lord of the dance.
i'm not making this up. thank you dave barry. still.
how is it that shit piles up to hit the wildly whirling fan everytime the occupation finds a reprieve? ain't the truth of the world that it's always better on holidays, so much better on holidays; that's why we only work when we need the money? but the truth about the world is that crime does pay. the guns n' roses offspring is strokes-ed. i think no one will know the first, soe, who refuses to read this, will know the second, and minghai may well know the last. then again it isn't so hard a situation to imagine. considering how little (of my) time the grinder takes up during its periods of supremacy.
what's in a dance? it may very well be graceful endeavors cumulating in the resolution of some thematic concern or other, technical manoeuvres with a mind to deliver some sort of a social critique, exercises of the physical variety acting as a complex narrative tool, and the list goes on. it can, however, sadly, also serve as an outlet to spasmodic twitchings in accordance with those struck with the combined afflictions of the pavlovian and the sufferer of the dreaded psycho-motor deficiency syndrome. the result is fearful-looking combinations of sporadic gyrations of various body parts in accordance with a secret polyrhythmic beat only grasped by masters of percussions the world over with regards to the latter, and the uncontrollable emission of bodily fluids from every conceivable gland in adherence to the former. so it is that this here hypothetical gentleman will display never known possible contortions of his body with his tongue hanging limply from the side of his maw. it is an education in the human anatomy (or perhaps just this particular man's) as one discovers the endless possibilities of the human body, including turning your knees to the left while twisting your shoulders to the right while jerking your hips to the left while throwing your right arm to the left while thrusting your left hand upwards while attempting to break your neck throwing your head forcibly forward ALL AT ONCE. it's still all hypothetical though. purely hypothetical.
oh how i love dance. and, of course, how my hypothetical gentleman must love it too. and maybe when push comes to shove i may even love him more. perhaps if he did it with better control of his jaw muscles he'll actually look the epitome of technique and proficiency and give rise to a new art form. flatley who, indeed.
how is it that shit piles up to hit the wildly whirling fan everytime the occupation finds a reprieve? ain't the truth of the world that it's always better on holidays, so much better on holidays; that's why we only work when we need the money? but the truth about the world is that crime does pay. the guns n' roses offspring is strokes-ed. i think no one will know the first, soe, who refuses to read this, will know the second, and minghai may well know the last. then again it isn't so hard a situation to imagine. considering how little (of my) time the grinder takes up during its periods of supremacy.
what's in a dance? it may very well be graceful endeavors cumulating in the resolution of some thematic concern or other, technical manoeuvres with a mind to deliver some sort of a social critique, exercises of the physical variety acting as a complex narrative tool, and the list goes on. it can, however, sadly, also serve as an outlet to spasmodic twitchings in accordance with those struck with the combined afflictions of the pavlovian and the sufferer of the dreaded psycho-motor deficiency syndrome. the result is fearful-looking combinations of sporadic gyrations of various body parts in accordance with a secret polyrhythmic beat only grasped by masters of percussions the world over with regards to the latter, and the uncontrollable emission of bodily fluids from every conceivable gland in adherence to the former. so it is that this here hypothetical gentleman will display never known possible contortions of his body with his tongue hanging limply from the side of his maw. it is an education in the human anatomy (or perhaps just this particular man's) as one discovers the endless possibilities of the human body, including turning your knees to the left while twisting your shoulders to the right while jerking your hips to the left while throwing your right arm to the left while thrusting your left hand upwards while attempting to break your neck throwing your head forcibly forward ALL AT ONCE. it's still all hypothetical though. purely hypothetical.
oh how i love dance. and, of course, how my hypothetical gentleman must love it too. and maybe when push comes to shove i may even love him more. perhaps if he did it with better control of his jaw muscles he'll actually look the epitome of technique and proficiency and give rise to a new art form. flatley who, indeed.
posted by zen at 12:56 PM
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