First a story:
One of the most interesting things that happened on my trip to So Cal to see my friend Mew, happened while we were in Huntington Beach. We (consisting of Mew and her boyfriend Eric, Amber, Amanda, and myself) went to Huntington Beach to celebrate Mew’s birthday. So we start at this one bar and we are having a good time you know throwing undergarments to the street below, trying to get so called strippers to dance for us, and of course drinking. So this band comes on around 11pm and starts to jam; some K.C. & the Sunshine cover band, if I remember correctly. So Mew, Eric, and Amanda head to the dance floor while Amber and I talk to Andy, our undergarment savoir from Canada. Personally, I hate most 70’s music, so I wasn’t surprised that there was no one dancing except my friends. It was weird some of the glances that they got, but I just logged it under us being slightly drunk.
Later we meandered over to another bar across the street to get Mew more birthday liquor. Besides the awful blue martini drink that the bar served (Must remember not to order drinks by color), the place was lightly populated with two other groups besides ours. Eric was entranced with the surfing video on the big screen, while the rest of us were listening to the DJ spinning. It has been awhile since I have heard a good DJ spinning (I’ve had to deal with those people playing with records in front of the Student Center for peace rallies.) and I was getting into the music and ready to start dancing when the bartender shouted last call. “WHAT?!?!” I shouted. “It’s only fuckin’ midnight! I still have two more hours to drink!” Obviously, I was already a little drunk due to not eating anything since San Francisco. And my drunken outcry had no effect on the bartender, who was closing up things.
So Amanda, Amber, and I went over to talk to the DJ to see if there was any dance clubs in the area. It was while we were talking to the DJ (who unfortunately, I’ve forgotten his name.) that we learnt of a law ripped out of the pages of an 80’s movie; the Kevin Bacon classic, Footloose, to be exact. Yes folks, it is illegal to dance in the city of Huntington Beach. The DJ proceeded to tell us how any club or bar could be shut down if a police office caught people dancing. Apparently if the cops are coming, the bouncer has a special light that he turns on to let everyone know that the cops are coming up the stairs. It was at this point that I told Mew that I am NEVER moving down south. We left the brewery and Amber and I could not get over the fact that it was illegal to dance. So began the rally cry of that weekend “FREE DANCE MOVEMENT”. **sigh** the joys of drunken rally cries. The entire time we were down there, anytime we drove pass someone, we would shout out to them, “FREE DANCE MOVEMENT”, “KEEP THE MUSIC ALIVE”, and other pro dance slogans to the oppressed peoples of Huntington Beach and Costa Mesa.
It was in jest and silliness that we started our war against regimes opposed to dance. However, the truth is much scarier. I came back to San Francisco and told my story to Amber (different Amber; this one I work with) and she had already known about it. She also knew of several towns in Washington that had laws against dancing. And just today reading The Guardian, the cover story is about dance clubs and other music venues being closed down. WTF is going on? A cornerstone of the city is the presence of its arts, be it dance, music, painting, scripture, written, or spoken word.
I don’t know. All I know is that I love music, and I love dance music. I love the beat, the freedom that I feel when I hear it. I know the beat is repetitive, and to some it sound all the same. But when I hear a beat, I can just let myself go and for a moment in time, just get away from everything and everyone. My most spiritual moment was a rave that I went to years ago. I wasn’t on X-tasy or anything at all; this was just a natural high from the music and the vibe from the people around me. I just felt it was a spiritual presence that I have only true felt a few in my life. I don’t know. Some people look to God; some people look to alcohol or drugs; I look to the music to find that thing that I’m looking for.
Not all music is good; for me anyway. My problem is that I have fallen into listening to cheesy pop love songs since the break-up and I am having a hard time getting out of it. Luckily, I don’t have any Dave Matthews to torture myself with. Besides, I have Mike for that 😛 But not all of it is bad either. Personal secret time: I listen to music and make my own videos to go with the song. I do this with all kinds of music, and I have several written some where with my personal stuff in Washington. However, since I have been listening to mostly light adult, the videos have been cheesy. Lots of hair tossing and forlorn looks and stuff; good for a Celine Dion video but definitely not good for me or my self esteem. Still, I do have one that I’ve been working on turning into a short story of some kind. Just a matter of getting the images in my head into words in a document.
O.K. This post has just wandered into nothingness from the very beginning. Still, it’s a start I guess. Work on being focus on a topic of some kind.
Current mood: discontent
Current music: Christina Aguilera – Somebody, Somebody
First a story: