Friday, November 12, 2010

Dancin Like a Rock Star

Not sure what got into me  last night.  After 8 solid hours of ladder sprints as I scurried to finish the eaves under the new roof I laid down recently, I should have spent the evening kicked back on the sofa with a cool drink, my feet up, and the remote within arm's reach.   Instead, after wolfing down some pizza, I headed to the basement and puttered.  Cleaned stuff, organized stuff, found lost stuff,  and just when I thought I was out of stuff to do, I found myself playing with stuff.

The radio was tuned to WHEB - 100.3 on the FM dial.  Classic Rock, current Rock, and future Rock.  At some point I realized I was dancin around the basement with a broom and ripping some real badass air guitar.  I was nailing those power chords just like Pete, picking riffs like Jimy, and suddenly I stopped.  "Just what the Hell was I doing"?  Jumping and kickin up my heels like I did when I was 23? 

Not much more comical than some old white guy sportin a full white beard trying to boogie to Green Day or The Doors.  I wasn't a teen anymore or even close.  Old men didn't jump around with reckless abandon.  Old Men were too cool to gyrate and shimmy in unseemly un-adult like ways.  Rock was the Devil's music.  Rock music was for the young punks. 

Old men had basically two choices.  They were either supposed be reserved and keep their cool, conducting themselves with the expected behaviour of grown adults.  Or they were  sedentarily obnoxious, fartin, scratchin, and leering at all the young girls.  Anything else was well, comedy.  Or just plain sad.  Take your pick. 

I tried to to get serious again.  Attempted to become industrious and productive.

Then Zep's "When the Leevee Breaks" kicked into gear.......Uh Oh..... I smiled.  My right foot began twitching.  Soon my left foot began to tremble, and before you could say AC/DC, I was bouncin off walls again.  'Bout wore the strings out on that broom I'll tell ya.

Around 11:30 PM or so I ran out of steam, I had pissed all my vinegar away.  Spent and toasted, I gimped upstairs and tried to kick back.  My body was crying "No Mas",  but my brain was still red-lining.  Turning over at 100 plus, I just could could not rest. 

So I sat down at my desk, punched up the 'puter, found "Detour Blues" , an oline all Blues radio station.  I then rocked and wrote the night away into the wee hours of the next day.

I can see why some Baptists consider dancin a sign an evil spirit has its hooks in you.  Definitely wicked immoral Devil's play.  Having this much fun has to be a sin.

Later, Gator.................Oh Yeah..................


BBC said...

I think that trying to dance like a rock star would hurt me.

BBC said...

Besides, I don't have the ass for it anymore.

The Blog Fodder said...

Baptists don't allow sex standing up as it may lead to dancing.

Kulkuri said...

"Or they were sedentarily obnoxious, fartin, scratchin, and leering at all the young girls."

My main ambition in life has been to become a "Dirty Old Man", I think I'm there.

muddleglum said...

Keep dancin'. All it shows is that you've been climbing that ladder like a young man. Why not climb the rest of the way?

"Old men ... were ... supposed be reserved and keep their cool, conducting themselves with the expected behaviour of grown adults."
"Definitely wicked immoral Devil's play."

Same diff. I learned long ago that I was basically the same person as I was in my late teens except for a side dish of experience that came a few years later and the facial window dressing. But I'm not allowed to act like it by our society. Bah!

Randal Graves said...

I hope you didn't slice your hand open doing a Townshend windmill.

Anonymous said...

that sound good

El Cerdo Ignatius said...

I always knew you rocked, Crum.