kdiddy.org

Dealing with snarky jungle DJs who have won records from the boyfriend on my eBay account. Fuck off and die. I peed on your records.

Longest walk ever + messy house + gimpy boyfriend + pile of neglected writing stuff + pyschotic toddler + local insane person (commonly known as I Love a Parade) heckling me and psychotic toddler no less than 3 times – money = Kelly Delaney about to shuffle off this mortal coil.

Make sure that I am laid out in pajama bottoms, tube socks, and my Lollapalooza '95 tshirt. NO BRA! In my casket I would like my stuffed bunny, my laptop, and my mp3 player. During the service, I would like the soundtrack to The Harder They Come played on repeat. I would also like my wake to be the biggest party ever.
Thanks.

In order to set up this scene in your head, it's important to know that last night the boyfriend and his boyfriends went to play some basketball. He sprained his ankle. Tonight, as part of his birthday present, we are going to the Red Hot Chili Peppers concert. His grandmother just called and offered up a suggestion.
Grandmother: “Kelly?”
Me: “Yeah?”
Grandmother: “It's just me.”
Me: “Okay.”
Grandmother: “I was just thinking that maybe he (the boyfriend) could take one of our walkers to the concert tonight.”

Me: “Uh, *snicker* okay, I'll ask him.”
The very thought of the boyfriend walking into a rock concert with a walker was too much for me. Various jokes can be derived from this, some of them being about how, since he's turning 24 on Thursday, he's just not as spry as he used to be, or just picturing someone with a walker in the standing-room-only section of the Mellon Arena trying to emulate Anthony Kiedis' fancy footwork. I nearly peed my pants.
Anyway, today's been pretty poop. Rain and general crappiness and an insane amount of mess in the kitchen. Of course, all of that is on top of my crazy baby and my invalid boyfriend.
Make note of my current music. I can't remember where the boyfriend found these, but they're pretty interesting to listen to. Yardies brighten up my day. I will send them to you if you're interested.
“Where's my shotgun?”

