Dance

Holy fuck, I’s a learnin’ to dance, just when I thought I’m an old dog, no new tricks. Never say never, I always said, and now it’s come to dog me down.
All the music I love becomes a new dimension. I mean, I’s a thinkin’, each time I hear those songs I love, what beat is that, how could I dance to that with my partner? Y’know, partner-dance; anybody can dance alone.
Christ, crazy fucking world. The things I do for love . . . and it doesn’t even hurt, haha. Well, in fact, it does. It’s not the dancing that hurts, but rather the music you have to listen to while learning. You can’t learn it alone, not really, even with a partner, so you go to a dance school. You’ll never guess what kinda music they play there . . . well perhaps you can. Not exactly alternative music, if you get my drift. Just thank your stars you’ve never had to dance to German Schlager. I don’t think my partner realizes what sacrifices I make, just for love. It’s like a monk breaking his oath of silence, if not worse. Christ, sometimes I think murdering little children would be less taxing.
Nevertheless, I love it. There’s nothing like dancing with a woman you love. You notice there are dances which suit you, or her, and then there are dances that suit you both. You move together, synchronized, like fucking clockwork, but easy . . . it just fits. It’s no effort anymore, once you’re on a certain level; your feet move of their own accord, and you sway like a fucking reed in the wind, enjoying every beautiful moment of being in phase with another human being, a person you love. It’s like good sex, no joke.
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And the greatest part, when you have a willful woman like I do, is that the man leads. Muahahaa. The man leads, no matter what. Uhm, I still have problems with that, since my partner can already dance, and I am completely unsure of myself and fuck it up all the time. The fact is, I’m not a good lead, though I’ve gotten better. But, oh well, she has to live with that, and it’s some compensation for having to dance to German Schlager. We then step on each other’s toes, and break apart and stop, and grin at each other, because we know exactly what is happening there. Her smiling eyes say, if I am to follow, you’ve got to lead, you son-of-a-bitch, I demand it of you. Show me what you can do. What can I do, but rise to the challenge as best I can? And I enjoy it, leading in spite of myself, in spite of the little voice in me that says she could lead. Gotta admit it turns me on. As I said, like sex. Put that little bitch in her place. Dangerous thought, that, but it’s a thought that only occurs to me when I know she wants it. Sensitive little romantic bastard that I am, I do know, when it gets down to the nitty gritty. Then it’s time to dance.

Nobody Knows

Nobody knows how things will go on from here. Nobody knows. So don’t worry about it too much. Do what you can to anchor yourself in this insane flood we call life, and help others to do so if you can. We’ll all see what comes out in the end, whether we want to or not.
Determinism says you do what you do because of genetic predispositions and social conditioning aka environment. But that still doesn’t mean they can determine your behavior, so go do something crazy to drive them up the statistical wall, please, if you would be so kind. Exercise your free will. Had my fill of statistics lately. I’d rather hear music. Listening to Habib Koité, Saramaya. And now Mannse Cise. Like a damned classical arrangement, if it weren’t for the African rhythms and instruments.
Do I digress, perhaps?
Ah, hell. Just don’t listen to anybody, and do what you want to do, having thought it through. You’ve only got this one life, and when it’s done, it’s done. It’s your last chance. Do it, after considering the consequences. The only thing I ask is that you don’t hurt others on the way if you can possibly help it. Don’t hurt other sentient beings. What’s sentient? you might ask. Fuck if I know, you’ll just have to figure that out on the way. I consider most dogs I’ve known to be sentient, and I’ve met a few humans who left me in doubt. Perhaps sentience is not a the right criterion anyway . . . it’s for you to decide. It’s subjective. Nobody knows.
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And when your time comes, don’t take it so hard. Remember the good moments, and let them go. If die you must, then die with dignity. And if circumstances should prevent you from dying with dignity, then at least go down proud of what you have done in life, no matter how prosaic it may seem in retrospect. Wotthehell. Better than nothing.