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I danced with a girl last Tuesday who had a wonderfully bright smile. She had her blond hair back in a pony tail, and a long, sky blue summer skirt. She contented herself with looking at the floor behind me while we danced, which was fine; the angle left her looking deep in thought, but not like dancing with me was a challenge that required a lot of thought (though it is, according to some bewildered Oly follows). Her light grin was continuous. That was marvelous to look at, though I fear I stared.
The face is important in partner dancing. If you don't look like you're having a good time, then, well, what's your partner to think? That you're just going through the motions, being "Polite?" I find that insincere. There is at least one girl in Tacoma that I don't dance with because, ever since the first time we danced about six months ago, every time since then she has not smiled once, but she does smile with some other guys (most, but not all, of which do Blues). She even looks bored sometimes. Kind of a confidence-sucker, to think your partner isn't having fun. So I've chosen to not demuse her.
The Balboa class Wednesday was good, though light in subject matter if trying to describe it. Dave and Christine taught the single-step basic. For an hour. I found it a fine hour, however, and didn't want to forget a few things:
When Oly hosted its April day-long swing event a few years back (I forget if the Eagles or the Jitterbug Club hosted this one), there was a pair of Balboa classes. They were damned cool, made everyone feel flashy. Two of the teachers, members of a dance troupe from Seattle (either Zah Zu Zay or the Rain City Rugcutters, depending on the year) really showed off some stuff by going from Bal in a lightning-fast song (probably faster than Seven Come Eleven (recording recommended for sampling, not download, only for the sake of server strain)), and then transitioned to what looked like a Lindy/Charleston hybrid: Charleston kicking, in the Lindy body-path pattern. I'm pretty sure that move is called The Breakaway.
Katie and I figured it out tonight! It's easiest from face-to-face Charleston, and the lead just kicks backwards on one instead of forwards, angling the hips to get a good backwards momentum from the kick. Knowing the pattern of 1-4 is the left leg, 5-8 is the right, is the trick to doing the Breakaway.
It feels good doing that move, because it's so...widespread (bodily), and violent. Good potential damage stock if you aren't checking behind yourself. I haven't kicked anyone in any move so far, though I almost nailed Kevin two summers ago in a back-kicking floor-slap.
It's so satisfying taking up so much floor.
I'd told more than seven people I'd be at Tuesday's dance, so it became pretty necessary to follow through and show up. I'd only told three that I'd be there the week before; that meant I had some 'splainin' to do, since having a dysfunctional half a face, besides the drugs, kept me off the floor last week.
I arrived, and barely got a chance to talk. The girls I met at Super Saturday stomped up to me and promptly bled dances from me, not even giving me a chance to empty my man-purse pockets into Damian's jacket. Two dances later, others had spotted me, and soon I had done five sequential songs, without a growingly-needed sip of water and waking my legs up from weeks of sitting in front of computers (the biking didn't help). I got to sit for half a song before someone else asked me to dance again.
Damn, but it does feel good to be missed.
My etiquette may have degraded since the last time I had been on the floor. Before, I had the good sense to not do too many turns with someone who was out there for her first night. However, a girl from SOGO who I think has a marvelous sense of humor was there, dressed formally for a going-away party for one of her graduating friends (from NTHS), so I just had hell with her. She didn't even know what I was doing when I started the dance out in closed position ("Ok, Alex, I don't even know what the hell this is, how'm I supposed to do any good" (loose quote)? "Just count in six and you'll be fine" was my sure-wasn't-comforting response). Probably scared a little bejesus out of her. But, she showed that great sense of humor and laughed the whole time, so I think it went well. Hell, everyone was laughing last night, and I had good grins all over my face.
I even tricked some newbies into doing a Lindy basic. I know their feet didn't have much of an idea of what to do, but their torsos and centers of mass had exactly the right idea.
It was a good night for the Lindy Hop.
The last time she was in town, she left instructions with a few folks at The Abbey to have me sacked if I didn't make it out to dance at least once a month. Lucky(?) for me, I usually can't make it out to the Tacoma dances, so sacking shan't ensue.
I've filled my quota for the month, though. Last Saturday was an OCO concert (with Mozart's Musical Joke, with a clown), so the orchestra got this week off. I took the chance to get out to the Tuesday dance and finally get ahold of that girl who lead me to SPSCC on an off night. Her name's Ashley, and her friend who was with her at Mekong is Sam. That's more a note to myself, since I should make it a point to not forget the name of anybody who asks me to a formal.
