] |
|
I've met people who say they'll raise their kids without television for as long as possible. It's not a new argument that TV rots your brain or that it leads to sloth, stupidity and obesity. Amanda Palmer recently tweeted that she hates television and thinks that it just makes you dumb.
I say bullsh*t.
I say TV makes you no dumber or uncultured or anything else negative than... well, anything else out there. OF COURSE too much TV is bad. Just like too much alcohol, too many pork rinds, spending too long on YouTube, etc, etc. Too much of virtually anything is a bad thing. Amanda Palmer herself is on MySpace and Twitter too damn much, and I think it'd be a hard argument to make that watching "Two And A Half Men" is worse than following THE_REAL_SHAQ.
I also object to the argument that reading books makes you smarter. If two people had the same life experiences but one watches CNN & doesn't read books and the other reads trashy romance novels but doesn't watch TV, I'd wager that the former would beat the latter in a game of Scrabble. There's quality and there's crap out there in every medium. If you're a parent and you want to raise your kids to read quality books and skip television, don't forget that there are people that are smarter than you out there and some of them are on TV. Some of them are on YouTube. Some of them have a blog. Don't hurt your kids by "protecting" them from all the evils of technology.
If you have kids or you're going to have kids, you've got to let them experience things. Take them outside to play catch. Read a book to them. Let them watch "Sesame Street." Show them your Facebook pictures. Let them experience it all and then they can decide for themselves what they like. Not all experiences are good, but I can't say I've ever had an experience that I wish I hadn't - I mean that. Because I've learned from them. Just like I've learned a few things from episodes of "Boy Meets World."
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| Yesterday I got lost in circles. |
[01 Apr 2009|10:48pm] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Amos Lee - "Colors" |
] |
I've always believed that leading with your heart is taking a step in the right direction. And I've always led with my heart, meaning I'm always stepping forward with my right foot. However, if you keep stepping forward with your right foot, you'll just keep going in circles, won't you? You've got to take a left step here and there. Lead with something else - your brain, your crotch, your instinct.
Does that make sense? Or am I verging on making the worst analogy ever?
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| "And for the tiniest moment, it's all not true..." |
[28 Mar 2009|07:24am] |
|
You know when you're having a dream and you KNOW it's a dream but it feels so real? Yeah, I hate those too.
Around my third REM cycle this morning, I discovered I was at a weird party. Weird is an understatement: it looked like a combination between a sushi restaurant opening (they had baked goods, too) and a promotional appearance for a stripclub. I see her there and I walk by twice, without saying anything. She sends me a text message, encouraging me to come talk to her. She won't answer questions about her kid, or where she is now, or what she's been doing since we last spoke six months ago. She just wants to soak up the moment and be with me, pretending that we have no history, no past - and no future. I resist, but play along; I always did have trouble saying no to her. She wants to hold me and smell my neck, and while she's still intoxicating, I'm stronger. Less apt to get drunk on her smell, her broken smile. I don't fall in love all over again.
I woke up, went to browse online for a distraction from the vivid experience I just had and instantaneously let it go when I saw pictures of... well, let's just say I'm optimistic about the future. Scared, but optimistic - really optimistic. I smiled and got lost in new thoughts and went back to work on a new mix CD. It's been a while.
And as for her... I hope she's happy, but I know she gave up on happiness a long time ago. I still hope - without expectation.
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| Harder, better, faster, stronger. |
[12 Mar 2009|08:29pm] |
|
Reposted from my hot1079.com blog:
On December 10, 2009 - for the first time in my life - I started going to the gym on a regular basis of five days a week. 3 months later, I'm harder, better, faster, stronger. When I started working out, I weighed between 185-190 pounds and could barely do 12 minutes of cardio. Now I'm closer to 180 pounds (I fluctuate) and I do 30-35 minutes of cardio. I feel better, I'm happier, and I've made progress in my ultimate goal: looking better naked.
