October 19, 2008

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  When I wake up, it is already 7:30.  There is no sunlight although it isn’t dark.  At the corner where the sun usually comes out the sky is pale pink.  Autumn, the sun is sleeping late.  The tree by window is already bright yellow.  No birds sing.  The trees sway.

   

  Sway.

   

  The word reminds me the dance last night.  I went to a wedding.  The groom is an Italian descendant.  The bride is Vietnamese.  I attended the ceremoney at 5:30pm, hoping I could be home by nine so I could do some translation, a piece about Milan Kundera denouncing an intelligent officer.  Perhaps with that mentality I felt the time was so slow.  I sat through halfway of the process feeling rather bored, already drank a little more than half of the glass of wine.

   

  The DJ had some swing on, only a couple danced.  I love swing but I don’t think my dance partner can handle swing smoothly.  I felt already an itch until the DJ played chacha.  He asked but I already stood up and took his hand went through the gap of the tables between wedding attendees.  We were the first pair on the dance floor.  The light was on, not dim.  The ceiling was bright and colorful with art glass, marble floor, marble stairs, everything so grand.  I was loosened up gradually until the second chacha song.  Sway.

   

  When the marimba starts to play

  Dance with me, make me sway.
  Like the lazy ocean hugs the shore
  Sway me now, sway me more.

  Other dancers are on the floor

  But my eyes see only you

   

  Hah, I already heard the sound of the violin, long ago, before it began.

   

  He is not a fancy dancer.  He dances because he knows I love to.  He knows a few basic steps.  One two chachacha.  I am retreating.  He is advancing.  He can bridge and turn.  Perhaps he can promenade too but we have not tried, plus the dance floor is crowded.

   

  I danced without inhibition last night.  From chachacha to meringue.  The DJ was smart; he played chachacha for about 5 songs.  I looked around; the dance floor became crowded.  We moved across the dance floor boldly last night.  He was pretty damn good.  He was twirling me like a top.

   

  Only you have that magic technique.  When you sway I go weak.  Micheal Bubble sung the lyrics.

   

  A friend came by the table asking if both of us taking dance lessons.  She said you have to come to my charity function.

   

  The DJ perhaps felt the crowd, there was no rumba, salsa, tango, or waltz.  I heard one fox-trot, I think he can handle, but I was tired.

   

  I came home after 10, watching the Fantastic Four to cool down. 

   

  We made love. He kissed me ardently.  After that I asked him to turn his back to me, because I needed to lay on the left side, my habit.  And I couln’t handle the feeling that I breath in the carbonic dioxide in someone’s breath.  In darkness, my hand lay against his stomach.  I felt his rythm.  I drifted into sleep.
  

  Happiness?  Lifelong?  This morning I feel older.  My body is aching because of those strenous activities.

  The post will be on for twenty four hours.

   

  • 8:11 am
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