Turns out, someone did to her what she did to me; told her there was a Jitterbug Club meeting that night. At least, according to her. I'll believe her, but I reserve the right to give her some grief about sending me to a closed campus on April Fool's Day. I didn't ask her to dinner, as I had thought I would a few weeks ago; too damn much to do, once again.
I danced again Thursday, with quite a small crowd. I hope the Evergreen Swing Club doesn't succumb to the same fate as the Jitterbug Club when I was there (that is, losing members to sunlight in the evening). Oh well; the people that are there are fascinating. There are two people of great note: One is a girl who spent 5 years miming, including going to contests. She's incredibly skinny and limber; she can tuck her foot in her rib cage. Kinda creepy, but in a good way.
The neat guy is young and spunky, and acts a bit under his age, but he's fun. He is a <Drumroll!> Professional Yo-Yo-er. I kid you not. Those exist. He even had a gig at a library before the dance Thursday. Sure, it doesn't pay the bills, but formally, he has the most random of occupations (alongside studenthood).
His car is also worth great mention; perhaps even photographs, which will come in a Thursday or two. It has a few random bumper stickers on it, which isn't too out of the ordinary; it has a Klingon "Honor before Death" sticker from the TNG era (even with a pic of Kronos! ...Qu'onos?), which is a bit less than ordinary. But the kicker is the yearbook-style decorations done with Sharpees all about.
He has his friends sign his car. There is no greater sign of personalization. He inundated friendship on me by giving me his bag of Sharpees; after a few minutes, I wrote on his roof. I'll get a picture of that, maybe in two weeks; next week, I'd like to go to Stomp! instead of dance.
Speaking of instead-of-dance's...I'm missing Blues Underground as I type. And I'm missing darling Katie's Luau; C++ assignments build up quite quickly if you don't look at them for a week or two. And, I may have to implement Graph, Vector and Matrix classes in Java if I can't figure out how to install the Javax packages; I need those classes to do a neural net application. I may write about that soon, too.
With luck, I'll get out to Olympia's Spring Swing Fling...Thing. Saturday the 30th, this month. Must remember.
A girl who (I guess) frequents the Tuesday dances in Oly had her [first] birthday dance tonight. It went OK, and the rest of the Oly dance was...uh...OK, as usual, I guess. I didn't dance so much, after I nearly ruined Damian somehow.
See, we were dancing with our partners on a fairly crowded floor. As was inevitable with me and a crowded floor, I backed into his Zone, and he stepped on my heel. This gave him a wholly unexpected Charlie Horse that put his leg out of commission; he had to stop the dance and limp off the floor, after standing their for a few seconds in a funny position, trying to fix what he thought was a cramp. It took him a half-hour to recover. I had no idea that was possible.
Anyways, after the dance, I was invited to donuts at Phillip & Bethany's place. Cool deal, so I went. I got to see a budgie be abominably cute by buddying up with a guinea pig, which almost made my night by itself. Then Phillip got a call from his sister, who was supposed to be picking up the donuts: Change in plans, go to Denny's. Off we went, where Julie threw an awesome dinner (at least, as awesome as Denny's can be). Jon (UW law student, graduated from WSU) was greatly impressed with the waitress, because she took down someone's order on her hand because she didn't have paper — above and beyond the call of duty. And she called someone "Hun," which he also thought was awesome. She got a great tip.
Another high point of the night: This dinner was free (except tip). The birthday girl's dad said he would pay for the dinner; he's in for a surprise, however. He thought it would only be eight people, but Jon, the wonderful crowd-drawer and charmer that he is, invited ten others. I think we had six tables at Denny's in a row to seat all of us. Oops.
The last high point of the night: Even though it was Julie's birthday dinner, she handed out grab bags for people, each with a card, a crazy straw, some candy, a mini-slinky, and a princess ring. My card even had a front scribed in glitter. Julie's an awesome character.
Though, she did keep us out 'til 1 at night. And Susan's trying to plan a DDR thing at 11 o'clock. ...That's in 8.5 hours. Better get to bed.
Last time dancing: A month and five days ago. Number of moves I could remember during the first dance tonight: 4. Meh. Not bad.
