"Do you dance?" Kerry had awakened from his stupor and finally put words in his mouth, and since my original intent was to shake my tail feather tonight, I was more than ready to put on my dancing shoes....I had, after all, taken a little bit of Cher with me.
"Hell yeah, I dance," I said emphatically before we'd even sat down, but rather than rudely leaving Mother and the rest of the girls, I excused myself and Kerry. "Mother, we're going to dance. Save our seats."
"You're going to leave me here with her?" Mother asked shocked....and perturbed as she pointed at Hester -- and she didn't even try to whisper. I guess she figured the motorcycle helmet blocked Hester's hearing, but I knew it didn't. Hester turned and gave her a scowl, but continued keeping time with the music by bopping her helmeted head back and forth, so Mother's opinion obviously didn't phase her. At first, I was just going to let Mother's question go unanswered, but images of the Central avenue situation and Mother's attack on Bart merged into one in my mind and evoked the same feeling....................
"Oh, yeah," I said with an evil smile and walked away with Kerry hand-in-hand. I grinned inwardly, too and told myself that things were working out just perfectly. I could put any rumors about my relationship with Mother to rest, and I could tell Mother without words that she and I were simply friends. No more and no less because I did value our friendship even though it was topsy turvy; I couldn't help but love to be in her presence, but I never wanted to be in her bed; I just needed to clear up any fog that might have settled in the valleys of her fantasies, and I thought that I could clarify the matter through Kerry.
As I walked away, I turned to see Mother rearranging the chairs AND the "ene" cousins. Mother, of course, perched herself in the middle of the table, to the left of Hester, and the girls were placed on Hester's right. The empty chairs that remained would be mine, Kerry's, Cora's and anyone else who decided to join us. Mother controlled every detail, as usual, but she couldn't get Hester to budge, but I saw her beating Hester's shoulder with her purse, but Hester remained unmoved and obstinate like those statues on Easter Island had for centuries. From my vantage point on the dance floor, Hester had an astronaut quality in that silvery helmet, and I somehow knew that in her mind she was sailing to world's unknown fueled by pure grain alcohol and hops, but I deciphered she'd heard enough of Mother because she had lowered the face shield. I knew it's original intention was to keep bugs out of a motorcyclists teeth and eyes, but I wasn't so sure that it would stand much of a chance against Mother. Only time would tell, but for now, Hester was holding her own, and Mother relented with purse-ing the 50 something, but still attractive and leanly built, matron. Ms. Superior aimed her attention on the dance floor ( and on Kerry and me in particular), but she still scanned the bar as if she was looking for something -- or someone -- just like she'd done in the front bar most of the night, but finally gave up and plopped her purse in front of her and propped her chin between both hands that she'd elevated with her elbows and looked entirely bored................. The Dean sisters glanced around the room in amazement at all the gay amusement, and Boma Jean snacked on one of Hester's boiled eggs...( It figured, I thought to myself.)
Now, I have always subscribed to the belief that you can tell how a man performs in the sack by the way he dances, so I was interested to watch Kerry's moves to see if I needed to waste any more time with him. My heart might have belonged to Bart, but that didn't mean my entire body was his .......................I am a man, by the way, and sex ranks right up toward the top of the list with gay men just like it does with straight men -- maybe even moreso which can account for the rapid spread of AIDS. But, I was one to pretend that I was above such matters. I wasn't. The phrase "hard to get " still has the word HARD in it....and hard might have numerous connotations but hard was still pliable -- not impossible.
So Kerry and I entered that melodic, gay fantasy-land and walked onto the dance floor -- which should've been golden instead of jointed square pieces of wood because it is just a little bit of heaven on Earth for gay men. Thoughts ended; Time stood still; troubles disappeared..... and only the beat and we existed......(( Haven't you ever noticed that dance floors are other-worldly with their fog machines and ever-changing light shows?))................. I could feel the bass vibrate through my body, and my body moved without my mind's instruction. I began to gyrate like the other gays on the dance floor -- in my own style -- and much better than they danced ( if you ask me, but others might disagree). A lot of these people just couldn't dance, and I had to wonder where they got their gay union card. (( I really should clarify that there is no such organization for those people who believe that there really is a secret Gay Agenda. There isn't. We were born this way, and we simply want the same freedoms that are guaranteed to all the citizens of the United States through our secular Constitution. ))................And, Kerry couldn't dance worth a damn. Rhythm was only something he'd read about in books, and witnessed for himself in black people, but he couldn't find the beat with both hands and both feet. This southerner was in desperate need of some African genes, but he was a total white boy when it came to dancing.........................
