Got to boogie Woogie Like A Knife in the Back
Puppetmaster and the Wa-Twist-i
"Look. You either do the Twist or the Watusi. Whichever one you chose, you are just doing it wrong. It's like this. . . ."
"No, I'm doing a new dance. It's both. It's the Wa-Twist-i"
She kept dancing as he laughed all the way to the ground.
She helped his writhing carcass up off the floor as they both laughed convulsively while trying to keep a beat.
Most of the time, there were jokes that "you just had to be there" for. But sometimes, it was as if their whole lives were filled with music, dancing and laughing so hard you couldn't breathe.
She asked him if he felt like a puppeteer, playing a guitar and having all the Girls dance to his orders.
"Yes," he'd say. And in a good mood, he'd add: "Except I can't control how good they dance or not. I'm a very clumsy puppetmaster. I shake the strings and they jump. Some nights, there is no grace to it at all"
Other nights, he'd capture a moment in his mind, somewhere in his photographic, kinetic memory. The crowds, the music, how everything came together within his control. Yet, it seemed like it was him being the puppet. The tool. As if the music was using him. Or whatever the larger power was. The Magic.
It was how he opened his mouth and the words came. Or he'd just strum his hand along the guitar strings, and the old hits would come right back. Done his new way, and with 40 years of experience behind them.
Like really good sex, when it becomes all sensation and pleasure and there is no thinking involved. Just being in the moment. Your logical brain stops working; you forget your troubles, the presentation you need to prepare for Friday, the accountant not fixing the deductions.
Music was energy, is was gas in your cherry red convertible speeding down Route 66.
It was his other life. The Real One. And why he never felt normal being offstage. The genuinely clumsy version of himself. Itching to get back onstage. And then, why was it so easy to fall into that groove? The music fed him, and vice versa.
It was the closest he would ever come to proof of a Higher Power.
Sea Cruise by JLL
Puppetmaster and the Wa-Twist-i
"Look. You either do the Twist or the Watusi. Whichever one you chose, you are just doing it wrong. It's like this. . . ."
"No, I'm doing a new dance. It's both. It's the Wa-Twist-i"
She kept dancing as he laughed all the way to the ground.
She helped his writhing carcass up off the floor as they both laughed convulsively while trying to keep a beat.
Most of the time, there were jokes that "you just had to be there" for. But sometimes, it was as if their whole lives were filled with music, dancing and laughing so hard you couldn't breathe.
She asked him if he felt like a puppeteer, playing a guitar and having all the Girls dance to his orders.
"Yes," he'd say. And in a good mood, he'd add: "Except I can't control how good they dance or not. I'm a very clumsy puppetmaster. I shake the strings and they jump. Some nights, there is no grace to it at all"
Other nights, he'd capture a moment in his mind, somewhere in his photographic, kinetic memory. The crowds, the music, how everything came together within his control. Yet, it seemed like it was him being the puppet. The tool. As if the music was using him. Or whatever the larger power was. The Magic.
It was how he opened his mouth and the words came. Or he'd just strum his hand along the guitar strings, and the old hits would come right back. Done his new way, and with 40 years of experience behind them.
Like really good sex, when it becomes all sensation and pleasure and there is no thinking involved. Just being in the moment. Your logical brain stops working; you forget your troubles, the presentation you need to prepare for Friday, the accountant not fixing the deductions.
Music was energy, is was gas in your cherry red convertible speeding down Route 66.
It was his other life. The Real One. And why he never felt normal being offstage. The genuinely clumsy version of himself. Itching to get back onstage. And then, why was it so easy to fall into that groove? The music fed him, and vice versa.
It was the closest he would ever come to proof of a Higher Power.
Sea Cruise by JLL
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