Friday, 24 June 2016

Hippy Hippy Shakes.

There is a fair bit of this going around. I think I might have caught it. I sat next to this bloke in a meeting this morning, and he couldn't keep still.
I think thats when it happened, One minute I was sitting quietly listening, next minute my knees started shaking, I stood up and then I couldn't seem to stand on my own two feet. So I sat down again. But my hips just seemed to keep on gyrating.
The question is should your feet circle in the same direction, or in different directions?
I have always been the kind of guy who starts with left foot, so the Hokey Pokey is no good for me. I hate those dances where they tell you what to do all the time anyway.
"Gentlemen select your partners please for the progressive barn dance."
"No way chum, get fucked."
White people (like me) (unfortunately) always need to be told what to do. Lucky we got Rupert Murdoch for that. I wonder who the poor sick bastard is who is telling Rupert what to do? If you know this person can you suggest they tell Rupert that he has got enough money.
My favourite dance by the way is the dance with no name. In fact if this dance had a name it would not dare to speak it.
I was taught it by a guy who did not how to do it. But it did not matter because not only is it a dance with no name it is not a dance either. Anyone who seeks to dance the dance with no name names it.
The dance with no name is a dance of longing, infinite aching longing. You can only ever dream of the dance.
And that is what my hippy hippy shaking this morning was all about. Sometimes i feel the certainty of a joy so perfect that I can smell it. And my body starts to shake with anticipation. I never quite find this joy, but oh, the delicious aching sorrow of the unrequited longing

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