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skeleton email — Danger Factory

[Verbatim]

Rex Edhlund (Danger Factory, Industry Showroom, Hypno, Kulture Magazine) Responds To An Enemy Well-Wisher

Rex Edhlund, a public post
[This is a reprint from his Facebook. Check out Rex Edhlund’s newest project, SuperLiterateProgect.org. ~Editor]

Got a weird email from a person a zillion years ago. I suppose it’s cool to get me remembering things for a possible memoir.

“Ha ha. You are my enemy of long ago, who slung the N-word at me in negative anger. No ass kicking at the time, you got a pass on that one, pal. Still got nothing good to say about you, but on the other hand. It’s good to see that you are alive and well. ”

Rex Edhlund
Rex Edhlund
I responded –
I think you got the wrong guy dude. I don’t think I have ever called someone the N-word.
But if you were my enemy, it must have been because you were fucking up. If you have nothing good to say about me… you never knew me.

He came back with-

No, I got the right guy… Rex from the Circle of Friends loft in S.D. I am Gerald, the one who had Dread locks, the same one that your boy Shifty dissed my God father, and both of you dissed my Friend from D.C. Dave Holliman. (Who helped you shoot a video project and Green Jelly Studios).
I was also the guy who talked up for you when you were to Chicken Sh*t to face Brother Kieth from The N.O.I. over some T-shirts that they paid you for, and you never made for them? Yeah, my last encounter with you was when you kicked me out there and said from a distance away, and I quote “I getting tired of that N-word hanging around her giving tours”.
The day you said that, I was there with Check signer’s son, Joe Cheatem. His father Chuck was about go half with my God father, Roland Beanum and invest 300k in that. place. After that incident, I never went back there. Even after I was invited back a few weeks later by Mushured, and another guy who worked for for Hypno.
I went to work with WorldBeat, and a few other orgs, before going back into raising money for music & films productions. Since then, I have been investing in, and consulting land deals. You also called me a pathological liar back then too. Wow, well this pathological liar is holding more than 200k in his bank acct, and has his own fund. I can say some good things about you, I respect you for doing Hypno & Sin mags, you seemed to be a pretty straight up dude, and good/person person, that is before Shiela & Blair sunk thear hooks into you.
Don’t mean no ill towards you, but that’s the way it went down, Bro. Maybe you’ve changed since then, but the way I see it, we were once friends, but parted was as enemies. But, I never wish bad on anyone. It’s good to see that you’re still around. No apologies were ever issued from you after those incidents listed in the above, but just to let you know. I forgive you for all that f*cked up sh*t. You be good to yourself, and good rest of your journey. FIN.

So, after THAT blindside. I wrote this.

Okay, you’ve been stewing on this for 25 years, so I will level with you.
I remember you. I still don’t believe I said N. I would be more of a “Motherfucker” kind of guy. I am 99.9999 percent sure you heard someone else and attributed it to me. It has happened a few times, that a memory gets stretched to villainize me. It sucks to be in charge. Anyhow, I have always hated racial shit and it would be a far stretch for me to stoop that low. That being said, if I was under some kind of fury and madness, and DID say it… it was a psychotic fluke that I regret and will never recreate. If you are correct, I apologize for that horrible discretion with all that I have. That would have been a person I would have hated to be.
Now, for you to discover how you were perceived.
While you had your free reign of the space I paid for, Gravedigger (RIP recently) watched you and called you out repeatedly as a liar. I gave you the benefit of the doubt but then caught you in a half dozen lies. You weren’t a straight shooter then. You embellished the FUCK out of everything. It got troubling. Very.
You were also treating the loft like some kind of dot com money making scheme. That wasn’t interesting.
This was a project that didn’t owe anyone a hall pass. It wasn’t funded. It was a recession! I worked my ass off and gave every penny I had accumulated to creating a mad punk art space for mind expansion, creative exploration, media, and collaboration. Unfortunately, humanity has far more users than contributors, so it was not possible. My Utopian delusions were unrealistic. There were too many unnecessary complications, I sadly gave up and decided to step away from the incessant arguments that disrupted what could have been a creative process. Disruptions that you participated frequently in and often interrupted the business of the magazine. Which I remind you- PAID ALL THE FUCKING BILLS!!!! For everyone!!! And made the space free for everyone. A color-free, class-free, creative meritocracy with all walks of life participating. I am biased, but only towards creativity. You can be whatever color or belief, it’s the core that I care about. I’m surprised that wasn’t obvious. But I had given it a 3 year fight, and left it to die under its own weight or thrive without me as I went on to other projects. It collapsed not long after I left.
Shifty? He dissed everyone, then went on to fuck EVERYONE. He wasn’t my partner by choice. I inherited him. So, no surprise or defense there. He was nuts. I did my best to harness him.
Don’t know what I was overwhelmed with regarding Brother Kieth, but I printed a ton of stuff cheap for him before my shop was burglarized and ransacked. I had nowhere to go but the magazine. I might have been on a deadline or something. There was shit tons of stress and I was the SOLE person who had accepted responsibility for rent and the safety of ALL the equipment at the loft. I must have been sideswiped that day. I’m sure I could have ultimately handled it, and it could only have been a difference of a couple dozen shirts. That’s all he ever did. It’s a different story, but The Store That Cannot Be Named was another creative hub attempt that was broken into and robbed of pretty much everything. I am an early punk rock kid with no family or support system just doing my scrappy ass best in San Diego, so it killed me. I had a yard sale and put it all into starting the loft in order to take the job as Editor of SIN Magazine. A job that was only possible if we all jammed into the loft at 6th and Broadway.
The rest, about investment schemes and that shit… there should NEVER have been any investors in the loft. Ever. Your family was saved. It was an art experiment that took everything I had. Plenty of good came from it. The magazine paid ALL THE BILLS, Circle of Friends just brought the toys and chaos. I had to deal with running a mag on a shoestring AND deal with a million wild cats screaming around what I had intended to be a communal creation space. You made it weird and you had to go. You were but one of dozens of people I had to remove. Nobody else ever fucking stepped up, they just murmured in the background and then I had to fucking do it. It sucked. But it had to be done, so, there I was, my life depending on it. I did what needed doing.
You going on to make money is not what would impress me. In fact, every pathological liar I have ever met went on to make plenty of money, particularly in real estate. To share situations, I am similarly successful. I am happily retired from the results of endeavors, and moving into more, but the most important thing is that after the loft I went on to create more projects that shared and helped nurture success for not just me but for everyone. D-Town, Industry Showroom, the Bohemian Market, Danger Factory, it goes on. Now, finally realizing that the rising tide of those around me is what makes me most fulfilled, I am working primarily in the nonprofit world to help kids that were as fucked up as I was. Fucked up but with a desire to be good, great even. Even if no one ever knows. Even if those that got tossed off the free ride will try to demonize.
Sorry it stuck with you so hard. I hope you learned from it. You weren’t being one of the good guys back then. You were trying to turn an art project into an investment scheme. It would not have worked and it would have negatively affected all parties involved. It couldn’t have been allowed.
If that is somehow wrong, then the lesson is to see how you were perceived.
Bottom line?
You better find a better enemy. I just don’t fit the bill.

