![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Tribal is a new monthly that Michael Manahan, of whom I've written here many times, is putting on at Re-bar. I trust the guy not to suck, so natch, I went. As I was walking in the door, among the first as usual for me at techno events, five sweet young things, four female and one male, come in behind me in a group - wearing a whole lot of beads and feathered headdresses. 'Uh oh,' think I, 'This could be bad hippie s**t, as opposed to the good kind.' (Pace ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
gement, the headdresses weren't close replicas of any Native American headdress that I know of.)
Happily, the music was right on. I danced more than I have in maybe a few months. Props to Rob Noble and a new one to me, Cybo. I actually didn't stay for Manahan's set becauseI'm too damn old Nibs wanted the car in the morning. Crowd? Big, slightly stinky (Duh.), and of not unfriendly.
Yes, the sweet things got things going early and occasionally had the stage to themselves. One of them had obvious belly dance training. I told her so when I ran into her at Re-bar's fabulous free water dispenser.
"Actually," she said, "I'm a professional dancer."
"Yeah. Damn."
"Thanks for noticing." And she smiled, squeezed my hand, and disappeared into the crowd.
Few things derange me more thoroughly than pretty, charming women who dance well. Of course I didn't get her name, even though we were at one point both outside where I can hear. I am totally going back to that night.
My cousin JL sent me a nice email last night. I haven't heard from her in ages, and I was delighted to write back. She could only have gotten the right address from her mother, who was one of the recipients of my last batch of letters.
Since I met Nibs, I've envied her close relationship with her cousins. Between geography and occasional ill feeling between my parents and their immediate families, I never saw much of mine. Now that I can be real about myself, I may fix that to the degree that I can.
gement, the headdresses weren't close replicas of any Native American headdress that I know of.)Happily, the music was right on. I danced more than I have in maybe a few months. Props to Rob Noble and a new one to me, Cybo. I actually didn't stay for Manahan's set because
Yes, the sweet things got things going early and occasionally had the stage to themselves. One of them had obvious belly dance training. I told her so when I ran into her at Re-bar's fabulous free water dispenser.
"Actually," she said, "I'm a professional dancer."
"Yeah. Damn."
"Thanks for noticing." And she smiled, squeezed my hand, and disappeared into the crowd.
Few things derange me more thoroughly than pretty, charming women who dance well. Of course I didn't get her name, even though we were at one point both outside where I can hear. I am totally going back to that night.
My cousin JL sent me a nice email last night. I haven't heard from her in ages, and I was delighted to write back. She could only have gotten the right address from her mother, who was one of the recipients of my last batch of letters.
Since I met Nibs, I've envied her close relationship with her cousins. Between geography and occasional ill feeling between my parents and their immediate families, I never saw much of mine. Now that I can be real about myself, I may fix that to the degree that I can.
