Once upon a time I wrote a book. Which became a podcast. Which became a life's purpose. Here's the first chapter to the next volume. A better version with fewer slipups. Because life always gives you a redo, Darling. Use it. Make another choice. Because there's always another. Plus, I hear home in that bass.

Are you ready for orbit? Because the only way forward is back. Way back. Back into time. Someone stop me before the hands flutter their butterfly wings and I start sounding like an episode of True Detective. On and on 'til the break-a-dawn. hagthebook.com IG @naewhitman

1986. 2AM. #RVA Scandal's. Version 1A

FINALLYYYY! Second Mix. Baby needs to lay off the effects sometimes, but that’s okay. At least I made my mistakes on the downbeat.

Fielden’s, where I spun around many a night, DJ George Bricero at my side. Trying to find out who I was within the beats & mirrors. Mixture of old and new on a more chill, vibe. Like a lazy pool party. Or an after-hours basement. Minute 25 got me waving my arms around like a Minoan Snake Goddess so it’s all good. Cheers friends, be well. Remember to allow.

Fielden's Basement #RVA

Get ready. TECH HOUSE. Mama took a 180 degree spin and then did it again and liked it so much she did it again and again and again…

The House of NAE. The Book Which Became The Podcast Which Became a Calling.

glitxch.

Arya, darling. Syrio Forel in ballet shoes. Diamonds skip-dancing on my clear blue waters. I've heard it all before. But now it feels different. I see your glitter. I honor it. I bow to it in prayer. To all the boys who showed me how and why to find it...

Water Dancer.

Started oiled bronze with a bit of grey steel then went all Strawberry Bubbalicious on the thing. Sparkly, glittery, like diamonds on the water. Aperol spritz and frozen limoncello. Ending with a shot of Jager. Enjoy my darlings. Toast this BRUTIFUL life.*

*Sure there’s a bit of finger painting at the beginning, here and there. It’s a process like anything else. But the curation? Yeah. Feels solid.

HouseOfNae

Sparkle. Flow. Flash.

Flow. Buttery glittery and soft. With a bit of Finland at the end for a nice peppermint patty chill. Because it’s good to have a bit of conflict in your art. Especially if makes you tingle and giggle. Wear a hat today. Why don’t you? Why not?

Swollen Bent Wattage.

Hard and fast. Because last week sucked and I don’t want to carry it with me. Tech House with a fudge ripple layer of Love Unlimited Orchestra vibes if it was mixed with bones of titanium and whirled around a garage like an industrial tornado. Because you’re worth it darling, you really are. Walk on. Let it go. Make it WERQ!

DIG. SCRATCH. CLAW

Debutante Walking. Debutante Werquing. Debutante Manifesting. This mix is my debut, Sunday, December 11, 2022, Saigon Blonde. 9pm. The first rest stop on a long journey. Thank you. To everyone who liked, encouraged, scolded, loved or gave me a LET'S GO!

Disco Giraffe.

Don't let the title fool you. Deep dark metal tech house played in a dim club at a late hour. The time when you feel like you're the only one hearing that particular sound under that other sound. That's my space. That's me. That's Malibu Skipperland.

Malibu Skipper.

My first paid gig. So yeah, this one I'm gonna remember when I'm old and gray and rocking in the chair with a Cheshire Cat smile. Thinking how I did some shit. Yep. I sure fucking did. Enjoy. Merry Christmas. Remember to allow. Show up for your life.

Tangerine Banana Pomegranate. Steep Station. St Petersburg, FL 12-23-22

With 111% Nae-Nae. Mixing feels like fabric making, something I also do. Cosmic Giraffe fabric is wholly me, w/crazy patterns which somehow fit. Frayed edges when Mama forgets but mostly seamless. Glitch, some church, lots of comets. Allow them darling. Happy New Year.

COSMIC GIRAFFE.

A lot like that. Fabulous. Makes a statement. Messy halfway down the back in that one place because you whispered to a darling someone and they pitched their drink sloppy. Still it's your favorite coat. You wear it with your stomping boots. Like life.

Fake Fur Coat.

Stomping boots. Everybody should have a pair and that’s the thing about stomping boots. They can take many forms. The ring you slam on your finger as you walk out the door. The coat that makes you feel like an Empress when you enter a room. Those stomping boots making noise as you throw yourself across the room in such a way it looks like you’re gliding. That’s the kind of attitude we need these days. An ease and purpose. I hope this mix brings you that.

ps. A couple missteps but there's always that. This is the moment I actually have something to say, because I finally learned my letters. I finally learned to walk. To stomp.

Stomping Boots.

I love a good waistcoat, darling. Brocaded. Elaborate. It makes me think of Dandies. Mercenaries wielding swords in floppy hats. It makes me think of PIRATES. Thank you One of Us Events! Playing B2B with Valentina Schwartz & La Catira was incredibleeeee.

Waistcoat.

Meant for headphones. Find your favorite place in Tampa or across the bridge and settle in. Close your eyes. Dare to dream. Lots of old familiars from one band in particular because I find now, like then, my boys set the mood. No matter how bad I feel, they set the mood to midnight. To that moment just before or just after the club when you’re in your car screaming down the pavement, streetlights passing overhead like diamonds. That time. For us it was always Depeche or Pet Shop or Church or Cure or This Mortal Coil. Our urban companions. Shirts freshly cuffed and starched, everyone smelling of vetiver and full of promise and twenties. You just know you’re going to meet the man of your dreams, and if you didn’t? If this scene is 2am or 4, or 6 and dawn is just coming up over the horizon and maybe your hair is mussed? Even better. That time.

Sartorialist. A favorite word. Tried to sell Bonobos at Nordstrom, but they wouldn’t have me. Now I’m glad because my calling is elsewhere. On the dancefloor. Adjusting beats instead of my boys’ shirt cuffs. They said I was the only one who ever did it right.

Thanks for the memories darlings. I’m taking my headphones to the causeway. See you at Busto’s event tomorrow night, St. Pete Brewing and Synergy Glass on Saturday. Because this mix is fucking something to me. A real departure. Mama needs to celebrate.

Abalone Cuff Buttons.

Sounds even better than it did in my ears LIVE. We begin church-ey get a little scrape-ey then glide up into the air right at sunset. Ever seen that street in NYC where this happens once a year? Yeah, High Vibe Friday felt a lot like that. Thx Don Solo :)

GROMMET. Steep Station 2-17-23.

Mixture of old and new, borrowed and blue. Woven and layered and thick, sometimes scrapey, sometimes scratchy, sometimes like chocolate silk pie. Yeah your Dream Weaver mixes her metaphors too when she’s making fabric. Enjoy my giraffes.

STACKED HEELS.

It’s jubilant in Ishtar’s temple of gold, beautiful church gospel every color of the rainbow. Until life happens. Again. Surrender the Trigger! The mix must SLOW DOWN. You might be making a “big mistake”. But then. You learn to “…Breathe.Love.Breathe.”

Gold Filament.

To say I’m grateful is an understatement. Thank you for an incredible night at Steep Station Don Solo and the entire High Vibe Tribe 727! Hot House Ecstatic Dance Forever! Thank you for celebrating “Oscar Day” with this Cosmic Disco Giraffe 🙂

OSCARS GREEN CORSAGE. FULL LIVE SET. 3-17-23.

Urban Toreador. Slipping Glimpser. Cosmographer. Creator. Disco Giraffe. DJ. Roller Girl, she’s taking chances. She just loves to take them all💋
🎧🦒🪩🎪🍏🪐

House of NAE 🦒🪩🎪🍏🪐

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