The Kind Journalism

I have for some time been very fond of pole dancing. I've even done a little bit myself, although in that regard I remain entirely a novice. As a fan, I've gotten somewhat familiar with the art and the sport of it. It's such an impressive feat of athletics and artistic expression that I'm badly frustrated by those who mistake it for stripping or anything of the kind. It's an amazing thing to see, and those who do it are incredible human beings.

Still, it is poorly understood by most and commonly derided in mainstream media. I figured this would hold true when I laid eyes on a pole dancing profile on the front page of the Wall Street Journal. The stipple portrait showed a dancer stretching. The continuation of the article showed the same dancer performing in a color photograph (thus proving how times have changed at the staid journal of record for matters financial).

Burlesque Night In America

I have mentioned the new improv team that I have joined, and I think I might have said something about some of the aspects of being on this team that are new to me, one of which is the regular scheduling of outings meant to foster esprit-de-corps. The first outing was salsa dancing, and I was content to participate only to fulfill my obligation to the team. I would not have gone otherwise, I assure you.

Happily, the next month's outing was to be planned by me. I gave it some thought and reasoned that I would bring something to the table that no one else would have. After all, that's why I'm on the team. I do things in shows that only I would do. What I settled on was a burlesque show. I've been to a few, enjoying them all tremendously. There is the obvious sex appeal in them, but there is music, dance, costume, character and story in them. I felt the team would enjoy it.

The Dupe

Every once in a long while, the circumstances are such that I find myself out dancing. I don't seek this out, but on such occasions it finds me. I appreciate that it is a useful means of socializing, and that eschewing it is hazardous to my relationships. Maybe it sounds like something I only tolerate, which is partly true, but there are some fun parts to it which even out the exhaustion, the money spent and the many other discomforts.

A good example lies in the fun I have judging others on the dance floor. A wide range of people may be found there. Some are of evident substance and character, and others may not be. This is evidenced by such clear clues as overly energetic dancing, overly elaborate dancing, and any other manner of dancing or success with women that I myself do not have. Anyone doing better than I must surely be employing unsavory, unethical techniques.

Tough As Nails (My Talent Pales)

There is something which has been on my mind for some time, and isn't it fortunate that the idea matured just when I was desperate for something to write about? Now, I had been part of a comedy sketch for church, and it so happened that we were preceded in the program by a dance number. We had little to do with them, but were around them quite a bit as each of our contingents did their own thing. Happily, circumstances permitted us some downtime, but the same cannot be said for the dancers. So it was that I was at liberty to admire the incredible form and work ethic they displayed.

I have my fine qualities, I am prepared to admit. I am fairly knowledgeable, think quickly and have come to decide that I have tolerable looks. I am at peace with the near certainty that I will never make a living on the strength of my body, and am in awe of such persons as these dancers. Watching them prepare in advance of the show, I was as impressed as can be merely by their preliminary stretching and limbering up. I couldn't help but notice the dramatic toll that dancing takes on the body, as they had bandages and wear in such abundance as one would expect of premier athletes.

Hazards Of The Dance Floor

My first recollection of a dance would be the one which we had way back in grade school. The sixth graders had one, and someone got the idea that we in lower grades would feel left out if we didn't have one as well. I don't know who among us younger students was itching for a dance, but I don't recall wanting anything but soda and chips. I would classify the dance as a failure, with the boys and girls staying on their respective sides of the dance floor for the duration of the event.

Such tentativeness is no longer a problem for me, but I remain cognizant of the dangers that lurk when I am rousted out of my torpor and compelled to dance. Rather than being dangerously free of dancers, the floors I see now are probably all too full of revelers. One must concoct a dance that requires little movement of the elbows and less of the feet. It is a great challenge to be seductive under such restraints, but such is how creativity is best fostered.

Outing

I had another successful social outing Thursday night. Previously, I was invited to attend a talent show by a cool woman who I'd met at a party my roommate threw. I went, and as promised, she did a great salsa dance.

I had to go from my home in North Hollywood to her school campus in Koreatown. That part went well, as I was able to make most of the trip via the subway. I had to work out where in the building I needed to go to, but that happened easily enough.

The entertainment included the aforementioned dancing as well as singing, rock music, poetry and rapping. All that was great, but something I didn't know about beforehand was the food. For whatever reason, it was not hot, but there was salad, macaroni salad, garlic bread, potato wedges and fried chicken. That was entirely welcome.

Saturday there will be a party to say farewell to someone else I met at a prior party. She heads off to serve humanity via peace corps thereafter. Ought to be fun, provided I work myself up to attend.