The Oracle of Apollo
Snippets from the life of Apollo Lee

Something was in my eye. I keep dragging something opaque across the pupil with my eyelid, obscuring much of the left eye’s field of vision. No way in hell I was driving one-eyed in the dark to San Francisco tonight. So, I opted to do something that I haven’t done in recent memory. I stayed home.

I watched a movie with Steve, my roommate. Then, I decided to go for coffee at Lyon’s and returned to continue reading a programming book. When I woke up this morning, my eye was stuck shut, so it’s probably better to relax and not push my luck anyway. The peeper is still bugging the shit out of me, though.

Out to the Rawhide, to discover that StopSpot is gone for good. Opening night for Into the Sound, featuring guest Markie. The music was good for a crew’s opening night. The second room was open, but the pool tables were still set up. The illumination of the pool lights took something from the ambience of the dancefloor, which annoyed me a little.

After a while, I ended up in the one spot of floor that absolutely everybody didn’t have to walk through, and started tearing up the floor and the air around, singing alot (as always) to whatever was playing. Apparently, the British girls (Alison and another girl whose name eludes me) were immensely entertained. As were Erica and her crew, who kept finding me. I had a good time, at the very least.

I spun around and belted myself in the eye somehow, though. I’m blurry in my left eye. Must have an eyelash in it or something. Soaked myself through. Can’t wait for Staple.

Dentistry day again. Teeth 2, 3, 4, 29, 30, and 31. Bad decay (too much soda). The big worry: necessity of root canals ($980/each). They are, for now, not necessary. Crowns on three teeth instead ($750/each). So, they made temporary crowns to last until I earn enough money to afford them to finish the job.

I need to figure out something regarding:

1. getting real dental insurance
2. getting a job with a real salary, or
3. getting some real contract work

That way I can get my teeth fixed without putting off buying license plates for my car. Not even payday is looking unlean. In fact, the forseeable future is looking tighter than tight. Advice?

Abacus was on the decks at Staple tonight, having come all the way from Toronto to spin some music for us. A little sore from last night, I girded up my loins and readied myself to take the dancefloor without feeling too much like an old man. Patrick, Geneva, Chris, and Caleb were there. Sally said she was coming, but she didn’t show. The preliminary DJs were cool, enabling me to warm up well. Abacus took the DJ table and started spinning some very jazzy music, tunes that would be great in the car.

He segued his music into something a little more danceable. I was wandering along, trying to find a nice open spot in the dancefloor that hadn’t become sticky yet, to find Ian in the middle of the floor. Danced alot. Another Saturday. I dunno what next weekend will hold, though. Kimball Collins is apparently at 1015 on Friday night.

So, should I tolerate the candyravers for an hour or two of Kimball? Or just buy a couple extra CDs?

Went again to Rawhide, as usual. A new crew, called Baraca, or something, has temporarily taken over the Rawhide, pending the return of StopSpot. The DJs headed from vocal house straight into trance territory. It was a hoot.

Oh, April isn’t gonna be pretty. I owe the government a few hundred dollars. Egad. I’ve never earned enough to have to pay Uncle Sam before. I like the state of california, though. They’re giving me some dollars to replace the ones the feds are nipping. Gotta love tax day. April is looking to be pretty lean. Wish me luck.

Treated myself to Ethiopian food in San José and a new book. Messed around on IRC until it was time to go to the city.

Another saturday, another Staple, of course. I arrived on the scene shortly after 9:15, choosing an extraordinarily convenient parking space almost directly across the street from the club entrance. At 10:45, there was still almost noone on the dancefloor.

Sally showed up, having called me in Mountain View before I left my house. She showed up and started dancing around a bit. I went upstairs after a while to get some air on the outdoor deck, when I spotted Patrick and Geneva, who were hanging with an incredibly mind-smashing woman named Christina, whom I had seen at the bar ordering a martini, or something.

Eventually, we all ended up on the dancefloor, where I performed my usual barrage of special effects, moves, and voices. It was a hoot. Mark Ambrose took the decks shortly before midnight and blew all of our minds. I ended up (somehow) in the middle of a dance contest, as always, and, as usual, danced a bit too hard, and turned my ankle a bit too much on sticky dancefloors. I’m sure I’ll be sore for a couple of days.

But, damn, if Christina isn’t beautiful. I departed, greeting everyone, particularly her and Geneva (What it is about Canadian women that drives me insane, I have no idea) and headed to Denny’s, limping all the way to my car. I’m quite certain that I’ll still be sore on Wednesday.

StopSpot got displaced tonight. Another crew (”Baraca”?) was playing at the old Rawhide. The DJ was set up at the end of the first room, which was a very refreshing change (usually the DJ is in the middle — on the long side of the dance area).

