…why I gotta cut loose
Footloose.
Yes my friends, I am about to kick off my Sunday shoes.
Not serious dance…that kind of freaks me out. I mean I have seen Black Swan, so I know what it leads to. I love crazy distracting, shapeless dance that requires absolutely no skill and makes people think you are Yeltsin drunk.
My love of bad dance started at a young age thanks to the beauty of 80s cinema being played on TV1 on the weekends. Cinema of the 80s taught me most of life’s lessons but most importantly, between Dirty Dancing, Flashdance and the aforementioned Footloose I grew to learn that dance was the way to solve all of life’s problems.
That and a perm…or kicking things. Roadhouse.
I also grew up with images of Elaine Benes dancing with thumbs of glory on Seinfeld and despite popular opinion being that it was hilariously awful, I simply thought it was pretty cool.
There was such a joy in the way she moved, as bad as it may have looked to others, and I knew that cutting loose like Elaine would make you happy…no matter what.
As a break from study (or lack thereof) during my HSC I used to dance around my room in my underwear. Do not be alarmed, generally this form of dance break occurred before or after a shower…and I was home alone.
It wasn’t weird, merely relaxing.
As I have grown older I have also learnt that dancing also can be used to solve turf wars. West Side Story taught us that if a rumble fails us, dance would cure the problems of the world. Or that’s the message I got from it anyway. I also got the message that I’m pretty, witty and gay but that is how I read it…I have digressed.
So please, Louise, next time you have an issue don’t use your fists, don’t fill yourself with rage and vitriol (unless you write about it…obviously), don’t get stressed (Frankie says relax after all), simply cut loose, footloose, and dance.
You can use your legs to kick away your issues, but you have to say roadhouse afterwards.
Roadhouse.
No comments:
Post a Comment