Fire in the Disco

In 2002, it was typical to find me DJing at Les Deux on Mondays, at Nacional on Tuesdays and Saturdays, at the Downtown Standard on Wednesdays and Sundays, at North on Thursdays, at 217 on Fridays.

This was shortly after I had returned to LA at my father’s request, as he was relocating to New Zealand for the production of The Lord of the Rings trilogy. I lived in his Pacific Palisades home with the following conditions:

1. Handle the bills.
2. Feed the dog.
3. Don’t burn the house down.

Well, two out of three ain’t bad.

In fall of that year, I had arrived home from Les Deux at about 4am. Come 6am, my brother Evan alerted me that “The house was on fire.” Indeed it was. The ceiling was an inferno, and visibility was zero with black smoke.

The LAFD did their thing, I sent all the independent-adjusting vultures away, and we ordered Mort’s Palisades Deli.

Then I took a self-portrait with my Polaroid:


And I went to work that night, smelling of soot.

The year-long couch tour then began, which resulted in a nervous breakdown in 2003.

This song strikes a chord: DANGER! HIGH VOLTAGE – Electric Six

Big up to Mort Farberow. Cheeseburgers can’t be touched. Palisades Pantry is nicht gut.

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