ealdanagutiérrez; 001

[adequacies]

While I know there are many more pressing matters at hand, there's been a distinct problem I've noticed onboard in the most recent karaoke nights.  I won’t name names, but I have noticed a lack of rhythm that can be rectified with a little practice. Luckily, I am here to help, and there is no singing required.

This Friday, I'll be hosting a group salsa class in the community room.   You don't need to have danced before; all prior skills you need are the ability to count to eight and how to stand up straight.

All are welcome, though anyone who is judgmental towards others just learning will be asked to leave.  I don't have patience for that, and it's supposed to be fun.

See you Friday at seven.  Wear comfortable shoes.

Comments

Sox.

[backdrive]

Oh. That makes a lot of sense, actually. [...] I don’t like that!

Sox.

[jinking]

It's not a big deal! Really.

What's your mom like?

Sox.

[backdrive]

I've been thinking about her a lot this week and trying to remember what she was like before the Fall. She was an artist. She'd make these HUGE paintings that were like even bigger than she was and they had so much color. They were like light through a prism. Sometimes she'd let me help her too.

But she stopped painting after the Fall and got a job at a grocery market. She said she liked talking to all the people at the store. I thought she was a very happy person when I was little, like human sunshine! But then after the Fall I would wonder if she only made art because she was actually very sad.

Sox.

[jinking]

I think one of the strangest parts about getting older is realizing your parents are real people. I mean, obviously they're real people, they're not robots or anything. But they've got whole lives and histories we're never really let in on. The stories they tell or the ones you hear secondhand, they're all trimmed up and tidied. And most of the time we only know them as the folks who raised us. But they've got their own hopes and heartaches same as the rest of us.

Maybe your mom was sad. Hard to say. Maybe it was only now and then. I just reckon any kind of art — painting, music, dancing, all of it — takes feelings you can't reach with the chip in place. Seems like you need some fire in you somewhere. Joy, grief, love, longing, all the stuff the Veil just smooths down.

Sox.

[backdrive]

I know what you mean. Reading this made me sad, but in a nice way. [...] Thank you.

Sox.

[jinking]

You're welcome?. Any time.