Yeah, there's a lot of differences in the two photos - one guy has a speedo on (it was Halloween, and I was a pre-bongin' Michael Phelps) and the other's got a beard. I'm not tanner, either, that's just a difference in lighting. But not bad for a dude who hasn't been athletically active since the freshman basketball team in high school, no?
|
|
| "Alison... married... Kevin!" |
[08 Feb 2009|09:43am] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Snow Patrol - "You Could Be Happy" |
] |
My favorite moment in my favorite movie:
I just relate to it so well.
To date, at least three ex-girlfriends are now married. Five have kids. And nine (yes, nine) girls I've dated are engaged or are practically engaged.
I don't have much more to say, other than the fact that the rest of the film is fantastic, too. And the book. The musical version could've been better.
|
|
| Geoff in 2009, meet Geoff in 1999. |
[15 Jan 2009|11:03am] |
Was going through old papers and poems and found this, hurriedly written in chickenscratch roughly 10 years ago:
There's a somewhat quiet sadness in the freedom you feel when you're alone. You watch the sunet once, and you're swamped with an indescribable wave of emotions and thoughts. You look closely at those orange tints in the western edges of the sky and you feel the warmth of it in your skin, giving you an almost divine closeness with life forces greater than mankind. Yet your heart beats rather diminished as you realize you are alone, and you dream of how nice it'd be if next week you could watch that same sun hitting the horizon while you're with someone. You think of how nice it'd be to make love under the glowing sky and remain with your bodies entwined until the light returns. All the while you also can taste the darkness, the blankness that you fear. A burdensome loneliness that weighs you down overtakes you and you know how Jesus felt. You don't want to, but you imagine yourself dead - your body cold, dry and empty - and you see how much alone that possibility is, and it diminshes your present sorrows into an unbearable solitary one. You panic and leap into a silent frenzy of heartaches. An unspoken fear of death that makes you want to kill yourself; you can't take it. You have to find refuge. The elementary solutions are visible to the blind but in a tragic, unattainable way. You think you want to climb onto that firey carpet of dusk and ride that sunset all the way to the other side, past Hades, past Purgatory and into the heavens and nirvana of the human heart. Nay, in truth, you want that somebody. That someone who looks you in the eyes like a sailor on the ocean who sees everything. That one, the one, who blushes and gives a brokenhearted smile when you write about your wearied soul. And in that smile, they blanket you in hope, love, warmth and security. That one who takes your sad heart and gives you theirs. But when will this great trade take place? Hopefully before that sun sets on me.
Until then, I must commit myself to the distractions. I must sit in that lounge chair, outside, listen to trance, watch the sun set, and try to think of other things.
And when the last splinter of orange siphons off into nothingness, I hope you'll be there, holding my hand.
It's interesting to see how the more things change, the more they stay the same. Except I'm well out of my "listen to trance" phase in life. Still, though, it'd be interesting to have a heart-to-heart with yourself 10 years ago. What would you say?
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|
| Bundy knows best. |
[11 Jan 2009|09:05am] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Frank Sinatra - "Love And Marriage" |
] |
"But as the great philosophizer Unconscious once said, 'It is better to have loved and lost than to never have seen Lost In Space at all.'" - Kelly Bundy
For my first day of my vacation, I spent half the day with friends and/or family. For the other half, I watched Season 9 of "Married... With Children." My brother has it on DVD. I can't decide if I love it because my inner child enjoys it just as much as I did when I was in fact a child, or if I love it because it makes densitizing and disaparaging remarks about family, life and love that make me feel better about my own situations. After all, there's great comfort in watching a show to which you can honestly say, "at least my life isn't that bad." It's also twice as funny as I remember it being since I now understand more of the euphemisms and physical humor.
On the other hand, it is a little annoying to have to hear canned laughter every other spoken line. Oh well. All the more reason to appreciate my own reality.
Here's to nine more days of (paid) vacation!