Any bedroom hopes I might have had for him wilted right there. I knew if he couldn't find the beat, that he might as well just beat off..........cuz it just wasn't going to happen... Besides, he was no competition for Bart.............BUT...Bart wasn't here and I didn't know where he was or when or IF I'd see him again, so I'd make the most of the situation and hoped that Kerry would calm down a little. He jumped around like a frog on EX in search of the elusive beat in the same fashion that the aforementioned amphibious being hunted for flies, but no one seemed to notice his failure in the beat search, so I wasn't too embarrassed to be dancing with him. I kept telling myself that I should let him serve his purpose and make my point, but it wasn't easy. I may have loved to dance, but I didn't like dancing with someone who made a fool of himself on the dance floor........His attempt at disco was so disturbing that I would have preferred to do a solo. He was as awkward as an Ostrich on a high wire and as out of place on the dance floor as a booger at a debutane ball. The poor thing was so bad that I couldn't even feel sorry for him, and the idea that he was an undercover straight guy did cross my mind. They usually can't dance either............. I really just wanted to say my ankle hurt and sit down -- and it did a little -- but I grinned and bore it to make my point....Then, I saw ShayShay....
She was barely moving in the center of the dance floor -- more like swaying hip-to-hip and looking up at the mirror ball -- like she was in a trance or experiencing something spiritual. She looked simply ravishing -- angelic and peaceful, -- a breeze flowed from the air conditioner vent above us, and gently blew her sheer blouse and stray strands from her coiffed up-do. Miniature rectangular beams of light from the mirror ball wafted across her face and body, and she appeared psychedelically enhanced and immersed. It was truly a beautiful picture reminiscent of a Massengil commercial, but she didn't notice me at all -- or anyone else, for that matter................... and she wasn't two steps away from me....................... I kept dancing and spinning, and I wasn't really paying all that much attention to her. I do that on the dance floor. I dance and look all around me, then zoom-in on a person or two, and then switch my focus and find someone else upon whom to look for a few moments and then change my perspective again. It is rather like spin-the-bottle in a music video format ( with narration in my mind ), and in an instant, I knew what was occurring in the worlds my eyes had invaded. It was a way to pass the time, and it got my mind off Kerry's display.
On the edge of the dance floor, I saw a lesbian couple kissing under a butch's Razorback ball cap, and they looked so sweet and in love, but I knew they'd just met a few minutes prior when I glanced behind them and another Mulletted butch stood glaring at both of them with her arms folded across her Sooner's sweatshirt. I knew what lay ahead without waiting to watch. ( and you do too...They'd been temporarily enchanted with the music and had forgotten they were being watched, and I assumed Mullet was going to drag her fem away from the Razorback in just a few seconds)...so I spun again because lesbian drama is the worst, and I didn't want to watch the battle for hearts and attentions that would inevitably ensue -- and this time, I focused in on a wriggling red chiffon cocktail dress that clothed a tall, brunette queen -- a replica of Jessica Rabbit with the same monochromatic eyeshadow (purple...yeah, PURPLE with a red dress) applied like a mud facial in her ocular area. She had the same air about her as the tragic cartoon who wasn't bad, but was drawn that way --, and she was bent slightly over whispering closely --- AND too closely I judged when I saw him pull away -- in an Asian cowboy's ear and flirting with her eyes as she stirred her cocktail with a swizzle when he turned to look at her..I knew she hoped to have him later............. but she wouldn't. His eyes didn't sparkle at her, and if anything they had the look of "Okay, I've been nice long enough...will you please walk away?"............ Ms. Rabbit didn't sense his disinterest -- or she thought she could persuade him with persistance because she stealthily rubbed her hips against his Wrangler'ed manhood with every beat and continued stirring her drink......I smiled at the cowboy and gave him a look of "I know how you feel, buddy" as I glanced at Kerry, and Jessica Rabbit gave me a dirty look...Hmmm, I thought as I re-spun, no tip for her during the show ........Next, my eyes landed on a couple of fancies. Both of the 30-something boys dressed like they owned a magical chocolate factory, with matching "Just for Men" hair color and Spikey, jelled cuts, and polka dotted over-sized bow ties on slinky, Rayon, black, button-downs, and shiny white square-toe'd dress shoes.....But no matter how narcisistically inclined they appeared, they were bored with each other, and the relationship would end soon because the romance they had with themelves had ended long ago. Their eyes scanned the bar and hoped to find someone staring at them as individuals instead of attention-seeking, overly-ripe, carnival attractions, and when they found no anxious on-lookers, their eyes returned to their make-do twin husband. They pined for someone else, but would have settled for a menage-a-trois.. The twin husbands pretended to be ecstatically happy to the ignorant world, but darkness hid behind their irises and the souls their eyes mirrored were empty and yearning to be set free to return to themselves again....Me was better than we, they'd learned, but they held on to each other fearfully by a few candy-striped threads -- to just make it through the holidays with its turkey, egg nog, family...and of course, the presents under the tree.............They resolved reluctantly that 33 was on the other side of the hill in the gay world, and each feared that he'd be stuck with the other...........but clung to a dream of being set free...one day....The idea of being single was not only anathema, but it was also terrifying to both of them.
It was an entire universe made of several worlds on this tiny Parqued dance floor/ stage, and I could have spent all night interpreting the scenes with my gift of discernment that my Mama said was a gift of the Holy Spirit. My Aunt Denice could bend spoons with her mind; My great-granny Shipman could read tea leaves, My cousin Donna Irene had a healing steel, and Mama said I was granted a gift of knowing. I thought she was just a bit dramatic about it since I attributed it to observation, intuition and imagination, and everyone should see what I saw.....but she said it was God given. Mama said when I was a little kid that I used to walk up to grown men and tell them their secrets which included things like embezzling, thievery and cheating on their wives..and yeah, I told my Mama she was having an affair before she was ready to tell me, and I told my sister she was pregnant before she peed on the stick...but I didn't really see anything special about it....Didn't everyone just KNOW? Wasn't I the one who was in the wrong by always saying what I thought, but knew? AND, when you hit the nail on the head, people don't really like it too much, but I never learned to keep my mouth shut..It just came tumbling out and the cards fell where they went.
Then my focus landed on Shay Shay again. This time, she had something raised to her nostril and she was inhaling it............which struck me as odd and out of the ordinary, so I maintained my focus on her. She inhaled for a awhile with her eyes shut...the wind still blew on her and the globe still turned above her showering her with a constant barrage of light, but she was motionless....then she opened her eyes and stared at me. Shay Shay blinked a couple of times as if her eye lids could clear her muddled mind, and recognition finally crossed her face, a couple of minutes late.
"You're blue," she said ethereally and then dropped the bottle on the floor where its contents were spilled and smeared by a dozen dancing feet. Even though I was totally immersed in Snap's "Rhythm is a Dancer", I had the feeling that Shay Shay's soul was being overly enhanced. I didn't have to ask what she meant when I looked at what lay at her feet. MeltzAway had melted away any worries that she might have had about her rent in those brief moments, and now it lay broken, spilled...and trodden into the wooden floor. I didn't say a word. I just told myself that I should have known better than to give a chemical in a small brown bottle to a prostitute...and wondered where my "knowing" had been...Right then, in that instant, a bad feeling about ShayShay chilled over me, but I brushed if off..And, no, it wasn't the air conditioner draft because I looked up at it, and it was still angled at Shay Shay....It was a definite warning of something to come....and again, I ignored another omen just like I'd ignored the beanie-weanies and the boiled egg...I didn't recognize this broken brown bottle for what it truly was............and Shay Shay....poor, lost Shay Shay didn't have a clue.....
For an instant, I contemplated how Mitzi was going to remove her wig.............but I'd worry about that later. The Goose made me not care, and I was enjoying the weightlessness of the dance even if I didn't particularly like the moves of my dance partner...............I'd care later.
