2003-01-12
high heels
:: penfold ::
busting a move to kylie minogue with a friend surrounded by motion and swaying bodies is quite the way to spend a saturday nite. smoke machines, neon lights, disco balls, its almost as if the room moves, not you.
observing the dance floor from the sidelines can be a rather eventful experience as well. certain folks shouldn't be allowed on a dance floor after alcohol consumption. certain boys should never look that good in high heels or eyeliner. some girls should realize that its never to late to learn the basics of hygiene and other boys shouldn't be allowed to be gay and that gorgeous at the same time. :] and some people should have left their moves in the eighties, along with their stretch pants and tube socks.
there are stories as well as sweat on the dance floor. the vanity boy, with his arms moving all over his body hoping someone will notice, the girl in the corner watching others to figure out what to do with her arms when her feet move, the older man with the hat, a cane, and a glass of liquor, dancing like a mad man, not considerate of others, only his drink. the lonely middle aged suit in the corner, only there to watch. curiosity I'm sure. the group of girls in the middle, moving in sync, giggling throughout the well rehearsed routine or the guy with his date, drearily stepping side to side, thinking about the many things in life he'd rather be doing. you can tell a lot about a person by the way the dance.
it was beautiful to watch. electrifying, an art gallery in motion. different thoughts, ideas, beliefs, sexual preferences, but nothing matters once the music starts. it all gets forgotten. to leave it all behind, that's why i'll dance.
and after it all, my brother skillfully retrieved a good sized stuffed gumby from the quarter machine at denny's.
simply icing on the cake. :]
lunaadored at 3:21 p.m.