May 26, 2006
-
I had a breakthrough tonight; I twirled. And not three minutes from my house. In my new quest for blues bands I might find, locally, I got on the Internet. Actually, I was checking out the band from last weekend, and when I saw they were playing in the town next to me I drove over there tonight.
Okay, keep in mind I am a block away from where my dad’s lumberyard was. Where I drove tonight was the town across the river from where I went to high school and our big rival. I grew up hearing this town was rock bottom. And tonight I can vouch for that.
The biker bar had more class than this joint. That’s the beer talking. The biker bar had better energy. Those toothless girls and those guys in motorcycle gear — I don’t know, it was just a better mix. Plus the band was better. I thought I might see the sax player tonight because that big, black singer was supposed to be there and I hoped he might join her again. But she was sick and there was a new singer in her place.
This band tonight was good instrumentally, they had a different bass player and the guest singer was great but between the place and the people — laid back doesn’t quite portray these idle poor. There was a bag lady in the very back who tottered out toward the end.
At first no one danced, but once the guest singer got up there I couldn’t stand it and up I went. All by myself. I’ve never done that before but once I got out there it was just like being on stage again. Only this time I didn’t give a shit. I practiced. It was a pretty big dance floor and I thought what the hell. I practiced spins. I tried figure eights. I did all those big moves you can never do on a little dance floor with other people around.
I wish my teachers could have seen me. At the club I used to go to they always asked me to perform and I always said I wasn’t ready. I only liked to dance to music I had choreographed, not being comfortable winging it with live music. It’s odd, after all this time, and in such an unlikely place, I finally did it. I can still smell my perfume: Boucheron. It’s a little heavy and I chose it for when I was wearing a costume. The last time I had it on was 2000. Even though no dancers saw me tonight, and it wasn’t belly-dance music, I smell like it counts.
Comments (11)
The problem I always have, is stopping– at least until I hit a wall or a table. And of course I have no doubt that your twirls are 1000 times more graceful and pleasing to watch.
I won’t dance. Don’t ask me. Two left feet and a history of being derided. Sad, I know.
I’d have danced with you… or at least applauded you for going out there and dancing like that. Bravo.
We really must get someone to follow you with a camera one night, sounds as if you are blossoming by the minute. Love that you just danced as if no one was watching..What is the Country Western song, I hope you dance…marilyn
Good for you!
:claps with joy: you sound so much more self-assured lately! nice!
Very cool! I would love to be able to do that..
WhooHoo, that’s great! Oh, truly great!
Hi there. Somehow I lost you in my move. I hope things are going well. I need to catch up with what’s going on with you.
Was this the belly dancing? Cool. I envy you dancing alone like that. As a kid I loved to dance, but somewhen along the line I became or began to perceive myself as klutzy and I don’t even dance for myself anymore. [Dance is a loose term. I never learned any "proper" dancing (perhaps where the negative image came from), but let the music move me.]
Sweet moves! A great place to practice and to feel the vibe. Oooh Boucheron, I have some rememered sense of that one. It counted for plenty. That is one I will have to try. The dancing too of course! No sax player does not outweigh the twirling magnificence! I can picture it and it is so freeing that I am making this my last comment on Xanga for the night so as to go to bed with this feeling still in my head. Thank you!