Sunday, March 17, 2013

Dancing With Myself

This is pretty much a more public, more awesome version of what I do in the kitchen--my roommate is generally the only witness.  The best is from about 0:56 to 1:04.

Dance is pure expression: there are no words to limit to one interpretation or cause self-consciousness because emotions can only be inferred.  Dance can invoke joy, self-mocking, yearning, frustration.  And if you make it interesting and musical enough, people will watch and enjoy--it transcends the boredom created by talking about oneself.  An art form, for sure, one which I do poorly, but I revel in regardless.

And music--I feel like I should sing it here!--music has a primal power that defies explanation.  I'll try a little, but I know I'll come up woefully short.  When I listen to the best music, if it's joyful, I experience my deepest joy.  That sounds wrong, as if my joy in being human and love and relationships is outdone by a sensual experience.  But great music makes me experience all that love and pain in heightened form; so listening to great dance music is incredibly visceral--I don't have to think, and it may be the only time I really get out of my head and let myself just feel.  And it feels wonderful.

And here's the link to the Billy Idol song of the title, just because I always forget how great it is.

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