I danced with a girl named Marcy from Southern California. The song was slow, and I didn't feel like I had enough of a frame from her to do a Lindy basic without yanking her arm around, so I did a smooth East Coast. I'd forgotten, or more likely just didn't know, that East Coast could be smooth at all. She called my lead graceful. Not bad for 33 days on my mathaholic bum.
The WSU crowd had come into Oly: Jen, Jon, Eli, Kayla, that-shorter-girl-with-long-brown-hair-whose-name-I-can-never-remember-but-I-want-to-call-her-Kristin, Allie, and I don't know who else. Allie made the mistake of doing something really cool-looking: She had a strand of her fine Asian hair (I say fine because mine's just thick and couldn't do this) in front of her face, and blew it up and over. Sure, sounds exciting, I know, but the strand on the way up had a neat whip-lash effect. I dropped my jaw because it was so friggin' awesome and pulled the strand in front of her face again. "Do that again!" I said with childlike glee. She blew, the WSU crowd cheered. I pulled the strand in front again, and she proceeded to kick me in the shin (she stopped short of actually kicking me & leavin' a mark & stuff). There were good laughs all around.
Well, homework wasn't done, but I made it out to Tacoma damnit! Sure took me long enough. Ironically, this is the first night I've been in Tacoma since Thanksgiving week, and Alia (pen pal) nixed dancing for an orchestra rehearsal. Amanda (Hitherto known as Man-Die) called some 2nd-removed roomy and later on, hey! Alia popped in. It was nice to see her again vis à vis.
I'm not sure who else I missed that night...I've been out of the dance-loop for too long. I finally realized tonight that Nick Sheppard's really gone off to Iraq. Sure, I heard someone (I think Jim) mention it a week ago, but not seeing Nick at the dance that night was when it sunk in.
I did see Rick, though--the guy who used to be bald. He's growin' some fuzz, and looks pretty sexy, I must say.
Eeeaaany ways, my Hall of Shame (yet unpublished) has no new additions, thank you. Still goin' at 7.5. Heather for some reason decided to take away the blame of her tripping over her own feet, and say that was my fault, too...sigh. 7.5.
I probably won't make it out next week...there's plenty of Analysis homework, but also plenty of reason to procrastinate this weekend. I do hope there's gonna be something after Fool's Play tomorrow--as for before, hey, it's Valentine's Day.
*Snicker*
Sorry to tell this, but a girl at the UPS dorm--who shall remain nameless, thanks to my amazing ability to forget stuff--had a talk with her Jewish mother over the phone tonight (Friday). She was talking about doing her laundry, and her mother said, "Oh, good, you'll need clean underwear for tomorrow."
To quote Leah, *Rockets On Fire Launching*.
Ah, that has gotta be the worst possible thing you could hear from your own mother...anywhoo. Happy Valentine's Day, everybody, coupled or not.
Two steps into the hall, I absorbed the grandiose of the large, wooden plane. It rivaled the Occasions! I thought, Not only in dance area but the next floor up doesn't go off to some mystery land.
Katie and I took to the wooden floor when the first DJ'd song played. We didn't dance a little diddy, but a good series to start the night off. I exited the floor afterwards thinking how awesome it would be to dance with people from across the nation.
But then the nation arrived. Soon the floor was regulated to people who danced by appointment; the casual move of offering one's hand with a gentle smile had to be done before a song ended--that was the only way to reserve one's five square feet of floor.
And the nation kept coming.
The viewing area soon filled, too. The Century Ballroom's first floor was lined with tables, tablecloths, and candles thereupon. The atmosphere seemed fine for a dinner--but why have candles in a room filled with hundreds of dancers? The body heat alone caused the shedding of clothing.
And the nation kept coming.
Soon everyone caught on to the candles, and came to rely upon the floor's lights for illumination. Wicks and wax aside, there was simply too much heat--and a whisper later, the flames fell, imploding their light.
Smoke flew up from the blown-out candles, filling the sides of the floor with a tang. By this point I was seated on the side, having run upon a streak of shyness. The tang reached me; I inhaled and raised the corners of my mouth, forgetting I was at a dance.
Miranda sat at the table, remembering quite well she was at the dance, and resting her feet, body--any reminders. I caught her eye and let my smile explain myself.
"Smell that, Miranda?"
"Yes..."
"It smells like birthday."
