The Oracle of Apollo
Snippets from the life of Apollo Lee

Chris Orr and Travis spin some deep house and garage sounds at Staple. I showed up at about 10:30, stretching out in the back room and warming up by the time Kai and his fiancée, Marina. As soon as I turned around, a group of people beating on the congas appeared, as if by magic. I took a solo on my hands and was cheered and accosted by the owner of the congas, a guy named Mike from Coeur D’alene (a Ph.D. holder from uidaho). We chatted about this and that and apparently he has a band and he’s looking for more people, particularly harmonica-playing diva-sounding guys who can dance like crazy. Cool.

Saw Dana and her sister (can never remember sister’s name, but sister doesn’t speak with me anyway), and ended up talking to Lisa, who tends to run from me when she sees me. I guess she’d had enough to drink that she actually wanted to talk to me. Interesting. Unfortunately, for her, I didn’t know where the afterhours party was. Color me party-pooper.

A great, sweaty night of great music. Kai actually stayed out past midnight. But, pretty soon, it was time for him and his lovely woman to go back across the bay. Kai, let’s do Staple again soon, just like old times.

I no longer possess an Idaho driver’s license. I surrendered it today at DMV, having received my shiny new birth certificate from Texas. California DMV apparently mails the driver’s license in a couple of weeks. How strange. I guess it’s easy to hand out driver’s licenses (which basically look like laminated student identification cards) in Idaho on sight. So, now i get to try to get into clubs with a piece of laser-printed paper that says, “Really, this guy’s twenty-one. We swear.” Whee.

Got up somewhat earlier than I usually do, watched a couple of movies, and procrastinated doing anything useful. Finally, I headed out the door for San Franncisco about 6pm. Everything seemed to be running late for some reason.

I got to Patrick’s place at 7:30. He lives in the vicinity of Lombard and Van Ness in San Francisco. The evil part wasn’t getting to the city. It was getting around in the city. I was within San Francisco by 6:45. It took an additional 45 minutes to get off the 101 North and onto Van Ness. There must have been a ballgame, or something, because traffic was clogged up pretty much from the Cesar Chavez exit, halfway across town.

Eventually, I found a place to park and went to hang with Patrick and Gigi. We had boiled potatoes and a very good salad and some weird Swiss cheese and talked about Linux and Napster and all kinds of geek stuff. It was a hoot.

Of course, eventually, it was time to head down for Mateo & Matos at staple. Inhuman, Staple resident, was on the decks when we arrived, around 10:20, spinning a grooveable deep house set. Around midnight, Mateo & Matos took the decks, laying down the most incredible set of extraordinarily soul- and disco-tinged deep dark funky house that I have heard in a long time. The music didn’t even let up to let me catch my breath. It was relentless, driving me to get down such that my shirt was literally dripping by the end of the night.

Everyone showed up tonight, too, including Sally, Dana and her incredibly cute friend (Sylvia), Annie (along with Leika and Mina), and some other recognizable regulars. Sally ended up hanging out with this group of foreign girls, whom she tried to hook me up with. The German brunette was pretty, and the amazonian Columbian girl was incredibly scrumptious. I ended up giving lessons to a blonde girl from Mexico and bidding a fond farewell to all at the end of a very sweaty and deliriously beautiful experience at Staple, yet again.

No matter where you live, go see Mateo & Matos if they appear on a marquee in your area. Period. Don’t miss these guys—they’ll blow your mind.

After a three week absence, I decided to head for Into the Sound. Steve Loria was the featured headliner. They were charging ten bucks to get in, which I paid. The opening DJs got everything warmed up and there was a much larger crowd than usual.

Then, out of the blue, there was Annie, Mina, Leika, Patrick and Gigi, and Sally. Everyone was there. It was such an interesting night. There were so many spectacular people to dance with and such a wonderful vibe that I really didn’t want it to end. Patrick invited me to his place for tomorrow afternoon to have chow with him and Gigi and catch Mateo & Matos make their San Francisco debut at Staple. Should be fun.

Headed up to the city for Staple. Clé (of Dallas) opened with a solid set, very funky and danceable. Found Dana and her friend, whose name I can’t remember, and started the stepping in earnest. Pretty soon, Mike Clark (of Detroit) took the decks and started tearing it up, a beautiful mix of incredibly vocal house. The floor got pretty sticky toward the end, but some enterprising regulars, whom I don’t know yet, crumbled a teeny little bit of chalk on the floor. Ah…sliding bliss! Can’t wait for next week.

Checking my account balance, I discovered that I’m not in a negative cash position for once. This is sweet. So, I jerked some money down through the ATM and headed for Staple. Inhuman greeted me at the door.

Mad Marj (Oops…I thought it was Fabulizz. Thanks for the correction, Liz. –October 8, 2000) was on the decks when I arrived, summoning forth a very sweet mix of great house music. I got on the dancefloor early and started in. Joshua was on next, tearing up the decks with a crazily frantic set of deep house that left me breathless enough to repair upstairs for fresh air.

After an interesting conversation with some girls up from Los Angeles (Mayanne and Ria, as I recall), I headed back downstairs shortly before Iz took over. Iz was a madman—his music gourmet, his style four-star. I danced so hard that my shirt was completely soaked through and dripping when I was leaving.

Saw Sally there and some other regulars. What a night. I think I’ll still be limping on wednesday. And, goddamit, I gotta find out where some of these Staple DJs sell their vinyl/CDs. Any hints?

So, I was on my way home to get changed and head to the city for another night of shaking my ass at Into the Sound, when I spotted Gareth, Jennifer, Matt, and Scott approaching the corner of Villa and Castro. In Mountain View. I didn’t think they ever ventured any further south than the office, which is seventeen miles to the north. I honked once, and circled the block.

