Carissa Van Den Berk Clark, �May It Come Quickly, Like a Shaft Sundering in the Dark�
I know I sound about six years behind the times and trends when I say this, but I wish I knew how to swing dance. It just looks so fun, all that twirling and intertwining.
I have a line in my book which I use in real life, about how I can�t and don�t dance.
�You know that pole that strippers use?� I say when asked. �I�ll be the pole.�
The one thing I can do, however, is dip. Apparently, a lot of people can�t do this properly but one girl who has won dance competitions said I had it down perfectly; the hands, the weight distribution, the spin out.
So last night I�m spinning records again, and for some reason, the place was packed. Last week, when we finished a beer, we�d just put the bottle down on the bar and the bartender would immediately fetch a new one. Last night, I had to wave and jump and beg with two hands clutched together to get a new beer.
And it still didn�t happen.
Being a dive bar, it�s not like we have a little DJ booth � we�re just pressed against the side wall, using a single turntable that�s so old, it has a 78 rpm setting. I�m getting records ready while trying to flog down a bartender, while working in an environment that forces me to keep my elbows pressed in.
My bag of records is on the floor. Most of the time I squat down to get at them, but occasionly I bend over. More than one of these times, my ass bumps against the girl that�s standing next to me.
The first time it happens, I apologize.
The second time, we both laugh about it.
The third time, she grabs and holds on.
After that, we were doing the bump. It was like tag-team wrestling, except we were high five-ing with our butts.
Anyway, she steps in to try and wave down beers for us. It doesn�t work. I put on a long NoMeansNo song and weave my way through the crowd to jockey for prime bar position. The bartender finally acknowledges our presence and puts drinks at the end for us, and I work my way back.
NoMeansNo ended by this point, and the guy I was working with had put on something more danceable. The crowd went with it. It got even harder to get past everyone. I finally reach the pool table and my butt partner grabs my arm and spins me around.
Oh, I know how to do this.
I grab her wrist and pull in slightly. She wraps into my arm and presses into my chest. I shift to the side and put one hand over her shoulder, the other wrapped around her waist. I push forward and she throws her head back, lifting one leg and kicking it out. This is gonna be the mother of all dips.
And I knocked the back of her skull into the corner of the jukebox.
Whoops.
I�m not saying anything about the book listed because A: it sucks ass, and B: I had to review it for Maximum RockNRoll. Is it worth keeping? Hell, no. In fact, I think I�m gonna burn it to make sure nobody else is unfortunate enough to have to read it. And I think I�m going to burn it page by page and dance around it like wild Injuns. No Amazon link, as this is self-published vanity fare. I�ll say this though: It�s anarchist theory, yet her book costs nearly twice as much as mine.