"Heh, that's cute Alex." She returned my smile.
I got really lucky with my homework yesterday: An hour of reading. That was it only because Don hasn't assigned homework for the other two classes in the program yet; point being, I got have my last weekly night of dancing after all.
I traded e-mails with two people--Heather, who took pictures at various dances and is willing to send some along to me, and Alia, who plays viola which makes her automatically cool in my book. We're going to try a concert-date swap; I'm mainly encouraged to go see hers because they're playing Dvorak's 8th Symphony, which has an obscenely hard viola triplet part. I would like to see an orchestra get that right, and that kickass section with the main theme and these chromatic scales running underneath. God, I loved that part.
I learned a few math things about some people at the dance, too. For those of you (former) Tacoma regulars, remember the guy with a blonde six-inch beard and blonde pony tail, who knew a bit of Blues dancing? It turns out he's a physics professor at PLU, with a Ph.D. in physics to boot. I had a chat with him outside the hall, and he asked me what I was doing at Evergreen.
"Let's see...I'm in Multivariable Calc, which is the easiest class Math Systems has..."
"Uh huh."
"And I'm in Advanced Calculus, with...oh, let's see...ah, Real Analysis, that was it."
His face drooped when I mentioned Real Analysis. He told me that that was the class that kept him from getting a bachelor's in math (he looked at the syllabus then rethought his decision of just working in Physics on his Ph.D.). That class starts today...yet, I recall Don saying that Abstract Algebra was going to be the hardest thing we were doing.
Anyways, the Doctor (Dave's dubbing) talked about how important it was to get help from professors with the stuff, and mentioned how Tiana usually came by his office and asked him to, oh, prove this or that.
Tiana's a math major, yet she's not taking Real Analysis. She's taking Complex Analysis, which ironically is easier, because apparently a lot of things go to Zero. Now I am looking forward to that, as it may make an easier Spring quarter.
Anyways, back to the actual dance and moving of feet and such: One girl had a birthday dance, and it would've been all her if Sandra hadn't said anything: "And it's Alex's last night!" So, onto the floor I went. The Doctor joined us too, for his birthday I think. I got my proper sendoff, and even danced with mostly girls this time around the circle--I say mostly because Dave came in at the end, and there was then a bit of confusion. I tried to lead him through a turn with my left hand, which is normal; however, he tried to lead me through a turn with his right hand. I don't think we figured out who got to be the Man. We didn't really figure it out 'til the end of the song, where he dipped me completely upside down, which kicked ass. But then when he brought me back up, I think he underestimated my weight and gave me a heckuva lotta torque, enough to bring my face into the ground in the opposite direction--but I planted my hand on the floor with quite the satisfying slap. That's the second time we've failed to collaborate on something yet ended up looking cool (read: ridiculous last time) anyway. Dave and I don't communicate too well...
My next definite dance will be New Year's Eve, with many O-town regulars. I'm hoping to get one in on the Wednesday before Halloween, too--Someone gave me the idea of being Freakazoid! for Halloween, but so far I only have one (potential) venue to wear a costume besides the dance.
Dancin'll be fun in PJs, I tell you what...as will all the face paint, come to think about it. More on that in a couple weeks.
Well, I went and done it again at the Tacoma dance. I tried the Ballbuster once more with Lydia, but she ended up kinda close to a couple behind her, so she slowed down. Something in my head should've told me "This is a bad idea, George; maybe we oughtta not do it." Well, some good that did; once again, Lydia and I were on the ground, but THIS time, there were no injuries.
I don't feel too bad about it, because of two things:
1.) I told her that there was no way in hell (in kinder words) that I would let it go as one flop onto our asses (also in kinder words). So, we did it again, and when I landed on her, someone CHEERED on the floor! So, huzzah, I'm feeling encouraged--just encouraged enough to do it one more time, then I'm retiring it, since it is sorta dangerous.
2.) The other reason I didn't feel too bad about this drop is gonna come as a shocker to you dancers:
Idaho Dave fell. With Tiana. (Quick note: Tiana is not Cassie.)
I had the "Holy crap!" reaction to seeing them on the ground, mainly because Dave is, well, a God, and undeserving of 0-degree happenstances. But he and Tiana were there, horizontal, and laughing with that laugh that lets everyone know that they're OK, but a little red in the face.
