following is from maybe 1995? as once featured on word.com:

Spacing out is usually something I do with a cat and an afternoon; it's just not something I would have thought would be an enjoyable communal activity, but I've fallen into it pretty heavily since I Found Out. Ambient music involves a convergence of a lot of abilities and sensibilities that I've had for a while, but hadn't really thought to put together in that way: abstract painting, esoteric massage and healing, trances and dreaming, synaesthesia, as well as that nagging little hope that I can somehow do something to help others get a little higher. It's also really great to just dupe tapes of my sets and give them to my friends; for a buck or so and a spare pocket I can treat a friend or stranger to hours of daze, something you can't do with paintings or massage. I hope more people can hear the really good stuff, because spending time in the undifferentiated states these sounds provoke can be a healing and transformative experience; ego attachments and anger don't have a lot of grip on your perceptions there, which just maybe opens the window for a little evolution, which is generally indicated.

I can’t remember what music was like before techno, before I got tweaked at the old Sound Factory to druggie house, before I heard killer dark ambient, before I heard DJ Olive and DJ Spooky wreckin vinyl. I started DJing about a year ago, and have only gotten more into it. At first I played only beatless ambient, but now play kind of everything, from hard techno and jungle to deep dub and experimental ambient, mixed with practically anything if it’ll make it weirder. I kind of live to hard-freak a room, which is fine when I’m doing it, and a bit buggy when I’m not: vinyl addiction isn’t pretty.The best parties I’ve played were called Cloudwatch (RIP), in Baltimore, and please can there be a lot more like this? People on blankets and pillows, they bring toys and slippers, hardly anybody standing, tripping their little medullas peacefully off, loud-ass freaky sounds until sunrise, brainpan harem. They always strike me as a fine example of civilization at its best, comfy bodies draped adrift reveries, incidental universes dancing invisible minuets down the nests of smiling and/or stunned minds, everyone alone together. Spread the word.

No, really, spread the GODDAMN WORD....

Here in NYC opportunities are still a bit spare*; there’s lots of tiny places to play, but the real support is elsewhere, people are still flogging the carcass of rock or nodding to trip-hop/funky breaks generica. If you know where to look, the quality is fierce, it’s just the quantity that’s hurting. Occasionally there are bigger parties, but our cretin mayor is doing his best to stop them. Here’s to directed evolution, here’s to finding more places and ways to freak em.

*ten years later, still the same old shit...except now it's illegal to dance, what inane crap. Oh wait, I moved to Baltimore, to hell with that wanking.