"Hell yeah, I dance," I said emphatically before we'd even sat down, but rather than rudely leaving Mother and the rest of the girls, I excused myself and Kerry. "Mother, we're going to dance. Save our seats."
"You're going to leave me here with her?" Mother asked shocked....and perturbed as she pointed at Hester -- and she didn't even try to whisper. I guess she figured the motorcycle helmet blocked Hester's hearing, but I knew it didn't. Hester turned and gave her a scowl, but continued keeping time with the music by bopping her helmeted head back and forth, so Mother's opinion obviously didn't phase her. At first, I was just going to let Mother's question go unanswered, but images of the Central avenue situation and Mother's attack on Bart merged into one in my mind and evoked the same feeling....................
"Oh, yeah," I said with an evil smile and walked away with Kerry hand-in-hand. I grinned inwardly, too and told myself that things were working out just perfectly. I could put any rumors about my relationship with Mother to rest, and I could tell Mother without words that she and I were simply friends. No more and no less because I did value our friendship even though it was topsy turvy; I couldn't help but love to be in her presence, but I never wanted to be in her bed; I just needed to clear up any fog that might have settled in the valleys of her fantasies, and I thought that I could clarify the matter through Kerry.
As I walked away, I turned to see Mother rearranging the chairs AND the "ene" cousins. Mother, of course, perched herself in the middle of the table, to the left of Hester, and the girls were placed on Hester's right. The empty chairs that remained would be mine, Kerry's, Cora's and anyone else who decided to join us. Mother controlled every detail, as usual, but she couldn't get Hester to budge, but I saw her beating Hester's shoulder with her purse, but Hester remained unmoved and obstinate like those statues on Easter Island had for centuries. From my vantage point on the dance floor, Hester had an astronaut quality in that silvery helmet, and I somehow knew that in her mind she was sailing to world's unknown fueled by pure grain alcohol and hops, but I deciphered she'd heard enough of Mother because she had lowered the face shield. I knew it's original intention was to keep bugs out of a motorcyclists teeth and eyes, but I wasn't so sure that it would stand much of a chance against Mother. Only time would tell, but for now, Hester was holding her own, and Mother relented with purse-ing the 50 something, but still attractive and leanly built, matron. Ms. Superior aimed her attention on the dance floor ( and on Kerry and me in particular), but she still scanned the bar as if she was looking for something -- or someone -- just like she'd done in the front bar most of the night, but finally gave up and plopped her purse in front of her and propped her chin between both hands that she'd elevated with her elbows and looked entirely bored................. The Dean sisters glanced around the room in amazement at all the gay amusement, and Boma Jean snacked on one of Hester's boiled eggs...( It figured, I thought to myself.)
Now, I have always subscribed to the belief that you can tell how a man performs in the sack by the way he dances, so I was interested to watch Kerry's moves to see if I needed to waste any more time with him. My heart might have belonged to Bart, but that didn't mean my entire body was his .......................I am a man, by the way, and sex ranks right up toward the top of the list with gay men just like it does with straight men -- maybe even moreso which can account for the rapid spread of AIDS. But, I was one to pretend that I was above such matters. I wasn't. The phrase "hard to get " still has the word HARD in it....and hard might have numerous connotations but hard was still pliable -- not impossible.
So Kerry and I entered that melodic, gay fantasy-land and walked onto the dance floor -- which should've been golden instead of jointed square pieces of wood because it is just a little bit of heaven on Earth for gay men. Thoughts ended; Time stood still; troubles disappeared..... and only the beat and we existed......(( Haven't you ever noticed that dance floors are other-worldly with their fog machines and ever-changing light shows?))................. I could feel the bass vibrate through my body, and my body moved without my mind's instruction. I began to gyrate like the other gays on the dance floor -- in my own style -- and much better than they danced ( if you ask me, but others might disagree). A lot of these people just couldn't dance, and I had to wonder where they got their gay union card. (( I really should clarify that there is no such organization for those people who believe that there really is a secret Gay Agenda. There isn't. We were born this way, and we simply want the same freedoms that are guaranteed to all the citizens of the United States through our secular Constitution. ))................And, Kerry couldn't dance worth a damn. Rhythm was only something he'd read about in books, and witnessed for himself in black people, but he couldn't find the beat with both hands and both feet. This southerner was in desperate need of some African genes, but he was a total white boy when it came to dancing.........................
