The Little Things: Dancing

-Max Gouchian

President Monkey isn’t doing much as of late. In fact his recent endeavors as the leader of the ‘free’ world have been modest. Sure there was the occasional lash out at the mainstream media but hell they deserve it! What happened to his opponent, when in doubt search ‘Trump News’ you’ll get something about her. Killary, I mean Hitlary, I mean Hillary, made another robotic video in which she, or her clone I’m not sure yet if she just has one or a thousand, addressed the democrats across America. The highlight of her talk spoke about the unending protests liberals have been conducting across the U.S. stating quote ‘its the democratic party at its best’. Oh boy. If creating traffic, inciting violence, and being bored is a party at its best, we are in trouble. My advice, go home, get a job, read a book, do something productive that makes tomorrow better, don’t hold a sign in a street. Ok? Did I address the women’s march in this blog? That was stupid too.

So what is there left to do at the end of a boring week? Dance. Dancing is one of those things that completely liberates you from the shackles of society and detaches you from daily stress. Its like singing in the shower but better because your not worried whether your downstairs neighbor can hear you butcher a song by ‘The Weekend’. My friends are mostly… how do I put this? My friends are a thousand years old, each! Honestly getting those grandpas and grandmas out of their nests to hit the town, so to speak, is a marathon in itself, but mention that there is dancing involved and they will make up every excuse in the world to stay at home and rot. Of course, there are some I can always rely on, those that will take my hand and join me in an intimate routine that encompasses beauty, humor, and devotion.

Once I have locked her soft hands in my grip, we proceed to the dance floor. Now usually Armenians are ‘loksh’ and ‘ttvats’ so we are the only ones dancing and everyone glares at us especially since we are in a pub, oh did I forget to mention that? The smoky dark atmosphere in bars provides for a great dancing experience, not to mention a few drinks make me look much better than I actually appear. 😉 Depending on the song the routine changes. Usually the trip begins with a action packed thrill, something from the 70s, this process is almost instinctual we look at each other’s feet and quickly move from side to side jumping and laughing, occasionally we look up at each other and smile with a blush. Every now and then I spin her around pull her in close and let her spin off once again.

After a few of those we begin to sweat, her skin becomes warm and both of us begin to radiate something spiritual, a connection that pulls us closer and closer with each song. The barman or DJ, because you don’t always have to be at a pub, plays something slow. She jumps towards me, her hands nesting themselves on my chest as she lets out an exhausted sigh of relief, ‘uhh, I’m so tired’, she says. We both smile as she locks my neck with her soft arms and I firmly grab her waist. We look into each others eyes and slowly move side to side. In our own little bubble, the world grows silent and isolated, who cares about Trump?

Painting by Melinda Tracy



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