Need To Sweat And Dance
In dire need of a good night out. It's early Tuesday evening now.
Need to sweat and dance. Too much of too recently hasn't been very exciting. Lots of narcotic-fueled powwows until the birds start chirping. The song choices and conversation topics reliably converging into the same repeating selection each time.
Music videos on the TV. Nothing left to drink. Cottonmouth in the Uber home. Denim pants and leather boots extraordinarily uncomfortable.
Sometimes it gets old. Sometimes it gets really old. Dreadful, even. Maybe we've let this become too routine and it's time for something new (sweating and dancing?). This thought is a recurring one, but oftentimes when enough weeks have passed, I miss it. It really can be fun.
Sweating and dancing is what's needed. I've only done it in its true sense a handful of times in my life and every time has been incredibly exciting. It's incredibly exciting by nature.
Of course, drugs help you reach true inhibition and can seriously elevate the experience. I refuse to lie and pretend I'm free enough to completely not care how others perceive me, especially on a dancefloor. This is a liberty I have felt before, but one I've found to be more like a mood that comes and goes rather than some kind of perpetual enlightenment.
Last time I sweat and danced was June. Outside next to an RV late after dark on a farm near the Tennessee-Alabama border. Moving to obnoxious noises my musically talented friend Niles was weaving together. Noises I'd never consider letting get anywhere near my ears on a morning commute or family game night, but the right noises to move to at that point in space and time. Making friends with strangers.
True uninhibited dancing is a really great feeling. That would be much better than whatever we're doing now! Yelling over each other and sinking into couches. I know people who do it all the time but I haven't immersed myself yet. I'm hesitant to do so and don't care to think through why.
The Talking Heads has been good medicine in the meantime. They get my legs moving.