Any bedroom hopes I might have had for him wilted right there. I knew if he couldn't find the beat, that he might as well just beat off..........cuz it just wasn't going to happen... Besides, he was no competition for Bart.............BUT...Bart wasn't here and I didn't know where he was or when or IF I'd see him again, so I'd make the most of the situation and hoped that Kerry would calm down a little. He jumped around like a frog on EX in search of the elusive beat in the same fashion that the aforementioned amphibious being hunted for flies, but no one seemed to notice his failure in the beat search, so I wasn't too embarrassed to be dancing with him. I kept telling myself that I should let him serve his purpose and make my point, but it wasn't easy. I may have loved to dance, but I didn't like dancing with someone who made a fool of himself on the dance floor........His attempt at disco was so disturbing that I would have preferred to do a solo. He was as awkward as an Ostrich on a high wire and as out of place on the dance floor as a booger at a debutane ball. The poor thing was so bad that I couldn't even feel sorry for him, and the idea that he was an undercover straight guy did cross my mind. They usually can't dance either............. I really just wanted to say my ankle hurt and sit down -- and it did a little -- but I grinned and bore it to make my point....Then, I saw ShayShay....
She was barely moving in the center of the dance floor -- more like swaying hip-to-hip and looking up at the mirror ball -- like she was in a trance or experiencing something spiritual. She looked simply ravishing -- angelic and peaceful, -- a breeze flowed from the air conditioner vent above us, and gently blew her sheer blouse and stray strands from her coiffed up-do. Miniature rectangular beams of light from the mirror ball wafted across her face and body, and she appeared psychedelically enhanced and immersed. It was truly a beautiful picture reminiscent of a Massengil commercial, but she didn't notice me at all -- or anyone else, for that matter................... and she wasn't two steps away from me....................... I kept dancing and spinning, and I wasn't really paying all that much attention to her. I do that on the dance floor. I dance and look all around me, then zoom-in on a person or two, and then switch my focus and find someone else upon whom to look for a few moments and then change my perspective again. It is rather like spin-the-bottle in a music video format ( with narration in my mind ), and in an instant, I knew what was occurring in the worlds my eyes had invaded. It was a way to pass the time, and it got my mind off Kerry's display.
On the edge of the dance floor, I saw a lesbian couple kissing under a butch's Razorback ball cap, and they looked so sweet and in love, but I knew they'd just met a few minutes prior when I glanced behind them and another Mulletted butch stood glaring at both of them with her arms folded across her Sooner's sweatshirt. I knew what lay ahead without waiting to watch. ( and you do too...They'd been temporarily enchanted with the music and had forgotten they were being watched, and I assumed Mullet was going to drag her fem away from the Razorback in just a few seconds)...so I spun again because lesbian drama is the worst, and I didn't want to watch the battle for hearts and attentions that would inevitably ensue -- and this time, I focused in on a wriggling red chiffon cocktail dress that clothed a tall, brunette queen -- a replica of Jessica Rabbit with the same monochromatic eyeshadow (purple...yeah, PURPLE with a red dress) applied like a mud facial in her ocular area. She had the same air about her as the tragic cartoon who wasn't bad, but was drawn that way --, and she was bent slightly over whispering closely --- AND too closely I judged when I saw him pull away -- in an Asian cowboy's ear and flirting with her eyes as she stirred her cocktail with a swizzle when he turned to look at her..I knew she hoped to have him later............. but she wouldn't. His eyes didn't sparkle at her, and if anything they had the look of "Okay, I've been nice long enough...will you please walk away?"............ Ms. Rabbit didn't sense his disinterest -- or she thought she could persuade him with persistance because she stealthily rubbed her hips against his Wrangler'ed manhood with every beat and continued stirring her drink......I smiled at the cowboy and gave him a look of "I know how you feel, buddy" as I glanced at Kerry, and Jessica Rabbit gave me a dirty look...Hmmm, I thought as I re-spun, no tip for her during the show ........Next, my eyes landed on a couple of fancies. Both of the 30-something boys dressed like they owned a magical chocolate factory, with matching "Just for Men" hair color and Spikey, jelled cuts, and polka dotted over-sized bow ties on slinky, Rayon, black, button-downs, and shiny white square-toe'd dress shoes.....But no matter how narcisistically inclined they appeared, they were bored with each other, and the relationship would end soon because the romance they had with themelves had ended long ago. Their eyes scanned the bar and hoped to find someone staring at them as individuals instead of attention-seeking, overly-ripe, carnival attractions, and when they found no anxious on-lookers, their eyes returned to their make-do twin husband. They pined for someone else, but would have settled for a menage-a-trois.. The twin husbands pretended to be ecstatically happy to the ignorant world, but darkness hid behind their irises and the souls their eyes mirrored were empty and yearning to be set free to return to themselves again....Me was better than we, they'd learned, but they held on to each other fearfully by a few candy-striped threads -- to just make it through the holidays with its turkey, egg nog, family...and of course, the presents under the tree.............They resolved reluctantly that 33 was on the other side of the hill in the gay world, and each feared that he'd be stuck with the other...........but clung to a dream of being set free...one day....The idea of being single was not only anathema, but it was also terrifying to both of them.
It was an entire universe made of several worlds on this tiny Parqued dance floor/ stage, and I could have spent all night interpreting the scenes with my gift of discernment that my Mama said was a gift of the Holy Spirit. My Aunt Denice could bend spoons with her mind; My great-granny Shipman could read tea leaves, My cousin Donna Irene had a healing steel, and Mama said I was granted a gift of knowing. I thought she was just a bit dramatic about it since I attributed it to observation, intuition and imagination, and everyone should see what I saw.....but she said it was God given. Mama said when I was a little kid that I used to walk up to grown men and tell them their secrets which included things like embezzling, thievery and cheating on their wives..and yeah, I told my Mama she was having an affair before she was ready to tell me, and I told my sister she was pregnant before she peed on the stick...but I didn't really see anything special about it....Didn't everyone just KNOW? Wasn't I the one who was in the wrong by always saying what I thought, but knew? AND, when you hit the nail on the head, people don't really like it too much, but I never learned to keep my mouth shut..It just came tumbling out and the cards fell where they went.
Then my focus landed on Shay Shay again. This time, she had something raised to her nostril and she was inhaling it............which struck me as odd and out of the ordinary, so I maintained my focus on her. She inhaled for a awhile with her eyes shut...the wind still blew on her and the globe still turned above her showering her with a constant barrage of light, but she was motionless....then she opened her eyes and stared at me. Shay Shay blinked a couple of times as if her eye lids could clear her muddled mind, and recognition finally crossed her face, a couple of minutes late.
"You're blue," she said ethereally and then dropped the bottle on the floor where its contents were spilled and smeared by a dozen dancing feet. Even though I was totally immersed in Snap's "Rhythm is a Dancer", I had the feeling that Shay Shay's soul was being overly enhanced. I didn't have to ask what she meant when I looked at what lay at her feet. MeltzAway had melted away any worries that she might have had about her rent in those brief moments, and now it lay broken, spilled...and trodden into the wooden floor. I didn't say a word. I just told myself that I should have known better than to give a chemical in a small brown bottle to a prostitute...and wondered where my "knowing" had been...Right then, in that instant, a bad feeling about ShayShay chilled over me, but I brushed if off..And, no, it wasn't the air conditioner draft because I looked up at it, and it was still angled at Shay Shay....It was a definite warning of something to come....and again, I ignored another omen just like I'd ignored the beanie-weanies and the boiled egg...I didn't recognize this broken brown bottle for what it truly was............and Shay Shay....poor, lost Shay Shay didn't have a clue.....
For an instant, I contemplated how Mitzi was going to remove her wig.............but I'd worry about that later. The Goose made me not care, and I was enjoying the weightlessness of the dance even if I didn't particularly like the moves of my dance partner...............I'd care later.
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