sharing the blame
Earlier in Friday evening, over beers with atalanta and mrzero I was talking about Jason and Alexis' wedding and this conversation I had with one of the guests, T, who was asking me if I was bride or groom. "Groom's, I suppose," I said to her, "Lived with him once, a few years ago, but I knew Alexis from before then, I think. Or maybe it was around the time that Jason moved in with us. Doesn't matter, really. I was friends with both of them when they were single, back when I knew of Alexis as Atalanta's friend who was still living in Philadelphia, and making the occasional trip up to Boston to hang out with her. Though, the occasional trips didn't last too long. Alexis met Jason at a brunch that I held at my old apartment, they started talking, and less than a year later, she moved up here."
"So you get the credit then," T. said as she sipped her wine.
"And," I said to atalanta later on, "I kind of thought, 'sure, but not really.'" The way our friends work, if one of them didn't show up at brunch, they would've ultimately met somewhere else -- one of the Piehaus parties or Michael's absinthe night or the clubs. Or perhaps those places aren't as conducive to making first impressions, and perhaps it was significant that they met at my apartment, lingering over plates of french toast and bowls of fruit, where they could take turns piquing each other's interests. Atalanta suggested that we could both share the credit, since, after all, she was the impetus for bringing Alexis to all of these events in the first place. I thought that sounded more than fair.
T. and I had gone on talking for a little longer "Where do you live? ... New York? Upper West side? ... I was just down there a couple of weeks ago while visiting my sister. Went to Lincoln Center to watch the Kirov Opera ... oh, you saw the Tchaikovsky piece?" Then the reception's event manager tapped me on the shoulder and said, "I've been told that you're the DJ for tonight."
"oh? I guess I am." In the previous evenings, Jason had talked about burning CDs for mood music during the reception and mentioned needing someone to change discs at appropriate intervals. That sounded perfectly fine to me, but somehow, I never made the mental connection that "needing someone to change discs" == "I'm asking you to DJ our wedding." But I finished my hors d'oeuvres anyway, asked for T.'s pardon and then went over to check on the equipment.
Power? Check.
Amp and Speakers? Check.
Crossfader channels setup? Check.
Headphones? Fuck.
The rig was arcanus's, he had dropped it off before the ceremony but wasn't sticking around for the reception, so I called him at home and asked, "Dude, I can't find your headphones."
"Oh, that's because they're in my car, which is in my driveway, at home."
I had just loaned my pair to mistresshellena the night before, so, alright, no headphones. Which is fine, if we're just talking about switching discs. Oh, what's this on the program about a dance?
The reception and dinner went along quite well. I sat with shnells and thelittlebeast and we all listened as the best man and maid of honor took turns giving inspired, epic toasts that were one part roast and two parts praise, alluding to the turbulent love lives of both bride and groom, how they'd both been through their fair share of dates and broken hearts, both theirs and others, and how it seemed apparent to everyone that when they met it would be The One.
My friend Sarah and I spent part of my Alabama visit swapping notes on our love lives since she left Boston, and at one point in the evening, she said that she had hoped that every one of her relationships taught her something, and that, in some ways, even the horrible, dysfunctional stuff would get you closer to finding your ideal, even if it taught you what not to look for. In that way, it seemed like the turbulent love lives were almost necessary. Even if they were terrible experiences that one had to live through, they would, in the end, make whatever ultimate union that you might find stronger because the struggle that preceded it bore the fruits of wisdom earned through grief and angst. And, of course, your friends will share in your relief and good fortune, because they'd seen you through the broken hearts and bitter disappointments and shared your dreams for peace, bliss and shared understanding.
I mentioned as much to T later on, as we watched the couple cutting the cake, and I pondered how I was going to build a setlist without headphones and only a vague idea of a song selection that was 50% vintage jazz. She said that it was great to see them so happy, and I said that it was indeed wonderful, if only because it seemed so unlikely before they met at brunch, and if such things can begin from small, chance encounters like that then there's never reason to lose hope.
I couldn't keep talking to her though, because the dancing started and I had to try to read a crowd that was half post graduate and half sixty-something. The younger crowd didn't really bite into anything that I played, and so when one of the older women came up and asked for something a little more "well-known and, you know, dancey" I revved back to Billie Holliday and "It Had To be You" and stuck to jazz for a bit, until the 'grown-ups' were drunk enough to have fun with New Order1 and Sarah Mclachlan. I kept that going until most people went home, and shnells and I packed the gear into her car. I stopped by the bridal suite on my way out, to bid the fair couple goodbye. Jason pulled me in for a warm hug and for the hundredth time that day, thanked me, and, as always, I replied, "my pleasure." And I meant it as much as when I said it the first time, if not more so on the hundredth and first.
1 -- minor highlight of the night was watching Alexis' sixty year old mom grooving along to "Bizarre Love Triangle" and having her turn to me in mid-shimmy and say, "this is kind of cool."
2 -- I also DJ'ed the post wedding party the next day, and was mildly entertained with all the couples dancing in the patio to Nick Cave's "The Ship Song." It really is the ultimate Goth prom song. There's a picture of me, somewhere on the web, dancing with Bridget in an empty theatre in the middle of Toronto, with "The Ship Song" on the speakers, a scant few other couples on the floor, and flashbulbs from other cameras going off. It's the sort of romantic thing that teen movies end with, except if you had miked us, you'd catch us saying, "are you leading or am I? ... you stepped on my toes again ... spin? no, I'm getting dizzy." that, my friends, is the sound of a couple in love. or at least, it probably wasn't that much different from Jason and Alexis' first wedding dance.
