Throughout the course of human events, a time arrives when a leader must step out and visit every event as a goodwill ambassador for his organization. Starting last Saturday, I hit the trail as a representative of all things salsa and social dance, or something like that. Basically, my time has been spent with others that were once foreign, but now, have effectively become my family. It’s not the ensemble I’m familiar with, but the ensemble that happens to fit the bill at the moment. Replace a couple longstanding friends with a plucky group of newcomers, and the next thing I know, I’m ready to take over the world without sleep.
Saturday was the Underground Rhythm event hosted by Salsa Intocable. My first preference would be to stay home and sleep, because I’ve missed my room and comforts of being detached from professionalism. But no, the Last Emperor of Salsa arrived, performed, and showed a crowd what I could do while cold and wearing green sleeves. It never ceases to amaze me how many people stop and stare at something different, yet beautiful. My science has progressed into an art, and I appreciate the kudos. Same at swing club’s social tonight. I was there for a bit, dressed in traditional battle attire, and I rocked the floor for the couple of songs I had. I like the attitude and presence that swing gives; it’s calming and jovial. I wasn’t uptight for the first time in what could be months, because the music and dancing allows you to open up and relax.
Speaking of stressing out and not being where I want to be, this Friday will be the Social Dance Party. Normally, I’d look forward to this, but the times are a-changing. Hell, the times have a-changed. The original layout was supposed to feature me and my valet against my rival and his valet. That would have been fun; I was open to the idea of a lime green costume with my partner. Not sure how that would have turned out, but I would have enjoyed it immensely. Now, no valet, and no rival, leaving me with an alternate set of sketches. Contingency efforts will always be in vogue because people aren’t always able to keep their word. Despite my disdain for actually going to the event, I don’t have much of a choice. It is my club, my event, and I am sworn to make it a spectacle regardless of how I feel. With that said, I think I’ve settled on becoming the embodiment of sleaze. I talked to Jordan about what does it take to be a member of Prince Nana’s Embassy, and he said something about members having to be absolute bottom-feeders, scum of the planet. Our favorite local indy wrestler, Joey Ryan is a member of the Embassy, and while in Phoenix, I bought his shirt. Although it would conflict with the theme, his shirt does have neon color accents, which would go well with my lime green. I might can’t play in my chest hair, but I can have a look that says “you can catch a disease just by talking to me.” Accessorize the look with lime green sleeves, a title belt, and a smirk that says “I’m easy”…instant classic. Before my performance with the team, I pumped them up by bouncing off walls telling them we’re going to tear shit up. Friday night, for perhaps the last time, I will tear shit up on my home floor. No valet, no rival, no reservations. I’m looking forward to seeing just how much of my personality can drive the party from where it was to where it can be. Doing this alone was never in my plans, but flying solo this time just might be the inspiration I need to truly tear shit up. Skibbedebebop. Much later.
Current Track – Saliva “Never Gonna Change”