Ah, a few moments of peace and quiet while the baby naps, Mom is out at Home Depot, and the boyfriend and his boyfriends are watching TV.
Friday night, a few of the Technoir guys took me to dinner at Soba to thank me for The Article. I had never been there, but I'm definitely trying to go back some time soon. The place itself is totally swank and the food was amazing. I had a yummy salad to start, then one of the best entrees that I've ever had: sesame-seared rare tuna, jasmine rice with some yummy vinegar, and some pickled vegetables. The vegetables were a little spicy, but added an interesting taste. For dessert I had ginger creme brulee, which was out of this world, and some tasty coffee. We sat and talked for almost four hours, which was nice. We discussed everything under the sun: movies, books, love, marriage, children, men, women, music, politics, video games. It was just one of those really great conversations that you need to have at least once a month.
I finally came home around 1:30 to a cranky girlfriendboyfriend, who whined about being home alone with the baby while I stayed out to the wee hours with friends. I could only reply, “Sucks, doesn't it?” This is not to say that our baby is not the coolest person under 5, but after he goes to sleep things can get kind of…isolated.
Anyway, I was exhausted at that point and wanted nothing more than to brush my teeth, take my contacts out and collapse into bed. However, as I went to squirt the contact solution into the case, I came to the most irritating realization that the solution was all gone. I called my mother, who was out visiting her friend, Nora, and asked her to drive me to CVS when she got home. It was an irritating stop, mostly because at 2 a.m. the only people visiting the all-night pharmacy in Oakland are drunk Pitt students. After wading through a cluster of frat boys who were drooling over the selection of cheese-flavored snacks, I grabbed the contact solution, paid, and hightailed it out of there. Once the ocular situation was taken care of at home, I passed out.
Saturday, I got to sleep in a little bit, and spent most of the morning discussing plans for the day with my mom and boyfriend. My mom ended up taking a fruitless trip to Shadyside while the boyfriend and I went out to Brookline to visit his mom and grandmother. The boyfriend had some music stuff to work on and told me to bring my laptop. That way, we could both get work done while the baby played with his family. However, once we got there and the boyfriend had disappeared into his Synthesizer Cave, his mom and grandmother both told me about how tired they were. I could not, in good conscience, leave them with a rambunctious toddler, so I got nothing done and watched my son at their house instead of mine. They did buy us some tasty pizza, though, so that kind of made up for it.
Jwan called us while we were there and invited us over for an impromptu cookout. The boyfriend said that when his mom and grandmother left for church we would go over to Jwan's. A few hours later, when this scenario was supposed to be taking place, the girlfriend boyfriend suddenly became irritated. He was obviously just getting into something with his music stuff and I insisted that if he wanted to skip the cookout and work a little longer then it was fine with me. The frustration of not being able to get work done is a feeling that I know all too well. He kept sighing and saying in a singsong voice, “No, because then you'll be all bored and irritated.” I did not understand how we had made the transition to this whole thing being my fault. After all, I had my laptop, there was cable TV, a dog, a kitchen full of food, and my son to play with. No way was I going to be bored. I was thinking about this last night and realized something. Most of the boyfriend's friends have rather irritating, high-maintenance girlfriends. I think that, in an effort to feel more a part of the group, he projects these irritating qualities on to me. In reality, I am a rather easygoing gal and I think that am one of the most awesomest girlfriends that I know. I'm sure I have my moments of being a pain in the ass, but who doesn't?
In any case, we went to Jwan's and had some rather tasty chicken, red peppers and corn on the cob. Tastiness. A little mind-altering was had, and I spent a good chunk of the night staring at a house in the alley, convinced that it was a crack house. It very well may be, as Jwan doesn't live in the most savory section of Bloomfield. I also spouted some nonsense to one of Jwan's neighbors, who I'm sure now thinks of me as a total idiot. Damn.
We went home and put the baby to bed, and the boyfriend said that he was going out to Shawn's to play with his synthesizer's. This was around 11, and he insisted that he would be back in about an hour, since I was looking for a little romp in the boudoir. I know him too well, however, and was not surprised when he actually did come home around 4 a.m. He explained, “Well, there aren't any clocks in Shawn's studio.” I had tried to wait up for him, aided by The Decline of Western Civilization on IFC and some Jamie Foxx comedy special on HBO Comedy. I passed out, though, and while I had an overall decent night of sleep, I was plagued by nightmares. I dreamed that I was stuck by myself in the Deep South of the 20s, complete with lynchings and the Klan. The locals had, however, gotten wind of The Article and were none too pleased to read about my Yankee propaganda. I was then chased through a cornfield by a couple of rednecks in a Trans Am. I woke up sweating. I can only surmise that all of the hubbub over The Article the past few days had its way with my subconcious. Either that, or it's a sign that the members of pb-cle-raves are actually a bunch of racist pricks.
No matter.
Today has been lovely. The baby and I went on our usual walk up to Bloomfield. We had been deprived of doing so over the past couple of days due to Hurricane It'snotabell and our useless journey to Brookline. By the way, , I'm just going to show up on your doorstep one of these days. Just giving you a heads up.
I have to go figure out some kind of dinner.

Oh, my, I haven't done a proper update in days. The past few days have been quite busy, filled mostly with celebration over the success of The Article. Thursday night was Technoir's performance at Havana. I had much fun. I actually got dressed up for the occasion, make up and everything. The manager at Havana, Jason, declared that I would get complimentary drinks for the evening. It was very nice of him but, as you may or may not know, I am a lightweight. After my first complimentary drink I was already getting kind of goofy. Shawn bought me a Grey Goose martini (*passes out*), and while that was sitting there waiting for me to drink it a few people set their drinks down in front of me to watch for them. So, at one point I had five drinks in my possession. Not a flattering image. and and I spent a good hour or so talking shit. Krush Groove was playing on the TV behind the bar, but I managed to tear myself away long enough to enjoy the actual performance. Liz and I danced our bums off. I believe Adam Ratana took a picture of me attempting to imitate the dancers in the Sean Paul videos. I think I mostly succeeded at making a weird face. I also spent some time meandering through the crowd telling various folks about how much of a lightweight I was. Afterward, I stood outside trying to make a joke about what a disappointment the hurricane was. I was attempting to quote , who called it “Hurricane Isn'tbel,” but it kept coming out, “Yeah, this is Hurricane It'snotabell…you know, because it's, like, not, like, a big deal, so it's not, like, a bell…you know?” Dumbass.
This will have to be continued…my baby has a situation in his pants.

is this how it works?

