Dancing

Consciousness, so hot right now. It seems I can't open a newspaper, browse a listings guide, walk through my day without thinking about that gap between my brain and my skull, some soul space, where I become me. It's grinding against itself, sometimes parched and scratchy, sometimes wet and lubricated, swizzles round on an non-axis, and I'm not sure I'm awake, I'm me, I'm alive, I'm alive I am.

I did a hell of a lot of dancing this weekend. I had the most fun I had in a long time. I thoroughly enjoyed her rumours?, not really rumours, of me 'being a dancer'. I enjoyed my definition based on passion, rather than my contracted hourly rate. I got lost, watching some lovely gay boys watching me and some girls and most of the public all over him and his lasciviousness. A good contrast. The brushed voice of a wholesome woman in furs, rolled in and out of bed the same, she said, smacking a compliment on me with that amazing Wig-un accent. So real, I wish I was her.

A lot of dressing up. I'm concerned, in general, that I don't sit tight anywhere. I don't have a niche a place a style a crowd a language a decade a collective a real solid mass of existence. One minute it's six count, next I'm all northern, a restrained tea frame, a wild thing, and I'm all, I'm loving all without a lie. But what am I? What Am I says the Science Museum poster. See, it's everywhere. Neurons, pathways, excuses and explanations, it's like we're boiling down our problems to a cool point. She said she lost her mysticism. I was kind of saddened. She'd done that cool thing, separated the body and soul.

I told him how I thought it was dangerous that one can just get lost in the dancing. I remembered that period when it took three classes a week just to blur my present, a survival style. Then it came to the time when I was sitting around the dance floor aching to read my book, get into my head, having to forget myself at the wrong time was incredibly frustrating. But it helped me change. It's happening again now. My reality is switched around me and I'm looking for new markers. But this time round, it's fun. I'm wrapping my lost consciousness up in hops and spins.