errantember

Someone just took my picture for Austin360.com while I was dancing at Elysium. I'm not quite vain enough to continually watch the site for it, so if anyone catches is, please let me know.

If you aren't black, and you wear any kind of faux animal skin, you need to be aware that the Fashion Police are tracking your every move, hovering above you in a wasp-like Minority Report transport, just *waiting* to swarm out of the darkness and remove you from a public you are so clearly endangering. I'm not saying it's impossible to get away with it, but you have to *earn* it. And until you do, the rest of are not responsible for the consequences to you of taking whatever action we feel is necessary to protect ourselves.

There was one such person at Elysium on Sunday night, and I have to admit that when I first saw this individual, the arrogant, propriety part of me that considers that particular rectangle of long-leaf pine to be *my* dance floor was very close to taking Extreme Measures. I don't think I was alone. But, despite The Darkness, the better part of me was able to restrain the demon *just* long enough to allow for the *small* possibility that this person had what it took.

It took a few songs. It was *not* an easy sell. However, in the end, she did.

Still, she plays a dangerous game.




A game Kung-Fu Miss Lou once played *so* well.

So I had two major revelations tonight while dancing. The first is that the worldwide Gothic community is collectively a bunch of assholes for not making it more clear that dancing in huge leather boots is a total riot. Come ON people! For years footwear has been the major Fashion Failing(tm) of mine, I've generally worn very conservative, non-sexy penny-loafer type dance shoes because at least they were black, they fit, and they were great to dance in. Finding decent boots in my size is difficult, especially if you're as cheap as I am, but tonight all that changed! I found a decent set of size 12 1/2W Doc Martin knock-offs at Thrift Town for $25. They even had cushioned insoles already installed. I though they would be clunky and awkward, but BOY WAS I WRONG! They are definitely a little harder to lift and snap around, but my overall nimbleness increased substantially because of the lower center of gravity and the wider moment of inertia. This is especially true because I'm so into spins. There were times tonight I didn't stop spinning for two, maybe three songs. Hot diggity DAMN! By the time the night was over I was dancing with every sexual preference on earth, my lack of skilz dancing with other people notwithstanding. In a rare moment of my mouth getting me in trouble WITHOUT being open, I accidentally chin-butted one person. She stopped dancing with me immediately.
This brings me to the second revelation. Like many men, I've often been frustrated by the fact that many women seem turned off by direct come-ons. It's not that I'm not capable of more subtlety, in fact I generally move fairly slowly, but there are times when the whole mating dance thing is

We'll stop here for a moment to note that while the Boots are little godletts on the dance floor, they are NOT easy to remove. They need some kind of special name anyway.

Moving on...

...simply too complex, subtle, and generally goal-preventing. However, tonight, somewhere amidst all the posing, leaping, and crawling around on the floor, it came to me that the thing *I* didn't like about a lot of male come-ons is not necessarily because they're fast, or direct, or even that I'm not interested, it's that they're DRUNK and ARTLESS. There's just no beauty there. No intrigue. No bidirectional communication. Add to this either false or no confidence, and you have a fairly unconditionally lo(HOO-HOO-HOOser)sing proposition. Perhaps the ladies in the crowd can confirm or deny I'm on the right track here.

So my tip to men is, fast might be ok, but you have to be sober enough to detect the edge of the envelope you're pushing, graceful enough to be interesting, and confident enough for it not to seem like your at a fucking high school prom.

Ok. I'm done being gay now.

It's time for bed.