Not to call him mortal or anything, but...nah, I'll leave that alone. He's still a God. Though, he is a bit hard to understand with a clapping crowd. Now, here's how I know that:
It was Dana's last night tonight, and Dave played a sendoff song for her, which was pretty much the same as a birthday dance. At some point, Dave danced with her, and then Kevin cut in. Dave came in the crowd to me, and said...well, this is what I heard:
"I'm gonna push Kevin out, catch him."
I nodded, and he indeed did push Keven out, and I did indeed catch him, but something went awry...the execution was fine from my perspective, but then I thought "Wait a minute, Dave just danced with her, and Kevin just danced with her, and nobody else is hopping in, which means...oh."
Of course, by "oh," I was at the edge of the circle, with an extremely confused Kevin in my arms. "Dude!" someone called out, probably Dave, "You're supposed to dance with the girl!"
Heh. Heh heh. Heh. *Ahem.* So I let go of Kevin and charged back to Dana, grasping her much the same way as I did Kevin--everyone had a good laugh. I also sense I won't hear the last of that anytime soon. Three people told me, "It's OK, you just really want to dance with him."
Well, all in all, there were no injuries during the night. Lydia has entered my Dancer's Hall of Shame twice now, but she was in tip-top shape afterwards. And no harm came from Dana for grabbing the wrong person during her dance; in fact, she even has me out on an ass-kicking mission. Nick didn't show up tonight (or Pat, or Will; I suspect a voyage to the Century Ballroom on their part). Dana has Rick and I out for Nick's hiney--though it'll have to wait for next Wednesday, which may be my last regular night dancing.
If I wasn't sure I was done with Olympia dances before, I'm double-ultra-sure now. I was feelin' kinda down after the dance yesterday, because not only did I pay $5 for an hour of dancing (no, I still haven't worked the Units Method problem, because it's late again), the music was (and I'm quoting Ali) Rockabilly. I never knew how to put that into words before. Thanks Ali.
Anywhoo, after Idaho Dave's Beyond Moves class, I just sorta lose feeling in Rockabilly songs; there's a swing beat, but the music encourages nothing but a slew of Basics, with a move tossed in here and there--it just doesn't seem like dancing. There's little dynamicism, or opportunity for new moves, 'til I screw up doing a standard move and have to invent something to get back to a regular basic. I'm not sure how I'm going to fare at the Jitterbug Club dances...well, those'll be mostly beginners anyway. I hope there'll be a Lindy crop this time around, instead of a bunch of East-Coasters. East Coast dancing seems to encourage Rockabilly.
Well, digressions aside, I was feeling pretty poor at dancing after Tuesday, because of the lack-of-spirit thing. I wasn't even convinced I would be at the dance after Dave's Charleston class--that's how poor I felt. And, besides that, I got my multivariable calculus book Wednesday afternoon, and hadn't even cracked it open, so it wasn't like I was going home to play Final Fantasy IX or anything.
I'm glad I skipped the math. It was an awesome night, full of heat and lots of other energy, and I met three or four high school girls who were at their very first dance, and having fun, not the normal East-Coast Training Night of a Thousand Turns. Which brings me to two Tacoma-plugging philosophy points of dance:
1.) If you're gonna learn to dance, jump into the deep end of the pool and take a course in Lindy Hop from Idaho Dave. In fact...
2.) Idaho Dave is a fountain of dance propogation. Take his classes, watch him do weird things every once in a while; he's who you learn to dance (and do basic steps, and a few moves) from.
The night went amazingly well, considering I forgot deodorant. Yeah, that should've put a damper on my flamboyant arm movements, but even with all the sweat from fast dancing and little AC, I wasn't one big, spectacular stink. (I gave myself a pit-check at the stairs below the bathroom; that's an amazingly convenient place for those little private tests.)
Historically, my best Tacoma dance nights have been the ones where I forget to put on deodorant. I seem to dance my best with an aura...just kidding, as far as I can tell I don't have a stink-radius bigger than six inches.
And no, I won't take the history to heart and conclude that deodorant hinders me. As far as I can tell, I have yet to be shunned, and I would prefer to keep it that way.
The Jitterbug Club at SPSCC decided to make t-shirts for club members, via an iron-on patch system that functioned mainly on Jen's donated time and ironing talents. Oli Newsome had this to say on his backside:
"Dancing is far better than sitting on a wet trout."
