Hello there, and happy new year. It’s time for something different\u2014essentially the same but I’m losing lots of things, as well as insistent on gaining more. The new deepsicks layout follows the former\u2014having been birthed nearly three years ago, sections of this website are no longer relevant.<\/p>\n
I don’t believe in throwing away words, but nor do I wish to continue displaying them. Granted, much of the content will stay the same, but some will be trimmed and some discarded, a process that will occur over the coming weeks. The only changes in place as of now (and these are subject to shift) are the homepage and an updated guestbook<\/a>, which with hope won’t fall victim to porn redirections (currently it’s only correctly linked on the homepage). As time allows, the deepsicks empire shall evolve with balance and progress in mind\u2014and mind, less is more and empire extends beyond digital. The time is now to reflect what it is, not what it was\u2014to pursue not what it wants, but what it wants to become. Sleeker. Sharper. Decisive. Killingly on.<\/p>\n Solstice was well received, the holiday was decent, and New Years was a dark horse delivering me to feelings old. On a lark I attended an electro\/industrial event in a warehouse space outfitted with multiple projectors and plastic tarp room dividers, a couple hundred heads and dark-edged noise, all for the price of merely having a really awesome friend who got me on the guest list (thanks again, Shawn).<\/p>\n It felt like a rave\u2014sketchy building, no security, bring your own alcohol\u2014flooding me with memories. At the midnight countdown I went from 2004 right into 1997, stomping in the concrete with strangers and familiars. The attendance was delightfully eclectic\u2014top hats and silver suits, roller skates and big boots, darksiders, easy riders, drag of the d a m n<\/b><\/i> variety,uber-, trash- and business goths, and a couple lost party kids who, upon recognizing my style of dance, rushed me wistful fright-eyed with “I thought this was gonna be techno!” cries. There there, childs. No one’s going to drink your blood.<\/p>\n There was also a troupe of Wookiefoot-style performers\u2014fire juggling stoners in corduroy patch pants and pigtails\u2014one of whom accidentally set himself on fire. Also on the odd list was an aging hippie who brought in the new year with an electric sitar, singing about the coming end and how “all the children are insane,” shifting into an Armageddon-eerie version of Auld Lang Syne<\/i>. He later tried to ply me with pot and abruptly ended our conversation upon learning that I do not, in fact, play the cello.<\/p>\n It was the best New Years I’ve ever had.<\/p>\n