I thought I was meeting my friends for drinks, I expected cocktails. I got an intervention, a detox schedule, and a rehab facility whose brochure clearly oversold the experience.

I still need to tell you about VICE, where they'd changed the lighting again last weekend. I asked them to never change it back. No promises were made.

Four hours of ecstasy, blurred eyes, missing time, and one camera pushed beyond its limits. These are all the memories I have left of Tuesday…

NEXUS\ VOID turns one this month and it's as hardcore as advertised. I really needed all the synthetic help I had to keep up.

Before Monday could ruin everything, I said goodbye to the weekend in Sanctum’s Grotto. Nice place, but it came at the expense of a perfectly good pair of boots.

You're always late, Tuesdays are always slow and here’s your fix. My girl Peanut opens a new club with Nikki and Invad3r testing the sound system live for the first time.

My hotness study got peer reviewed at The Continental. I went for the science, obviously, and came home with several findings I still haven't looked at.

Apparently you still had questions. Opie sat me down for an interview and for once I was the one answering them instead of telling the story.

Suddenly everyone says they’re hot, and the only cure is pool parties? I’m not buying it, so I figured it was worth doing some scientific research.

A night in London gave me beautiful architecture, handsome financiers and enough financial metaphors to make breakfast slightly awkward.

Saturday became my chance to make up for missed plans, and it led me to some of my favorite dancefloors. Blue, smoky, loud and the challenge I needed.

What had to be a quiet night of shopping turned into an unexpected party, a packed dance floor, and the resolution of a very embarrassing misunderstanding.

I showed up late for Phorbin’s fantastic debut after which my rescue mission failed spectacularly. Everything else was a success, as usual.

Months after I first reached out, DJ Fredy found the time to meet me. We talked about trance, packed dancefloors, and what keeps her behind the decks after all these years.

Sonance called for a hoodie and VICE promised tropical rooftops. I thought I figured it out,  but still understood only half of it.

I thought “Burn It All” was just another thing people yell in a nightclub. Lucky for me, DJ Nina understood exactly what the dancefloor needed.

Some things are better done than said. Fortunately, Sundays at Bardeco are about recovery, familiar faces, and getting ourselves ready for another week.

I started the night in Tokyo, found myself struggling on a London sidewalk, and never made it to NYC. That may have been the least surprising part of the evening.

A few hours on a dance floor full of familiar faces, and for once nothing extra needed. Sometimes a night off is simply being exactly where you want to be.