dancing with Slick

Monday is off to a slow start after a rather slow weekend. Not much is happening to me lately. I think that the problem is that I'm waiting for things to happen to me, while I ought to be making things happen around me. I've been particularly lethargic lately. I'll blame it on the heat. On Sunday I went to my swing dancing class. There is quite a range of skill at the class, which gives me some hope for improvement. But, never did I imagine someone so incompetent as a certain kid would ever attend a dancing class. I'll call him Slick, because his hair is greased back with about 2kg of lard. He tries to exude a retro look with tight jeans and a white t-shirt tucked into the jeans. Slick's retro-coolness is betrayed by the fact he looks about 15 years old. Actually, his downfall is that he can't dance. Rather than the smooth step of swing dancing he hops around erratically giving no heed to the tempo. His attempts to maneuver the girl are defeated by his adolescent awkwardness, much to the distress of his dancing partner. Yet Slick seems oblivious to his deficiencies and the goofy smile never leaves his face. The instructors are always stopping him to explain and correct. Slick always beams with enlightenment and promptly returns to his errant style. I am filled both with pity and the desire to walk up to him and say, "Do you have any idea how pathetic you are? Come back in a few years with some clue." I'm glad that people who don't dance well feel comfortable taking the class. But, if someone lacks the ability to improve it's time to give up.

Saturday evening Seth and I went out for beer. He and I have been drinking buddies since before we were 21. Er, since we turned 21. Now that he's unemployed we're going out more often. For a change we decided to walk down to Old Pas and enjoy Lucky Baldwin's fine selection of beers. We had gone through most of a pitcher while debating the terrorism prediction market when a guy in his mid-40's jumped into the conversation. He bought us drinks and we chatted about politics, society, and writing. Small world that this is, we also ran into Keith, our old RA in Blacker Hovse.

Not that small actually, considering that I've lived in the same city as Keith and not seen him in nearly 4 years. We ought to run into people more often. We ought to meet new people more often. Sadly, once we're out of school we rarely meet people outside of our workplace or church. I only know one of my next door neighbors by name. Perhaps, I should bake cookies and stop by like my family used to when I was young. But, that would be "weird" today. What about the rest of my community? I pass them silently in the aisles of Ralphs. We ignore each other while doing laundry. Our most common exchange of communication is with a turn signal. Pubs like Lucky Baldwin's are a bit of an escape for this. But, it's sad that we need to be slightly intoxicated to talk with the strangers around us. Maybe I should make more of an effort to strike up conversations with the guy in front of me in line or the other people at the bus stop. Maybe I should put chairs out in front of my place and chat with people walking by. If only we had public squares where people could gather for no other purpose. I suppose, for now, I'll keep hitting the pubs.