In Venice on my daughter’s birthday, strolling Abbot Kinney just past the canals, bathing in that Angeleno light suffusing everything, I wanted… to quit. I wanted time off. A beach existence. It has been a rough year. And then I saw a sign. It said:
Yes, I thought. I want to do breath work and be catered to by Ministry of Sound Frequency Healers and, after a serious kickboxing workout, I want to lead a meditation with some crystals and then I want to be the one with the details on why the Inner Silent Intention Room is different from the meditation room tout court.
I wanted to enter SOULHOUSE. But they were closed. So I snapped a picture and ended up, in an insomniac moment at 2am, distracting myself not with an appointment for inner crystals but with a rabbit hole of questions about this house of soul: Why does a music producer and “sound healer” by the beach have an Alzheimer’s nonprofit that he started with Dionne Warwick and an OnlyFans model?
Perhaps this doesn’t happen to you.
Research about anonymous corporations and money laundering is a minor habit. It can be a useful lens through which I see the business world, or it can be like an inner hammer, where, when some part of me is longing for escape, everything I see in the world looks like a distracting nail.
I'm serious about wanting to join this place. A soundhealing meditation kickboxing studio by the beach would not be totally out of the realm of possibility for me, as a second act. I have led meditations. I grew up in Berkeley, California. And I found that sign charming. My first response was that it could truly only happen here, only in L.A., my L.A.
So, the owner, Damon Elliott, is the sound healer. He seems to be a music producer. Instagram reveals that he works with “Hertz” and Afrobeats.
He also has a very late night television show on NBC. I could only find one episode, with Mike Tyson. Tyson sits bare chested on the couch, his nipples occasionally covered by white cushions that he seems to be enjoying rubbing in a gentle tactile way. He talks about being a genius, and about his mother.
Elliott and Tyson have evidently known each other a long time. Every other word out of Tyson’s mouth is a bleeped-out f-bomb. Tyson is also listed as a co-host. The third co-host, besides Elliott, is a lawyer who claims the title of CEO of Food & Beverage magazine.
Is this show really on NBC? Is NBC OK? Will there be other episodes?
On his website, Elliott emphasizes that you can get married on his show. He is certified, to marry you, and they have a team, waiting in Las Vegas, to customize your live televized marriage.
“Whether it’s selecting the perfect celebrity guest, choosing the ideal venue for your reception, or deciding on the theme of your after-party, our team is dedicated to making your wedding as unique and special as your love story.”
Please, someone, sign up for this.
Damon Elliott’s other business is a nonprofit, a charity registered with the state of California, called For The Mems. It claims to raise money for Alzheimer’s research. So, I’m assuming that “mems” in this case means “memories.” For the memories? For the people’s memories?
The nonprofit’s public forms show that it is small enough that it doesn’t have to file public accounts of its officers’ pay scale. So, no dice on using 990s to figure out more details on why in the world Elliott got into the Alzheimer’s funding game.
The website is barebones. There’s a stock photo of people in Volunteer t-shirts with a form where you can type in your name to sign up for unspecified volunteer opportunities. The News sections is a set of links to articles from the scientific press about Alzheimer’s drugs. The Team is identified as Elliott, the aging R&B superstar Dionne Warwick (yes, that Dionne Warwick), and a young woman named Serena Becker.
Here is a photo of some of Serena Becker’s work for the nonprofit:
There is little else online about Serena Becker, other than bathing suit pics. The link to her OnlyFans account shows a reasonable amount deal of activity.
Serena seems likable. I support decriminalizing and legitimizing sex work. I remain skeptical of her commitment to Alzheimer’s fundraising.
Two days ago, at time of writing, the SOULHOUSE Instagram posted that they are “closed until further notice,” with a phone number to contact for emergency healing sessions.
I'm not sure that I don't need emergency healing. But without a reporting budget, I don’t know that I can contact Soul House to find out more.
I sometimes feel that West of La Brea is a different country, from my easterly part of the city, but I still love it. Part of what I love is that, beyond the luminescent air and the cute shops, it’s an urban beach with a sense of history, a community that used to combine the cutting edge of the counterculture with a flinty spirit that fights for its own. Part of me believes that whatever is going on at Soul House, it might be healing some folks, it might be part of the still-woven social fabric.
Of course, as Morrow Mayo once wrote, in a piece I was quoting for some literary historical research, "any wizard, geomancer, soothsayer, holy jumper, herb doctor, whirling dervish, snake charmer, medicaster, table turner or Evil Eye—any form of black magic, demonology, joint jerking, witchcraft, thaumaturgy, spirit rapping, back rubbing, physical torture, or diabetical novelty—any such will find assured success and prosperity in Los Angeles, despite fierce competition."
Do you need emergency healing?
If you decide to volunteer to be married by sound healer Daman Elliott, you might not be disappointed.
But I don’t know. And I have to get back to work.
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