“You’re coming to John’s birthday bash, right?” Jen pleaded.

“I was planning on going to the city. What are you guys doing in Mountain View?”

“John’s party’s at Lime Light. Come on. Get changed and come down here and dance with us.”

Normally, I’m very private and I prefer not to hang out with co-workers where possible, but John kicks ass and he’s a wageslave just like me and I figured it would be fun seeing the marketing people get drunk and do a little dance, so I went.

The music was a standard top 40 dance fare (they even mixed C+C Music Factory into the music). It wasn’t what I generally prefer to get down to, but since I paid ten bucks to get in (which is criminal for a club to charge when a top 40 DJ is spinning, in my opinion), I was determined to make the most of my time there. My co-workers were surprised that I can dance my ass off and even more surprised to learn that I can sing (I have a tendency to sing my ass off while I’m dancing). “How come you don’t do that at our 2:00 Thursday one-song chair dances?” someone asked. “because I don’t mix business and pleasure,” I retorted.

The birthday boy, John, got really toasted early and ended up leaving early. But, damn, he had some fine ladies at the party.

I gotta drag him out to Staple, though, so he can get a taste of some San Francisco house.

Happy twenty-fifth, John.

On this day in 1990, I was discharged from the army. Time flies so quickly when you’re young. I couldn’t help but reflect during the long drive home to california, about all the people I’ve left behind on the long road that is life. I thought about all of my classmates that I actually liked and wondered what became of them—what happened to all the people I served with in the army, the group I hung out with at TVCC, the incredible friends I had after my divorce. If you are in one of those groups, tell me what you’re up to.

Emmett and I headed out of my grandmother’s place at seven Mountain Time and struck out to the southeast toward a little town called Emmett. we shot some pictures of him posing in front of the high school, and got a couple of shots of “Entering Emmett” and a sign that points the direction to Emmett from Payette.

The trip was only an hour each way off the beaten path. I took over driving in Marsing (to get the privilege to be the one who drove us out of Idaho) until Winnemucca. I was so anxious to leave Idaho in the rearview mirror. As we headed south on US95, I noticed that bowling pin just north of the time zone line out in the desert. I wonder what it is. I have a few pictures of it.

Emmett drove us from Winnemucca (”For rent: 2bdrm, 1 bath, spacious. $200/month, $200/deposit.” I would give body organs to have rent like that in the Silicon Valley) to Sparks (that casino restaurant’s vegetarian chop suey sucked ass). I took over and shortly shot my last picture (of seven rolls)—the “Welcome to California” sign. I have a little fetish for highway signs, state boundaries, and the like. Some time later, we arrived in Mountain View (about nine), and unloaded the car. Home sweet home.

Happy 224th birthday, America.

Emmett and I loaded up his car with my musical instruments, books, and movies. I tried not to go overboard on shit. One of these days, I’m going to have to have everything shipped out from Idaho to California, so I can have whatever I own, whenever I want.

We messed around with the Playstation and basically hung out today. Before taking them home just after dusk, we lit off the fireworks. I think I shot two rolls of film just for the fireworks. I may someday make a web album, or something. We started shooting them off shortly before dark, and then took the kids home. It’s so hard to tell my babies goodbye. I’m planning on coming back for a few days in September.

There really is nothing to eat at all in the western Treasure Valley. Nothing. Sizzler is the best restaurant in the area. It is quite sad.

We headed over to the “World’s Largest Pawn Shop” (aka, the world’s largest rip-off shop) to get a replacement Playstation. Skullmonkeys was the big hit. My son loved it a year ago, he still loves it. It rocks.

I had to take him home at seven, so he could man the cotton candy booth at the Vale rodeo. Ex-wife brought him back at ten thirty, so he could spend the last full day with me. I’m getting antsy to get some real food. And Idaho is starting to get on my nerves.

My children came over at 10 o’clock, despite my ex-wife telling me they’d be coming over after church, whatever time that ends. She brought her husband with, dropped the kids off and departed. I took my kids out to pizza in downtown Payette, and played with them in the playground of the school across the street. My son is quite a budding soccer player. My daughter is an incredibly energetic ball of fire who really bounces off the walls when you give her anything with sugar or caffeine. Fun fun fun.

I bet you didn’t know that they sold fireworks at Walmart. They do. I bought shoes and fireworks and other fun stuff. Yihee.

Day one of a long, long drive in Emmett’s volvo. We started out about seven in the morning from my place in Mountain View, tossing a duffel bag each into the car and heading out on the 880 north.

We reached the Sacramento metro area about ten, in time to meet up with Emmett’s niece, Kelly, in Loomis, California, for breakfast at the local greasy-spoon diner. It wasn’t bad. She’s a precocious 17-year-old girl, getting ready to start her senior year in high school, with alot of promise. It was cool to meet her.

We headed back out onto the freeway, eastbound, climbing the Sierra foothills toward Reno. An unexpected surprise was lunch in Sparks. We stopped at Western Village off the freeway and had some lunch at the casino’s restaurant. Normally, I view casino eateries with a very healthy amount of skepticism. This one wasn’t too bad. Emmett liked his grub much better than I like mine, but it was quite edible.

The desert is incredibly empty between Reno and Winnemucca, the emptiness broken up by truck stop casinos and “PRISON AREA. HITCHHIKING PROHIBITED.” signs. After Winnemucca, 270 miles of empty desert. The sunset in the desert was nothing short of spectacular, especially in the empty sagebrush landscape of the high desert of Eastern Oregon. It’s really nice every once in a while to go to a place where you can look at the horizon, miles distant, and know that more people live in your apartment complex at home than live within your eyeshot out in the desert.

We arrived in Payette, Idaho, at midnight, some 14 hours after we left (Southern Idaho is in Mountain Time), talked to my grandmother for a bit, and crashed.