It seems non-sensical and British to me, but then, I don't have much leeway here, as the back of my shirt proudly reads:
"Woe to he/Who drops Follow Three."
See, before last Wednesday, I had dropped two and a half follow-partners. One of them was an old lady who didn't have the abdominal muscles to get out of a dip that I had over-extended myself on, so we slowly plumetted (out-of-place word, that one) to the ground, and I had to drop her the last three or four inches. This was at the Occasions ballroom, which I must say is, above all...resonant. For the mini-afro that lady had going, her head made quite the contact.
Another follow (integer) that I dropped was Spring; I just screwed up a dip and plop she did go. An "Oops," a little burning shame, and it's passed.
The half of a follow that I dropped was Susan Deuell (I probably screwed up that name--silly French spellings). During a Stupid Moves song at a Jitterbug Club meeting, Susan and Oli Newsome were dancing together, and I decided to cut in, since Oli wasn't being particularly Stupid at the time. I kicked him in the butt and sent him on his merry way (*Insert evil grin here*). I then did a few regular Lindy Basics with Susan, racking my brain for a follow-up stupid move, and she tripped coming in on one of those basics. Her fault; but since I ended up letting her fall to the ground (I don't remember if it was through my arms, or if she was too far away from me to catch her), I just chalked that up as half of a Follow Drop.
I realize now that last Wednesday, I actually dropped another follow. Well, sorta. I do a gazillion and one turns a night, and on one of those turns, this girl I was dancing with lost her footing and plopped down. She had stepped on her ankle funnily. She is still fairly new to dancing, and took up quite a bit of floor space every time I did turn her (which was a lot, since my muscle memory knows turns darn well). I still don't know if I should count that as a drop on my behalf or not; I decided to conveniently ignore it, for the sake of my shirt.
But there is no way in hell I can ignore Tuesday's ...resonance.
I don't remember how I ended up out there, but I was alone on the floor, somewhat near the DJ stand, spinning around like a careless child (that's meant in a good way). Suddenly, Andrea (Olympian swing dancer) grabs me from behind, and I use her momentum to spin myself. Or something; to make a potentially long and spotty story short, I ended up on my back, with my legs high in the air. My memory's actually quite spotty on how that happened...but nevertheless, that's the context.
Andrea pulled me up, and we started doing some Lindy. I did a left-hand turn, maybe a little too flamboyantly, and she fell. Oh, man, did she fall. Ass-first, vector of motion was DOWN. And "the Earth...done quaketh" (Lewis Black). She plopped onto her back, a huge smile on her face. Of course, I didn't fully realize she was smiling, and therefore enjoying herself, because I was too busy thinking "Hoooooooooooly shit, did I feel that through my shoes?" And, Andrea and I were still just about the only people on the floor.
I helped her up, and she was laughing and chortling, so it was all in good spirit. We had a fun dance after that--vertically. But when I walked towards my Precious Water, Cassie and Aaron were siting there, poised to wag my shame back at me. They had come to the dance for the Birthday Dance Jim and I were sharing, but since neither of them dance much (Aaron, none at all), they didn't have much to do but be an audience.
Cassie quoted Black.
Aaron had his fingers held high, for the world to see: "Three."
Jim was a little of both, with emphasis on "Three."
So, here was the Plan: My shirt promised me Woe. I didn't feel like having Woe. So, at Aaron's suggestion, I'll just take a marker and strike through "Three" and write "Four" below it (sorry, Jen!). The rhyme will still be there, and people will be able to see the ...update.
Note how I said that "was" the plan.
Nick (Sheppard) came behind me as Aaron and I were chatting about something, and he started blues-dancing me from behind. Granted, male-to-male, this looks about on par with watching two guys wrestle, differing in that blues dancing is meant to be dirty. He was singing "Happy Birthday, Mr. President," in the style of Wayne (Wayne's World). Miranda joined in, and blues-sandwiched me between her and Nick. After the last note, they both commenced birthday spankings--and I had 19 to go through. So, it naturally followed that I tried to wriggle my way out, and ended up tilting myself and Miranda. Nick was suspending me, and I was suspending Miranda--until Nick gave me a birthday "spank" on the Wrong Side, with a fist. It was somewhat light, but still enough to pull the Male Reflex, and Miranda lost her suspension. Down she went.
See, here's my point of debate: She was not Follow Five, because not only were we not dancing, she was SPANKING ME at the time.
In any case, I may have to cross out "Four" and write "Five" below that. Aaron also thinks I should have descriptions of how I dropped each follow--that's kinda iffy for a t-shirt.
Some time in December or January, I had taken a liking to the phrase Carpe Diem. I hadn't made it my life's philosophy or anything, but I had it in my mind's foreground a bit more.
Of course, I can't resist the temptation to play with anything that happens to be in my mind's foreground. So, I coupled Carpe with many a pseudo-Latin term. I had, and continue to have, little knowledge of words in Latin, but I assume that a good deal of Latin nouns end in "-em" and "-us." I had just come off a stint of pseudo-German cognates that ended in "häggen," and was ready to start a new wave of additions to the sub-vernacular English.
Also around last December, The Two Towers premiered. At somebody's house, we were chatting about Hobbits, and Cassie's fetish thereof. I decided to be clever at some point in the conversation, and spouted this fresh phrase: "Carpe Hobbitus!"
I think Cassie liked it so much, it went on her swim-team sweatshirt. I think. I know something about curly-haired boymen went on that shirt.
Well, I had dropped that craze after a while, and stopped with the brand-new Latin words, until last Wednesday at Idaho Dave's Lindy Bomb. Ali, Miranda, Katie & I were sitting on a side of the Abbey Ballroom, and the room was sparsely populated--it was a bit late in the evening, and most of the dancers had parted. Ali and Miranda both wanted a dance with Dave before calling it a night, but they never could get his attention from the front desk and DJ stand.
After a song or two, Dave finally looked available, but neither Ali nor Miranda were paying attention. So, I prodded Ali into trying to get Dave's attention with "Carpe Davem." I got a good chuckle out of Miranda. Unfortunately, Dave went into a dance with his regular partner, or somesuch, so Ali asked me for a dance. "Carpe Hobbitus" I said as I accepted her hand and went out onto the floor.
Katie's jaw dropped to the floor; Ali wasn't there when I invented that phrase for Cassie, and she was pretty oblivious to what I said, since it sounded all Latin-y. The reason I said this, for those of you who don't know Ali, is she's a tiny woman, who spent the 18 years of her life growing to a little over five feet tall. She never found out that I said "Seize the Hobbit" before our last dance that night.
If I had a Snidely Whiplash mustache, I would've been twirling it with a twenty-tooth evil grin.
Last week, I danced not one, nor two, but FIVE DAYS in a row! Kickass.
My legs have yet to complain at me, even though I Shagged thrice Friday night. Further kickass, there was a workshop for 5 hours Saturday with the Raincity Rugcutters. Besides the Three Golden Rules of the Lindy Basic, they showed us drops. Katie and I plan to keep the drops in practice, at SPSCC or wherever.
At the dance last night, I even danced with one of the Rugcutters (Elise), and she finally showed me how to get a follow to start swivelling. That makes two professional Jitterbug dancers I've 'Hopped with.
Kickass.
I need to get someone who goes to Friday night dances to do some Stupid Stuff with me on Tuesdays, though...last night, there was a fast fast FAST Lindy Circle, such as Dancestore.com's Circle clips. Of course, it was mostly the Rugcutters dancing, flinging people through the air, etc. Idaho Dave was probably the only local dancer who went in the circle.
I wanted to dance in the circle, too. I'm nowhere near talented enough to do aerials like the Rugcutters, or Balboa like the Rugcutters...but I had a whole friggin' repertoire of Stupidity to show! Even Oli Newsome's OldMan Charleston (knees together for all steps). But apparently, nobody wants to make quite the ass of him/herself that I'm willing to of myself.
Mayhaps I'll drive Jen down to one of the Tuesday dances. I'm not sure if she'd take the "Let the world see your Stupid" offer that I'd make her, but at least she and I have done the most Stupid Moves together.
I want to do something besides the Elwood Dance à la Charleston for the Tuesday dances. 'Tis my little dream for now.
(After the "No Mondo Dump" incident, I think I can already picture what Zach's thinkin' as he reads this entry.)
(But I kid.)
