'Twas the Night Before Xmas...for CLUBBERS

[djmikedr]

'TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE XMAS and all through the club,

Not a dance track was swirling, not even a dub;

The DJs were laying their slipmats with care,

In hopes the latest imports soon would be there;

The chillun' were restless, all frutting with glee,

With visions of open bars, drink tickets and ki-ki;

And Kevin Aviance in stilettos, and Mother with her fan,

Had just settled down with a vodka-and-cran.

When out on the dance floor there arose such a clatter,

I sprang from the lounge to see what was the matter.

Up to the DJ booth I stormed like a bitch,

Twisted the crossfader and readjusted the pitch.

Liz Liguori was flashing her lights on the crowd,

Illuminating the Red Bull cans covering the ground;

When, what to my wondering ears should sound,

But the boom of house music, and cheers all around;

With a DJ in the booth shouting, "Do what I sez!"

I knew in a moment it must be Junior Vasquez.

More rapid than techno his fellows they came,

And he grimaced, and shouted, and called them by name.

"Now Danny! Now Victor! Now Peter and Frankie!

On Tony, Chad, Steve, Miss Carroll and Manny!

To the rise of the sun and bartenders' last call!

Now give it to them! Spin it for them! Turn them out all!"

Like Mitch Amtr@k's dear strobelights,

and with just as much flash,

Off to their parties and dance floors they dashed;

To Crobar and Spirit and Roxy they flew,

On to Avalon, Splash, Stonewall and Plaid nightclubs, too.

And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the speakers,

Drums thumping and pumping, hi-hats on the tweeters--

As I sipped on my beer, the queens begging for more,

In the line of my sight came Amanda Lepore;

She was dressed in her best and struck such a pose,

Security was baffled she got in with no clothes!

Mizz Junya, meanwhile, was workin' it fierce

As we gagged to his remix of the new Britney Spears;

Up high in the booth, he danced and made merry,

His spotlight shining down on some go-go boy fairy!

His gruff little frown then turned up in a grin,

And he winked as we trembled wond'ring what he would spin.

Then with a twist of his arm, and a slickness so quick,

He unleashed on the turntables--rippin' it sick!

The dance floor shook hard to that booming house medley,

To Beyonce, Vivian Green

and--of course--Heather Headley.

He was turning us out, without drama or shade,

And I smiled when I saw him, in spite of my jade;

A twirl of the bass knob and a push of the wax,

Soon gave me to know it was time to relax;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his werk,

Mixing a capellas, tribal, and that new track from Murk.

Then donning his cap and Abercrombie coat,

He played "Last Dance"--Donna Summer's old rote.

He packed away his records and switched off the decks,

And away he fast flew with a swiftness breakneck.

But I heard him exclaim, ere he escaped from my sight:

"Merry Christmas to all! And House Music all night!"

Written by Gregory T. Angelo in

the Dec 17 2004 issue of Next magazine

[rudeboyyouth]

Wuddup Mikey.

How have things been going? I need to hit you up soon.

If I don't talk to you soon, enjoy your Christmas & New Years, and be safe.