#along with every other jewish and german player who had to deal with this shit

[omegaplus]

# 4,437

SEASONAL MIXTAPES.

I met Mercy in my second semester at community college. A short skinny Irish / Italian / German girl with long black curls, olive tone, a lilac scent, and a old-school Brooklyn accent. It was an already dicey situation to begin with. By month’s end, I had my own friends and other minor bit-player friends of hers join in to harass me and threaten to assault me. There were times when Mercy and her friends were openly shit-talking about me, in front of me, for me to see and then panicked to keep quiet when I walked towards them to get to class. But that wasn’t enough for her. We ended up having an astronomy class together a few semesters later. That was loads of fun; spending another four months feeling awkward and uneasy having a saboteur sitting in the same room as I. After class I sat in my seat while I saw her play that same game on me - this time to our professor. She had to let everyone she came in contact with know how much of a danger I was. Meanwhile, her sidecar friends still took shots and threw insults at me when when we crossed paths. I had those former close “friends” shake their heads and laugh at me and others who gave me hateful looks every chance they had. It’s my second semester in community college and already I’m dealing with heavy drama, and there was no shortage of it. Superficiality, change of face, carelessness, exclusion, and good ‘ol classic stuck-up uptight attitudes were the social highlights of a horrid three-and-a-half years of ‘higher’ education 13th Grade.

Not all moments during that era were a bust, however. My Brentwood-era friend Brandon had a string of relationships that went nowhere. The pale strawberry blonde with the pierced nipples. The goth girl with the coke dust on her black nightstand. The brunette at the mall who deliberately ignored me when Brandon and I came to see her. Those potentials only lasted mere months before they reached their expiration date. Being the good diplomat that I was for everyone whom never reciprocated, I had one person in mind who was mostly good to me during the Plainview era. She was Manzana, the cutest Italian-Jewish girl of short stature, shoulder-length black hair and big brown eyes. I was introduced to her and her other Jewish friend Theresa through an acquaintance of ours and we dated briefly. Manzana was the final hope when all my ties from Plainview started to crumble and she became the last surviving contact I had there. I haven’t seen her since the Halloween party where she gave me an unsolicited hug and had her feelings hurt by another nasty-mouthed girl that I also dated. (Don’t look at me. I had absolutely nothing to do with it.) So I called her and she was happy to hear from me. I told her I had someone for her and a few nights later we all got together with some other friends of hers. Oh, and this kid Lucas whom I previously met at the high-school spooktacular.

My last-ever night in Plainview would turn out exactly how I first visited there.

Brandon and Manzana were happy to see each other. Matt and I would catch up and trade notes on everyone we hung-out with at that party. There was another friend of Manzana’s, Mike, who sat cross-armed and kept to himself. Baseball cap, black shirt, tattoos and…Jnco jeans with a long chain to boot. He didn’t seem to laugh or crack a smile at any time we were there. But she wasn’t serving just sausages at her house. She also had three female friends over. Amanda was the one that caught my eye with her skinny frame, short black neck-length hair and glasses. One my mind and eyes tried to separate from the others. 

Couch cushions and pillows were being thrown around miraculously missing any furnishings of value. Popcorn shots were being flickered at each other. Screaming and laughing-out-loud as some of us were play-fighting for shits and giggles. Amanda and I were getting along great along with her other friends. Mike didn’t say a fucking word through any of it. Fun was below him. A few hours later the girls had to leave and said good-bye to us. Just like that our night shifted gears from 4th to 1st. Brandon and his new girlfriend Manzana were now making out in her living room under a poster-sized jigsaw puzzle of her two year-old self as Less Than Jake played in the background. Lucas and I shook our heads at each other because the scene playing out felt awkward. Was it because of Brandon and Manzana’s blatant disregard of our existence or because some shitty third-wave ska music was playing in the background? Who the fuck knows, really. We were the sad pathetic ones shoved off to the side while the newly-found couple had their shine and sparkle.

With all this ridiculousness going on, this idea came out of nowhere - one specific idea that would influence everything I do from that point and in writing, recording, and graphic design. I had a seven-year backlog of cassette dubs, radio recordings, and a small personal music library. Wouldn’t it a great idea to make a mixtape to easily remember all the people, places, events in my timeline? How can I connect those certain whiffs, sights, scenes, thoughts, emotions and experiences that all tie together? My gramma’ always ordered magazine subscriptions for me. One of them had quarterly issues where Winter issues came out in December. That always stuck a chord with me when the idea came to fruition. Right there I had the concept of organizing them on a seasonal basis.

At the end of that polarizing Spring, I compiled all the artists and songs I heavily listened to during the last three months (March, April, and May) and put them all on one two-hour tape; the longest duration I could find. That tumultuous semester at community college. The many bike rides to the bookstore, Centereach’s none Of The Above Records for punk and electronic runs and rummaging through Port Jefferson’s Music Den’s used bins for obscure electronics and experimental sounds. Meeting the would-be literary superstars at the campus newspaper. Tagging along with my male primadonna musician friends all throughout the local music scene. D.I.Y. tape demos. Processed sodium in sealed boxes and Asian snack mixes in plastic containers. And, of course, Friday night at Manzana’s house. See where I’m heading with this?