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| No man is a failure who has friends. |
[19 Dec 2008|11:03pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
warm / fuzzy |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Red Hot Chili Peppers - "My Friends" |
] |
I'm feeling sentimental tonight, so I want to pause to reflect on how wonderful it is to have friends. In the past year or two (or ten), I know I sometimes get obsessed with lady drama and may (more than I'd care to admit) overlook the people who will always care about me. I don't mean to - you know that I love you. Below is a random sampling of recent messages, comments, texts and hand-written notes I've gotten from my friends (each of which, I think, unequivocally shows just why I love you all):
"Darling - you are the only person I know who can say something so smarmy in such a charming way! Love you madly!"
"So Miguel and I are driving through VA right now, listening to Deaf The Halls, and Miguel is laughing so hard cuz during O Christmas Tree, when you said you didn't know the lyrics, I basically was answering your comments like we were having a conversation. :)"
"After all, that's kinda our comedy thing - you say something and I overreact. Plus whenever I'm blue I can just remember you casting Anne Frank in Tommy."
"I just finished the book and my conclusion: there is a little Rob in all of us wondering how the hell we got in this mess called love."
"Listening to your 'Treasures Under The Tree' CD. Love it. :)"
"Your rendition of Auld Lang Syne would make Scotland happy. LOL."
"Adri loves that Black Kids song right after... she's like 'Dance!' haha :)"
"Wow, Geoff, this makes me want to buy you a Dr. Pepper every single day just so you will ALWAYS be this excited!"
"While it was last minute, it was SO good to see you in the fall. I think this just shows that our friendship is forever! I hope you have a very Merry Christmas. :)"
"Best wishes this holiday season and for a healthy 2009. Keep your clothes on more next year. :)"
I love my friends. All of you. I'll avoid the obvious Tiny Tim-isms and let you know that I'm thinking of you this holiday season, and regardless of how often I get to actually see you, I'm happy to have you in my life. Truly. Happy Chanukah. Merry Christmas. Happy Festivus. And a jolly Boxing Chrismukkah Kwanzaa Day to us all.
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| Wow. |
[22 Nov 2008|01:46pm] |
It's 1:46 in the afternoon and I just now realized that it was two years ago today that I was in the hospital with a face that resembled a raspberry pizza.
In other news, I'm on day #12 of my new regimen and it's going well (despite temptations). I'm even going to the gym. I'm not going to pretend to be making any more progress than I am, but I'm tired of trying - I'm finding that doing, not trying, is much more fulfilling.
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| Dream on. |
[08 Nov 2008|06:59am] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Solomon Burke - "Don't Give Up On Me" |
] |
I woke up at 5:45, alone (of course), feeling sick and miserable. And hungry.
I trudged out of bed, not turning the lights on, and made my way to the kitchen and opened the fridge, which was empty (of course).
The most disappointing part was probably when I discovered that the new pop-tarts I thought I had bought several days ago was just a dream. In reality, all I've got are some granola bars and sour cream & onion chips. "You know that place between sleep and awake, the place where you can still remember dreaming? That's where..."
The best dreams are the ones that feel so real, you think you could just reach out and touch her. The trouble is, they're also the worst dreams.
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| Try to save myself but myself keeps slipping. |
[27 Sep 2008|08:08am] |
I want to be happy.
And sometimes I really do feel happy, and I catch myself in a moment where I'm smiling over the silly little things (text messages, ridiculous mistakes, weekend plans). I find I'm pleasant with strangers, and lifting other people up, even when I'm not there to entertain them as the radio stunt boy.
Then I second-guess it, and debate with the Little Geoff inside my head: "can anyone really be happy?"
Last summer, I spent most nights and weekends in, brooding or hoping (without expectation) that someone would come online and talk to me. Or let me talk to them. This past summer, I've gone out and done something nearly every day - from road trips to Albany to see the Ting Tings to Roller Derby bouts to clubs and bars to one of my favorite but basic things to do: lunch with a friend.
