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JimmyWoo

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About JimmyWoo

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  1. The nickname? That came from my time on the club scene. Amsterdam, late 90's/early 2k's. Just for a while. Until it became stale. Most things become stale, given enough time. You need to move on, to stir, to watch the current and realise when that moment when you think you have it all sussed. I was a nightclub promoter. Gathering people into groups. Watching the patterns in the dance. Swirling, seething. Reactions to the music. Inciting and inflaming passion and emotion. Observing the mix of all different people suddenly moving and (something) as one. Disparate races, sexes, careers all turned into one giant organism for moments at a time. Organised chaos? It made for a natural segway to the Dragon. Family? I don't remember too much. No trauma, nothing that set me apart from my peers. Investment banker father, mother who was a trust-fund child. Private education, no siblings to compete with. London, Honk Kong, Dubai, back to London. A blurred succession of boarding schools and faceless teachers. A private education teaches you more than anything else that conformity and making your face fit is the key to success. I hated every waking second of it. Flashmobs. Using the net to organise events. Guerrila tactics for setting up raves and pop up club events. Abandoned warehouses and factories on the fringe where everything blurred even if just for a few hours. This was where I belonged, where I needed to be. I became, not famous, but notorious? The events were secretive. You had to know who knew whom and even then it was blin-and-you-miss-it quick. Things spin quickly beyond your control and sometimes that's a good thing. In the scene things I associated with became desired. No label clothing, drinks, you name it and if I sent a ripple through the line it got picked up. Buy the clothes. Wear the t-shirt. Pretend to live the life. Next please. I watched graffiti artists rise to fame, lapping the adoration of the masses and celebrities alike, wearing their faux anonimity like paper armour. I don't want adoration. I want it to all... to whirl and eddy like leaves in the wind. Stay hidden? No. Stand in plain sight, but people overlook what's right in front of them and that's the best anonimity. When the bee came and whisper-buzzed in my ear, telling me things (so many things!) all the way to Seoul I understood. When I went to the hotel and was shown I understood. When I came too and looked around me I could see the lines, the probabilities stacking up like gamblers chips and I knew. It's all a spiders web. Threads connecting everything. Just don't tug the wrong strand.
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