I have every intention of responding to all of the great comments that everyone left for me yesterday. With the rain and everything today I've been very sluggish and arthritic and just generally lazy about everything.
Another thing I'm feeling lazy about is getting ready to go to dinner. Goddammit, why can't Soba just come here?

Anyway, I just wanted to give a general “You Guys Rule” so that you all would know that I was thinking of you. Seriously, my friends list is the most elite shit on the web. 😉

burp

…or something.
Yesterday was a flurry of activity and emotions. After the initial queasiness of seeing this “huge” article that everyone was talking about, I was quite happy and excited for several hours. But then the inevitable backlash occurred. The boyfriend posted a link to the article to the pb-cle-raves list. It's important to understand that the boyfriend has a somewhat legendary presence on that list. During his seven years on the list, he has been the instigator of numerous flame wars and an all-around unapologetic asshole to many. During my five years on the list, I've come and gone with nary a notice. I used to be very active on the list, but then it just sort of became boring. Once the boyfriend and I got together I made the ultimate transition from Kelly, an Individual, to just A Girlfriend. It's every girl's dream. Anyway, my comments on the list generally go unnoticed which I generally don't care about. However, my Girlfriend status really bothered me yesterday. Because of the boyfriend's reputation, the article was barely read by list members and provoked a small flame war. It was immediately poo-pooed as some sort of reverse racism and quite a few people had a laugh at the prospect of Pittsburgh-produced electronic music gaining any kind of respect from it. One girl even went so far as to call it “cheap.” I was quite crushed. Not so much because it received negative attention, but because the very group of people who I thought would appreciate it hated it. From a selfish point of view, I was also upset that my accomplishment, that I worked my ass of for, was barely acknowledged simply because a bunch of them dislike my boyfriend. I woke up at 5:30 in the morning realizing, as a woman, how much offense I should have taken at that. Even to some girls, I am nothing outside of my boyfriend's persona, and that fucking pisses me off. I poured my guts out in one, long post which you can read, if you want to. Man, I thought you guys would be excited about this! For *years* I've
been on this list and have read about and experienced how frustrating it
is trying to get past the bullshit tweaked out image that the media gave
raves and getting to the heart of the matter: the MUSIC. the PEOPLE.
That's what it's all about, right? So, instead of waiting for the
mainstream media to try to understand what we're about, I went to them
myself and got them to listen to what a bunch of “ravers” had to say.
Trust me, I would have done it sooner, but it just didn't work out that
way. I had to get my degree and do my internship and whatnot. I called
the PG and said, “Look, I know these guys who've started their own techno
label and are doing relatively well. They really deserve some
recognition. I'm a writer and I want to help them out.” That's how this
whole article got started. I really thought that everyone would be
saying, “Wow, techno got some mainstream respect and one of our *own*
people helped that happen.” DIY, motherfuckers. Instead you guys had to
get all ugly about it. Granted, it's kind of predictable for me to be
defensive about it since it's my article, but I still think there are a
few things that need to be cleared up.
There a couple of points that I want to address directly.
Trout: “i'm thinking everything is gonna be a race card with you tom…..?
WTF?”