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review: Club Decades

[You Can Dance]

Stripclub Goth


by Reviewer Rob

This location has history which for San Diego as a navy town that was developed after the big war is rare. A Portuguese immigrant war vet prize boxer, the late Horatio Vella, built it as a touring band venue dance/night spot (not a strip club) called The Green Onion in the mid 1960’s and later sold it to the Dirty Dan’s strip club chain in the 1980’s when it was time for him to retire and amazingly it’s still operating. Bryan Pollard, a local promoter, is doing another club night in the back room there now (which in the 1970’s was where the pool tables were) for the college students and goth denizens every Thursday night. It’s called Decades for the 1980’s and 90’s era of music it has. Also he does a fetish/bdsm-themed industrial music night that’s thrown on, I think, the second Friday each month. You can call the club for more details. Back to the review. It was dismally slow last night. In the goth club one couple danced to the dj. After paying the doorman $5 and entering I greeted Bryan who was on the couch in the back of the club and got an update on his health woes. I then passed through the glass doors into the strip club for a drink and maybe less than half a dozen dancers we’re working the crowd of as many patrons. One dark haired dancer was on stage doing something and no one was at the rail.

Fine, no big deal. I sat at the west end of the curved bar and a pretty big-boobed dancer and wide hips who said her name was Natasha immediately came over and sat next to me, telling me it was her first night working there. I tried telling her right away that I just got there and wanted to chill but she said the same. I liked her looks okay. I’ll credit her with being very sweet, not pushy, not asking for money, talking for a while, listening to me, and not ever taking me to on my offer go buy her a drink. Plus her face was 9 or a 10, long blonde hair with serious nice big boobs. Large butt though, but hey. Afterward I talked to the Bryan promoter in back sitting alone in his goth club and heard his story for a while before leaving. I’ve seen him around this town forever, as he’s one of only two industrial club promoters in San Diego. I’ll see if this club’s better on the bdsm night later this month. Hopefully it and the strip club will have more action happening.

One can hope.

Club Decades flyer, Sn Diego, CA.
Club Decades flyer, Sn Diego, CA.
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Americana Dance Hall

[Photo log]

The Grand Old Office

The Americana dance and music scene

words and photos by Reviewer Rob

One night a month The Office on 30th Street in San Diego (the classic old completely remodeled Scolari’s Office space, remember?) turns into a country-western honky tonk now and it’s a free for all on stage as local talent does their best Americana version of classic like Merle, Hank, Johnny, and others, as well as some originals. Bring a cowboy hat and drink Jack straight.

The Grand Old Office
The Grand Old Office
The Grand Old Office
The Grand Old Office
The Grand Old Office
The Grand Old Office
The Grand Old Office
The Grand Old Office
The Grand Old Office