I started talking to this guy I’ve seen there several times before, but never talked to. Just another bloke, hanging out and waiting for more people to show up. Patrick is a really cool guy from Canada, whose wife Geneva was dressed in a baby blue faux fur coat. She was excruciatingly cute and they both bore that Mentos-ad-like Canadian ambience. They rocked.

The DJ started spinning some deep house, which modulated into trance after some time. I was having a good time, handfluting sometimes, singing sometimes, and just cutting the rug the rest of the time. Sylvia (was that her name?), dancing by herself in the corner, distracted my attention. She was just cute and kept smiling at me and swaying in my rhythm.

By 2, the Canadians were asking about other places to dance into the larger hours of the morning, but I was ready for a quick bite at Lyon’s and my new bed.

My bed arrived today. 9:15 in the morning, the phone rang, and I woke up on the floor for the last time. It is beautiful, so beautiful. I have never before owned a full-size box spring and mattress set before. It is untarnished in its perfection—spectacular in its newness. I can hardly wait for tonight.

What a winning day. Got a call at 7 am. “Hi, we need to set up a delivery time for your bed between 12:30 and 2:30.” “I told the sales guy late afternoon.” “Sorry. Can you do it at 12:30 to 2:30?” “No. I have a job. Hello.”

Fucking geniuses. I made the salesguy write in big bold letters—like this: late afternoon delivery. I told the guy on the phone that we could possibly squeeze in early morning, making me late for work, but not too late, on Wednesday morning. We’ll see. Until then, a couple more nights on the floor won’t kill me.

The dentist—ah, the dentist. Apparently, I was scheduled for a cleaning, which is okay, but I had to pay $120 out of pocket for cleaning half of my teeth. My next visit, to put fillings in my right side molars, is going to cost me six hundred out of pocket (in addition to exhausting my plan’s cap in just two visits), if I don’t require root canal, which costs nine hundred a pop, out of pocket. I’m really glad my dental insurance is generous enough to pay eighty percent of cleanings and half of fillings. That’s not insurance, that’s a fucking discount.

I decided I was tired of sleeping on the floor and I finally got around to going bed shopping. I went to several places before deciding on a full-size box-spring set that wasn’t too expensive. Unfortunately, the only time the company wants to deliver it is in the middle of the workday during the week. After much bantering, I got word to the dealer that I needed it delivered monday afternoon.

Stopped at Mervyn’s and bought some new club clothes. Then, I ate a nice Indian dinner, stretched out, and readied myself for tonight for the trek northward to Staple. On the marquee: Sasse from Germany/Finland.

The crowd was light, but not too light. It was just the right combination of population and dancefloor space. I danced myself into oblivion. I’m certain I’ll feel tonight until Tuesday, at the very least.

Big surprise, though. My new polyester shirt didn’t take on any sweat. My T-shirt got soaked through, but the polyester was dry when I changed in the car. Interesting…

I was kinda looking around on SF Raves for other stuff, but I saw Mark Farina billed on StopSpot’s flier, along with David Coleman & Sen-Sei. So, I grabbed Emmett, whose girlfriend, Megan, was due to make an appearance, and headed out to the spot.

David Coleman & Sen-Sei started their set shortly after we arrived at 10. sen-sei, the keyboardist, was going off, and after a while I went up to challenge him. I started blowing his solos through my hands (Kinda like whistling. You’d have to see it to understand) and it attracted a bunch of people near me (I’m always in tune and I can improvise). They were cheering their asses off as I echoed his keyboard solos back at him and threw him a few of my own.

Mark Farina took the DJ table and the roof came off. Annie showed up and told me she was going to Fiji for two months (have fun). I ended up dancing with way too many interesting, weird, and delicious people, finally introducing myself to Lisa and Laura, whom I see everywhere on the weekends (Rawhide, Club 6, 11:11), and Mina and her cute Indian friend. They even opened up the second area at Rawhide tonight - not at a quarter till two, but at 11:30. What a trip. I guess with Farina headlining…

I can’t even wait for tomorrow night.

As usual, I went to Staple and had a blast. Unfortunately, I went a little too hard last night and wore those same flat shoes, so I was a bit sore, especially given that I’ve been walking about five miles a day (from the Caltrain to the cubicle is just shy of 2.5 miles) to work, in the hopes that I’ll not be a fat fuck anymore. I need to join a gym or call an infomercial and get one of those machines.

Staple rocked, particularly when Tasho started spinning. I danced for a while with a group of interesting people, then in the middle of a circle of admirers (during one of my short-lived bursts of energy), then among a bunch of fuckers who kept asking me where they could get E. If you have to ask, you don’t need to know. Am I wrong? I didn’t think so.

My car is beautifully clean now for the first time since I bought it. I basically yanked everything I wanted to keep out of the car and told the car wash people, “Whatever.” Now, it’s shiny, has been Armor-Alled, and has seats that can accomodate passengers without moving stuff around.

Overall, a nice day, full of buying computer pieces, getting my car worked on, and dancing the night away.