Like Tom already cleared up, he did not write the article or the headline.
I wrote the article, the PG wrote the headline. He posted the link to
the pb-cle because he was on the computer before I was. I have to wonder
if it would have generated the same kind of reaction if I had just posted
it myself, or if one the Technoir guys had posted it.
Jea Leigh: “Of course the did. Slap the word Racism on the subject title
and throw it on the front page. I'm sure it will grab alot of attention.
Cheap.”
Ow. You have to understand the audience of this piece. The PG is not a
music publication. While the article is in the A&E section, the PG's
readership by and large isn't the most cultured of folks, certainly, at
least, not the type of people who would read a 1,500 word article about
the ins and outs of techno. If this piece were in XLR8R or URB or
Bassline it would be completely different. So, while the music was the
overall focus of the piece, the PG was more interested in the actual
people in Technoir and what is important to them. You may think it's
“cheap” that we talked about racism for a good portion of the interview,
but it's true. Pittsburgh is segregated. Simple fact. It's not
official, it's not enforced by law, but it's there. Perhaps what I should
have stressed in the article is that the Technoir guys, and I have to
agree with them, feel that this segregation is part of the reason that the
city has such a hard time keeping cultural things going: lack of mass
appeal and the numbers/money to keep them afloat. That's an issue that
the Technoir guys are passionate about and they think that it's a positive
move that an Asian guy, some black guys, and some white guys can work
together for techno because of its diverse roots.
As far as personal approaches to racism, I think an open dialogue about it
is healthier than just trying to ignore race altogether. Get all the ugly
stuff out, ask questions, make an effort. It might be a shame that racism
is still an issue in 2003, but it is. I don't know what else to tell you.
I will admit that I was a little surprised to see racism as part of the
headline, but I imagine PG readers need a little more to draw them in than
just techno. Perhaps that approach lacks some integrity, but it's still
effective.
Trout: “hey i said i thought it was great, just wondered how non-raver
types would read 700/800 records, i suspect they'll just think its
nothing.”

Eh, maybe. But Pittsburghers these days will be pretty proud of anything
that is “from Pittsburgh.” If anything they might be impressed that
people in Europe, etc., know that Pittsburgh exists and that some goofy
guys make techno there. It's all about trying to find an identity outside
of the sports/steel/failed dot com image.
Dave Clevr: “im pretty sure some redneck from New Castle and some
asshole brother from the Hill arent going to be
savoring some chamomile tea while discussing the
production of the new Ectomorph track.”
No. I don't think that was the goal though, either. All they're trying
to say and all that I'm trying to convey is that Pittsburgh needs to
change. Maybe we're forty years behind the civil rights movement, and
maybe we're way late in giving techno the props that it deserves but
that's no reason to just give up. Wouldn't you say those are two things
worth hanging on to?
(Asshole brother?)
“i think people wont give a fuck unless they know something about techno
in the first place.”

Maybe. But maybe 2 or 3 people who didn't know about it before will be
interested now. Maybe not. You can laugh at me and the Technoir guys for
having that kind of optimism. That's fine. A journey begins with a
single step and all that.
Anyway, like I said before, I doubt that the article would have caused
such a ruckus if Tom hadn't been the first person to post about it. Any
other misunderstandings about the motivation of the article can be chalked
up to me needing to strengthen my writing and communication skills. Dig?
For a bunch of people who at one point or another believed in PLUR, you
all have a strong tendency to look at something positive and pick it apart
until its curled up on the floor, naked, shivering, and bleeding from the
asshole. Chill out, for chrissakes. Take some epills. Something. ;-p
If nothing else, come out to Havana tomorrow night. We'll get our
non-racist orgy on to some techno.
Kelly
Anyway, we went out for a minute last night to see Adam Ratana spin at the Bloomfield Bridge Tavern (from now on, known as the BBT). A few snide remarks were made in the direction of me and the boyfriend and I couldn't help but let it get to me. I felt betrayed, really, is what it is, by people who I thought had at least a little bit of respect for me.
Well, I know all of this whining is nauseating. My insecurity and constant need for validation gets on my nerves, too. So, don't worry, it's not just you. ;-p I keep telling myself today that I need to get over this. I did receive so many heartfelt congratulations that it really does make my heart swell just to think about it. And, really, in the long run, the pb-cle list and a couple of wack jungle djs don't mean shit. I just don't know why they have to be such jackasses sometimes. Why'd they have to rain on my parade?
Wow, what stinks?

Well, as of this morning, things are a little better in the boudoir. 😉
We still have some stuff to work through, though. I know that. I'll be keeping everyone updated. (I'm sure you can't wait.)
Thanks everyone for your advice. I'll post more personal comments later when I have a little more time.