"So you get the credit then," T. said as she sipped her wine.
"And," I said to atalanta later on, "I kind of thought, 'sure, but not really.'" The way our friends work, if one of them didn't show up at brunch, they would've ultimately met somewhere else -- one of the Piehaus parties or Michael's absinthe night or the clubs. Or perhaps those places aren't as conducive to making first impressions, and perhaps it was significant that they met at my apartment, lingering over plates of french toast and bowls of fruit, where they could take turns piquing each other's interests. Atalanta suggested that we could both share the credit, since, after all, she was the impetus for bringing Alexis to all of these events in the first place. I thought that sounded more than fair.
T. and I had gone on talking for a little longer "Where do you live? ... New York? Upper West side? ... I was just down there a couple of weeks ago while visiting my sister. Went to Lincoln Center to watch the Kirov Opera ... oh, you saw the Tchaikovsky piece?" Then the reception's event manager tapped me on the shoulder and said, "I've been told that you're the DJ for tonight."
"oh? I guess I am." In the previous evenings, Jason had talked about burning CDs for mood music during the reception and mentioned needing someone to change discs at appropriate intervals. That sounded perfectly fine to me, but somehow, I never made the mental connection that "needing someone to change discs" == "I'm asking you to DJ our wedding." But I finished my hors d'oeuvres anyway, asked for T.'s pardon and then went over to check on the equipment.
Power? Check.
Amp and Speakers? Check.
Crossfader channels setup? Check.
Headphones? Fuck.
The rig was arcanus's, he had dropped it off before the ceremony but wasn't sticking around for the reception, so I called him at home and asked, "Dude, I can't find your headphones."
"Oh, that's because they're in my car, which is in my driveway, at home."
I had just loaned my pair to mistresshellena the night before, so, alright, no headphones. Which is fine, if we're just talking about switching discs. Oh, what's this on the program about a dance?
The reception and dinner went along quite well. I sat with shnells and thelittlebeast and we all listened as the best man and maid of honor took turns giving inspired, epic toasts that were one part roast and two parts praise, alluding to the turbulent love lives of both bride and groom, how they'd both been through their fair share of dates and broken hearts, both theirs and others, and how it seemed apparent to everyone that when they met it would be The One.
My friend Sarah and I spent part of my Alabama visit swapping notes on our love lives since she left Boston, and at one point in the evening, she said that she had hoped that every one of her relationships taught her something, and that, in some ways, even the horrible, dysfunctional stuff would get you closer to finding your ideal, even if it taught you what not to look for. In that way, it seemed like the turbulent love lives were almost necessary. Even if they were terrible experiences that one had to live through, they would, in the end, make whatever ultimate union that you might find stronger because the struggle that preceded it bore the fruits of wisdom earned through grief and angst. And, of course, your friends will share in your relief and good fortune, because they'd seen you through the broken hearts and bitter disappointments and shared your dreams for peace, bliss and shared understanding.
I mentioned as much to T later on, as we watched the couple cutting the cake, and I pondered how I was going to build a setlist without headphones and only a vague idea of a song selection that was 50% vintage jazz. She said that it was great to see them so happy, and I said that it was indeed wonderful, if only because it seemed so unlikely before they met at brunch, and if such things can begin from small, chance encounters like that then there's never reason to lose hope.
I couldn't keep talking to her though, because the dancing started and I had to try to read a crowd that was half post graduate and half sixty-something. The younger crowd didn't really bite into anything that I played, and so when one of the older women came up and asked for something a little more "well-known and, you know, dancey" I revved back to Billie Holliday and "It Had To be You" and stuck to jazz for a bit, until the 'grown-ups' were drunk enough to have fun with New Order1 and Sarah Mclachlan. I kept that going until most people went home, and shnells and I packed the gear into her car. I stopped by the bridal suite on my way out, to bid the fair couple goodbye. Jason pulled me in for a warm hug and for the hundredth time that day, thanked me, and, as always, I replied, "my pleasure." And I meant it as much as when I said it the first time, if not more so on the hundredth and first.
1 -- minor highlight of the night was watching Alexis' sixty year old mom grooving along to "Bizarre Love Triangle" and having her turn to me in mid-shimmy and say, "this is kind of cool."
2 -- I also DJ'ed the post wedding party the next day, and was mildly entertained with all the couples dancing in the patio to Nick Cave's "The Ship Song." It really is the ultimate Goth prom song. There's a picture of me, somewhere on the web, dancing with Bridget in an empty theatre in the middle of Toronto, with "The Ship Song" on the speakers, a scant few other couples on the floor, and flashbulbs from other cameras going off. It's the sort of romantic thing that teen movies end with, except if you had miked us, you'd catch us saying, "are you leading or am I? ... you stepped on my toes again ... spin? no, I'm getting dizzy." that, my friends, is the sound of a couple in love. or at least, it probably wasn't that much different from Jason and Alexis' first wedding dance.