(Don’t) Dance

I was at the Box, a club type thing that plays that plays techno. Dancing away merrily, I looked around at other people dancing. The thing that struck me is how while people were dancing in couples or groups they were more or less keeping to themselves.

Then I thought back, how when the waltz was first around it was very scandalous because the man and woman were touching and dancing quite closely! Contrast this to people at the Box who stand about one metre apart.

So I phoned my mother and got her to fill me in on the history of dancing. When she was my age she was in London and went to dances where they all did the twist (that’s so cool!) but, she said, between doing the twist people danced more traditional ballroom like the quick step and fox trot.

She also remembered going to a social evening at the Blue Moon Ballroom. Everyone was doing the traditional ballroom steps, except for a small group in the corner who were do the new rock ‘n’ roll steps. However the manager asked those troublemakers to leave.

What’s it like now? You just get out there and dance. 1 2 3 4. I guess back in the days of ballroom dancing, holding gloved hands and resting the other hand on the shoulder or waist was significant because it was about the limits of physical contact. Now there’s no need to dance closely with someone if you know you’re going to be seeing them naked in a few hours.

Now that sounds really cynical. Like my generation are a bunch of promiscuous techno sluts or something. Which of course is not true, but it does happen.

The only solution is to not dance. Do cool things instead.

Falling Over

One of the few pleasures in life is falling over when there is no one around to see you.

Or not so much as no one to see you stumble over that tree root, loose cobblestone or maybe just a misjudged step and go hurtling towards the ground, rather there not being someone who sees you fall and comments.

“Whoops!”

“Ouch! That much have hurt!”

“Oh dear!”

“Oh my God! Are you all right?!”

“Ha ha!”

Etc.

If you fall over in the presence of anyone, whether they are a friend or a complete stranger, they will probably make little comment, like the situation would somehow be incomplete without comment.

But to fall over when you are on your own, is a truly wonderful feeling.

Late one night I got home, parked my car a bit close to the edge than usual, got out took a few steps, tripped on the brick edging and fell over.

My elbows got scraped, my hands stung, my legs ached and my jeans got a bit gritty, but apart from that, after the initial shock, I was fine.

And I was all alone.

No one was around to make a little remark. No one to pretend to comment on my pain. No one to try and make me feel better, which of course is suggesting that falling over makes you feel bad. No one to have a conversation like, “Are you ok?” “Yes” “Are you sure?” “Yes” with.

I was alone, and damn, it felt good.

I suggest you all find a quiet, spot and fall over and just enjoy the moment.

Fragments

Think of this as a hippy commune for the various social drop-outs of my web page.

If it weren’t for this page they wouldn’t have a home.

Sonic

I got back in my car after returning a video and a really horrible song was on bFM. It was a folk song sung by a woman and the lyrics were like “Oh holy earth, born from the womb of the sacred earth mother, see the wilderness suckle from her breast” The song was making me sick so grabbed the nearest tape, which was one jammed under the accelerator, and shoved it in the stereo. It was “Firestarter” by the Prodigy and that was one of the most beautiful sonic moments I have ever experienced.

Holding Hands

I was walking in a mall type thing in Newmarket. Along came two rather styley looking young men holding hands. Admittedly that’s not a common site in Newmarket, but it was hardly bizarre. We passed and I continued walking along. Ahead of me was a man and a woman in their late 40s. They had stopped and were taking a good hard look at the couple, looking astonished and bemused. I felt rather superior.

Beastmaster

My
brother’s
BEASTMASTER
computer
is
r u n n i n g
~Linux~

What The Hell?

I got an email from some guy about one of my web pages. He asked me:

“What the hell are you talking about? And why would you write a page dedicated to something so small? I don’t want to make you mad or anything but I’m not sure what your trying to say on your page.”

Then gave me the URL of his and ended with a cheery “enjoy”. I could do a ranty rant about how dumb this email is, but I think it really speaks for itself.

He might not know what I’m trying to say. But I do.

Homework

When I was at tech one tutor gave us homework consisting of going around all the supermarkets in Hamilton and getting as much free stuff as possible.

At university homework consists of reading chapters of really boring books.