I've been busier than fuck but just read 50-year-old new dad Jerry Stahl's OG Dad #15 , so funny that I had to respond, in my own way, to this:
So I was dancing mostly alone but a little with Zoe and other 20-something floor tenants in the green light that, I wondered, perhaps made my hair a color other than grey, in the room that makes it impossible to know the time of day or night. I really got into it. I love to dance. And there were some hella good dancers to keep me interested - all shapes, sizes, colors, assorted known and unknown entities who, through some fashion, found Ian's studio with its nightclub-grade sound system.
To her eternal credit, the difficult-to-ruffle E routinely talks me back
from foaming, germaphobic paranoia to something like a reasonably
cautionary posture. Meaning, essentially, that instead of freaking out
when our Pompadoured 18 pounder puts the dog’s paw in her mouth, I
simply remove it. And try not to obsess on what fecal smorgasbord the
adorable, poop-sniffing Basenji has pranced through.
If he'd had kids 25 years ago like I did, his parental role would have shifted from poison control and helping with language aquisition to, for example, asking himself whether it's appropriate to dance at your kids' after-hours party. Then asking the kids.
Sunday I went next door to see what was happening. Why the bumping bass beat so early? It was around 2:00pm. I was on my way to the gym in my grungiest paint-covered stretchy pants. I popped my head into that dark room filled with people lounging and dancing. Ian was on the turntables. The air was, well, murky, so I brought an air purifier into that windowless after-afterhours shindig. A mom-ish touch that was very much appreciated. Then, since I was in my most comfortable clothes anyway, my grey hair tied up into a messy bun for the bike ride to the Y, I decided to dance my ass off to the pounding beat for a half hour. Warm up for my cardio workout on the elliptical machine? Of course I asked Zoe and Ian's permission first, and they gave it, still smiling and dancing though they clearly hadn't slept in quite some time. Youth!
Sunday I went next door to see what was happening. Why the bumping bass beat so early? It was around 2:00pm. I was on my way to the gym in my grungiest paint-covered stretchy pants. I popped my head into that dark room filled with people lounging and dancing. Ian was on the turntables. The air was, well, murky, so I brought an air purifier into that windowless after-afterhours shindig. A mom-ish touch that was very much appreciated. Then, since I was in my most comfortable clothes anyway, my grey hair tied up into a messy bun for the bike ride to the Y, I decided to dance my ass off to the pounding beat for a half hour. Warm up for my cardio workout on the elliptical machine? Of course I asked Zoe and Ian's permission first, and they gave it, still smiling and dancing though they clearly hadn't slept in quite some time. Youth!
A beautiful stranger says, "I'm right here." So I dance with him. He is an excellent dancer. Does he realize I am technically over twice the age of everyone in the room, literally old enough to be his mother? It doesn't seem to matter. Fun times. An excellent warm up for the cold ride to the Embarcadero Y.
Pic: Ian and Zoe after dancing all night in Berlin, July 2012.
Pic: Ian and Zoe after dancing all night in Berlin, July 2012.