Lemme just say that, hands-down, Oli Newsome is a great Shagger. I've watched him Shag with Adrienne at SPSCC, and I've watched him Shag with a professional photographer. Of course, he Shags with his girlfriend alot, particularly on Saturdays (I think) while they're practicing. They've even videotaped themselves Shagging, and studied their bodily movements, even improving upon the Shag.
So, since I knew that he is such a great Shagger, I asked him tonight if he could teach Ali and me to Shag. I did, of course, have both hands clasped between my legs, with a little curtsy and high girly voice, and he could do nothing but grin and say "Oh yeah, I'll have you two Shaggin' for the next week"
(not word for word, but close - he intends to have us practice Shagging at home too, not just in public).
So, Oli showed Ali and me what our twenty toes had to do on the floor, and he had us Shaggin' by ourselves, not three feet apart from each other. Of course, Ali and I are both so new to Shagging that we could do little but watch each other, or keep our individual grooves going on.
Of course, since I'm a particularly ballsy person at SPSCC, I asked Ali if we could Shag together, since she already looked like she had mastered the basic movement. I Shagged her through a whole circle before her ten toes fumbled something - so we went back to practice-Shagging by ourselves. However, Miranda joined us! All three of us were happily Shagging away, watching each other. I'm surprised that Miranda didn't just start Shagging with Ali or me, since the most basic Shagging doesn't have to involve too much controlling of one's partner.
I'm also sorta writing this to remind myself to get something from Oli Newsome next Thursday. Yarrow, Nuvo, and probably someone else told Ali that her head shouldn't bob while Shagging, but Oli told her that she should have a static head while Shagging - and static it is! It's amazing watching her legs bounce about while Shagging, but not see her head move too much.
Anywhoo, Oli said that he would bring a tape to next Friday's dance with some of the nation's best Shaggers on it. I can't reccommend enough that everyone who can come to the Jitterbug Club dance next Friday. Hope to see you then!
_
BTW, the Carolina Shag is one of the greatest dance steps, if one is searching for a workout - it's always done to fast songs, and has hops on every step of the Basic.
I imagine my calves'll make me feel my Shagging tomorrow.
Jimminy Crappit, was swing exhausting.
I'm starting to think that my Lindy Hop is better than my East Coast and Charleston - I learned Lindy with much more care than the latter two. So now, I can spin around in the wondrous Lindy Basic, doing a fair amount of twist-ish moves - at the expense of my left arm, though. I need to learn a dance where the lead's left arm doesn't control the follow for most of the time - perhaps Balboa is the solution. I guess I'll see April 19th (with the Rain City Rugcutters workshop - hint hint subtle hint to e-mail me for more info hint hint).
Meanwhile, the attbi server seems to be having issues cramming the pictures through its mail system. Crah...I have about 5.5 MB of pictures that are decidedly clogging my Outbox...sigh. And that's zipped...
Ah, nevermind. The mail server finally choked one of the messages down - it's only a matter of minutes now before Oli and Jen get the pics.
Well then; That, as they say, is That. I'm a bit tired, and thinking I should let my poor left knee have a rest. So, good night, all.
Oy, my legs. They haven't been sore like this since track of '01. Oy, my ridiculous high-knee walk won't be happenin' today, no siree Bob...
Last night was the Jitterbug Club's opening dance at SPSCC. The turnout wasn't stellar, since some people probably have better things to do on Valentine's day than dance (like have a date), but the small group guaranteed making quite a few new friends, at least.
I spent a bit more than four hours at that dance making new friends. Methinks I use my left arm a bit too much - the shoulderblade started to complain ever so slightly three hours into the dance. Yet, I still don't think I pull strong enough to get the follow Linday Hoppin'...
Ah, but fueled on one of Oli's granola bars and plenty of water, I stuck around 'til the end, where about eight people remained. I recommend to anybody who doesn't have Friday night plans (hey, it's Olympia, it's quite possible) to come on over to SPSCC'S Student Union Building at six o'clock next week. Parking's free, you don't need to know too much swing to come, and it's always a blast to see Nick (not Wilkins, a tall guy) pull out some extraordinarily stupid move.
He did something that he called the "Magnetic Bumper," or somesuch, which was basically a Linday Hop with many a forward pelvis thrust, training him and his dance partner all across the floor. Oli awarded him with the "Coolest Stupid Move" metal sign.
Now, honestly, who'd want to miss the "Coolest Stupid Move" sign? Hope to see you next Friday =)