A Random Story of Singing and Flying Roaches

So, yesterday. First, I noticed a flying roach as I was singing scales. I am leaving the sound track to your imagination.

Then, I went to the Nuyorican Poets Cafe, and saw something scary. Not the stories. The stories were heart-felt, and it was refreshing. But then, when somebody asks people to dance a particular move, and they just comply and dance as they are told, it’s insane. I was watching in disbelief. Who the fuck dances how they are told AND ENJOYS IT?

Which brings me to a rant. I love dancing. I enjoy it tremendously, and sure enough, I dance whatever the fuck I want, and whenever the fuck I want (exception: my apartment during the after-hours… I have a deal with my neighbors that I do NOT do that… very frustrating, to be honest, but fair is fair).

And I am very specific about the grooves I feel like dancing to. I cannot dance to quantized music, for example, it’s murder of soul. So, when I mind my business in a public space, not dancing to the music that I don’t feel like dancing to, there is always some dude who attempts to treat me like a retard and suggests that I am not dancing because I am shy. And then I go into my straightforward mode and explain my position.
Anyway. Happy Saturday, laters.