Let me explain...

Guest Blogger: DJ Auto-Wah (no he's not Canadian)

1:16 am. Jan. night. cold.

pile into my old volvo dressed in dark layers with two crackleboxes and a plexiglass mounted amp (all looking like they were designed by some sort of goth klingon Steve Jobs) and a generous helping of the mexican medicine.

pulled into Valentino Pier, surrounded by dark warehouses, and set up on some old pilings facing the statue of liberty. The lights of Jersey and the islands and the queen of freedom herself are to be our score. a duet, each of us reading the horizon from either end, to converge in the middle in screaming brilliance in the biting air.

police van rolls by. don't worry. they aren't interested in us. rolls up behind us. don't worry, focus on the piece. spotlights. three officers with weapons drawn. hand in the air, crackleboxes dangling from their cords and emitting the shrill siren of electronic abandonment. facing away from the water and towards the sharp light of the van.

agent kwan puts his gun away first and smiles and tells us to put our hands down. i'll put my hands down when your friends put their guns away. still the crackleboxes are screaming, keeping the tension high. okay. okay. hands down slowly. second officer holsters his gun. third officer working class staten island. not amused. what the fuck is that?! what are you doing?! we silence the machines. everyone breathes. the sudden cessation of noise a relief to everyone.

it's music i venture. do you guys like music? agent kwan smiles to himself. c'mon, i say. frank sinatra? looking at the suspicious staten islander. we'll play and you sing. start spreadin' the news...awkward silence, punctuated by a few tentative bleeps from the machines...i'm leaving today...bloop, bleep, screech...they turn and pile back into the van. the piece is over.