Last night I had a dream that I was at Funkmosphere. It was a glittery dream. The bass shook loud, and the crowd was WHAT!?! 

 

Tryin' to be smooth, I shook my booty 'til I shook it all the way over to the DJ booth; trying to get a glimpse of (the shadow that is) the Ambassador of Funk himself; Dâm-Funk. 

 

Too realistically, I was on my tippy-toes, trying to see over the turntables; hoping to say "what up" to Dâm-Funk. I tried so hard. Too hard maybe.

 

Next thing I know, the funk speeds up; out of control. Then, everything goes silent. Dâm-Funk ('s shadow) is gone, and Funkmosphere is empty.

 

Somewhere in the distance, I hear some gawd-awful synth-shit getting louder. It's happy; whimsical, even... Oh sh*t! It's my alarm clock.

 

Today, I have a phone interview with Dâm-Funk. I am excited and nervous and cannot even begin to express to you how bad I am nerding out (over here). There. I said it. Dam-Funk's sonic art instantly mellows my A.D.D. intensity, and oh-so-non-chalantly reminds me to keep a chin up, and be thankful for all that surrounds me...