Lunch is underrated. And I think therapy is, to some degree, overrated. To me, it seems like it's capitalizing on the fact that sometimes we're more comfortable telling our deepest darkest secrets to complete strangers. I'm definitely comfortable sharing a lot, but I still hit a wall of social etiquette - you can't monopolize the conversation or make it all about you. But trading stories, swapping advice, and sometimes just saying things out loud to people who are on the outside looking in can be a revelation of sorts. It's nice to share a sandwich or a burger with someone and realize what's wrong with you. And change them, with a little help from my friends.
And for the those things that I realize, but cannot change about myself, I write.
And I write.
And I self-indulgently write some more.
I've told a small handful of people about this book I'm writing that may or may not ever see the light of day. At this point, it's more of a personal project to realize my flaws that I still haven't seen, but I also don't like to leave things that need to be said unsaid. "For to-morrow I die, and today I unburthen my soul." If unburthening sounds exhausting, let me tell you: it is.
|
|
| Sunshine Carpet Cleaning Company. |
[26 Aug 2008|05:17pm] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Glen Hansard & Marketa Irglova - "Falling Slowly" |
] |
There is no statute of limitations on anything.
Pain, misery, suffering. Happiness, joy, laughter. Violence. Idiocy. Good times. Ridiculousness. No matter how happy you are, there's always a chance you could be happier. No matter how low you are, never say "it can't get any worse than this" - because it can. So take it all in stride, find the punch-line to life's punches, and don't take any of it too seriously. Otherwise, you'll be miserable. Be serious when you need to be, of course, but learn to laugh, too.
I recently had an opportunity to explore the depths of both ends of the emotional spectrum, and I'm satisfied to say that there is no end. To either. And I'm OK with that. So, let me just say to everyone: "Good luck exploring the infinite abyss!"
Good luck to us all, indeed.
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|
| "Fatboy Slim? That guy kicks ass." |
[06 Aug 2008|08:24pm] |
| [ |
mood |
| |
equanimous |
] |
| [ |
music |
| |
Fatboy Slim - "The World Went Down" |
] |
I think I figured out my problem with Z-Trip. It's not his music -- he's a fantastic DJ with a penchant for flipping the old school on its head with a lot of flavor. And it's certainly not his personality - met the dude three times and he's always friendly, personally responds to messages on his myspace and his own site, and even once actually listened to an amateur mix I made of one of his songs and wrote me about it. I don't even mind his overextensions into politics (through tribute mixes) or the fact that he pretty much never talks like a white boy from Arizona. I actually find both pretty endearing.
My problem is all the women in my life that have come between me and Z-Trip.
S bought me a Z-Trip shirt once. R got me a personally signed 7" vinyl. M helped me win a website contest at Projekt Revolution the year he played on the tour. L got him to send me a get-well-soon message when I was in the hospital.
I still love Z-Trip and his music, but I can't always separate the music from the memories.
Fatboy Slim, on the other hand... I can listen to any album of his (except maybe the Brazil 2006 mix) with absolutely no hangups, no reservations and no feelings of anything but euphoria. Beats International, the Housemartins, Mighty Dub Katz, Norman Cook, Pizzaman, Freak Power, the BPA - all of his sideshow characters/projects are equally untainted. What The Beatles are to Rob Gordon (High Fidelity), Fatboy Slim is to me. Just fat beats and fun times.
So...
I'm foregoing the pseudo-book I was writing, and working on something that's a lot less emotionally crippling. How about a new DJ DeafGeoff mix CD?
Crazy blends; samples and examples; squeaks, bleeps and beats for freaks. It's been about four years since the last one I made, and there's a lot of good music (both old and new) that I've been listening to that I'm dying to share with y'all - plus I've made a lot of new friends in the past four years that have no idea I ever made a CD called "Sign Language," or CDs called "Mixology 101: The Flow," "Hiphoprisy," and "Mixology Verging On Insanity." And it's time for a new adventure in music - coming December 2008 (hopefully). And it's going to have a lot less of that Z-Trip sound, and a lot more Fatboy Slim inspired mixes and tracks because you know what? Fatboy Slim is fucking in heaven.
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