I’ve recorded many hours of radio on tons of cassettes. I made pause-unpause transfers from one tape to another. I also made many mixtape trades to friends state-to-state and even overseas before the advent of downloading. But nothing up until this point where I habitually made a mixtape for only myself designating a specific time-frame of events. And it didn’t have to be a linear order of those events or if the mixtape started in May, went back to March, and forward to April where it ends; or Sunday-Wednesday backwards. Just capture them. Any artist or song I discovered during that 90-day time frame - no matter if it was from the radio, my personal collection, given by friends, or on the overhead at work - the #1 rule was let the chips fall where they may. “As it happens, when it happens” became our motto.

The mixtapes snowballed into a regular thing that I had to do. Eventually, I made one of the summer of my senior year; the first time I met Manzana. It…was an interesting few hours with her to say the least? Not even ten minutes after meeting each other and Theresa at the Broadway Mall, the both of us started holding hands. We sat next to each other as she, Theresa, and I had lunch at the food court on the top level and next thing I know Manzana took my hand and placed it on her inner thigh. Wow. I didn’t expect to go that far that quick - and in public, too. I didn’t know what to think. Our Sunday date wasn’t a bust, I thought. I wasn’t equipped to deal with the slight curveballs she pitched at me. But, here’s another: their friend Shirley met the three of us there; a Dutch girl of my height and dark blonde hair. We all spoke with her for a good five minutes before we all split and went on our way. Then came the good news: my friend told me that Shirley was super interested in me and she’d set us up the next time I came to visit. Well, two weeks later, both Shirley and I met at a friend’s graduation party in Bethpage. In less than ten minutes we walked to the fields and made out. Amazing.

Shortly after seeing Manzana for the last time, I realized she was up to her old magic tricks again. She never invited me to her cakeday parties, claimed to have never received my holiday cards (that was a flat-out bold-faced fucking lie), and never did that favor of setting me up with Amanda. That one’s on me for not having the bravery to ask her for her number the first time around. But somehow I made her cry when she called and asked me about Brandon. He was done with her. She was heartbroken to hear that he moved on and found herself sobbing like a trembling wreck. Truth hurts, doesn’t it? That was a final parting shot to cap off throwing money away at a sunk cost in a losing game. By coincidence, I met Lucas once again a few years later when I had a new circle of neighborhood friends. he thought it was a good idea to hang out with his drama queen ex- and that was a bonafide disaster. But he had updates for me: Manzana slept with the store manager and got a promotion - then was fired for Lord knows what. Not a good look for her when everyone who knew her just learned that she lost her V-card with her 21 year-old neighbor - when she was only 14. Christ Almighty…

Since last seeing her, the concept of personal mixtapes never stopped. I just completed a mammoth undertaking in digitizing my entire personal cassette library. From most of the Nineties all the way to the end of the Oughts I spent thousands of hours making them. When the Tens began, I purchased a Gateway laptop and my days of playing with tape media were over. My seasonal mixtapes now migrated onto burned CD’s. I did that for a while until a little after Omega WUSB and Ω+ started. Now, no need to. The “mixtapes” are simply playlists now and are posted in a timely manner. I’m always saving and consolidating time as more tasks for projects need to be done.

The seasons still have a hand in everything I do. Take this (Ω+) for example. There’s an entire link dedicated to them. They’re the basis in which this page you’re reading now survives by, and to this day we still post them. Go down the list and you can literally see my personal evolution of what genres, artists, and songs I’ve discovered and when. From golden-era hip-hop, alternative, industrial, electronics, experimental sounds, noise, indie, hipster, jazz, fusion, vinyl treasures, synthpop, chillwave, synthwave, shoegaze, noise rock, d-beat, punk, African tapes and beyond. We post our Omega WUSB broadcasts and even go as far as creating annual best-of’s and finds of the year. The personal journey which I walk on is one you wouldn’t even believe.

I’ve received some very valuable words from certain readers who say that the best thing about Ω+ is the precise insight and personal introspective of a specific time in my life. A few are amazed as to how I could bring up certain details, motifs, and progenies about a time or soul that no longer exists. I been there and seen it. I would know. Of course, there’s a downside when playing fair (“as it happens, when it happens”) and that is bad events do happen. It’s inherit in everyone’s life and no one’s immune. I, or anyone, could be accused of hanging onto the past and investing or throwing away time thinking about people that aren’t worth it simply by writing about them. But, we do it to prove a point: to show progression in our lives, to relate and connect with people, etcetera. Either way, good or bad, if I did my job then congratulations to me.

[cakerollk]

i am a jewish player of food fantasy and had a huge falling out w a group wrt bfc and her being a huge nazi expy and what with the new information that elex just straight up deleted her from the game, im stuck here laughing my ass off. if she wasn't based on the third reich, they shouldn't have any worries, but they took her out anyways. guess it looks like my disgust of her was absolutely warranted and the people who told me that it wasn't like that need to grow the fuck up.

and that’s how the cookie crumbles babeyyyyyyyyyyy