Dancing and The Husband Factor

Last night they danced like ravenous lovers, exhibiting dips and lunges as if in a wild river rapid, possessed by an interior urge to exorcise repressed emotions. The music wasn't all that good and it felt like the DJ may have been schizophrenic to some degree, or at least mildly tone deaf, but this did not hinder the dancer's enthusiasm. Any beat would do. They simply adjusted for any off timed mix. After a couple hours of gyration and thrusting the group of dancers felt they could use some fresh air reminded by the close proximity of dozens of other mover's and shaker's gradually encrouching, compacted with a hovering cloud of cigarette smoke that they had bodies, and they were saying, 'give us a break and you need fresh air.' This was merely intermission, a slight reality check, soon there after they went back inside, contuining with the liberation of body and mind. It was a feast of the body. A Dionysian gorge of rhythmn and movement set to a backdrop of beats. Hurt so good.



Within the past two weeks I'm going to say, a strange phenomena of sorts has occupied my life. Not strange in the sense of paranormal activity ,although something like that could be trying to creep into my consciousness via this subject, trying to 'say something'? I can't be sure, but strange in the sense that it's from out of nowhere, seemingly unplanned, unthoughtout, not within my scope of intentionality. I have received three proposals for husbandry by three different ladies at various times in a very small time frame. These three separate ladies are all co-worker's of mine and no doubt talk about me behind my back, I'm sure after these forward compliments.
The first lady to comment to me about this was a nice, friendly Southern Cowgirl type from Austin, Texas of all places whose recently moved to Philadelphia if I remember correctly? She made the comment that, 'if I were a little younger I'd marry you.' I smiled in reply. What was I to do? My Ipod was playing Tom Waits by my request and she'd walked into my area and began talking to me about Tom with a huge smile like I'd made her the happiest woman alive because she knew someone else who listened to and liked Tom Waits. The backstory to this is that we'd had other similarities of interest's like a odd unquenshable thrust for knowledge and learning, talking from politic's to books to travelling to Cuba, and obviously we had a recognized ease with each other's personality traits so for her to say that to me was kind of an acknowledgment that in another life we'd have made a good couple more than a direct forward annunciation that she wanted to be with me. So that was the first comment about the 'husband factor'.
The second was by another very nice lady who works in the make-up industry prettying Senator's and busty phone sex models for television. We'd talked briefly in passing and always shared big hello's and smiles whenever we saw each other and then one day I was playing a Sade album when she came walking up behind me and made the comment that, 'if you were older I'd marry you' or something like that. Basically the same thing the first lady had said but reversing the older' ,'younger' scenario. Both of these women are I'd say mid-forties? Both of these ladies are people whose company I would enjoy outside of work and would welcome a drink or conversation with and probably will down the road should the opportunity arise for they are both well spoken and have interesting things to say and I always enjoy listening to people who have more experience in living than I do talk about things that are interesting to me to hear about.
The third comment was made the end of last week and was made indirectly to another co-worker of mine who then passed on the information to me, probably with the intention of creating a internal workshop soap opera which I of course will take no part of. This lady and I share a similar age and she has a child of less than a year and how serious she is or not, is probably looking for a good man to help watch over her child with her and who she can tolerate and consider's 'normal', which she did call me and to which I had many grave questions which I kept to myself for she presumed to walk away quickly after rapid firing me with half-a-dozen question's. They were yes or no question's. She's inquisitive.
All of this gives me some comprehension of self-worth for I figure I must be doing something right if these women all feel I'd be worthy of courting them. This all comes during a time in my life where I have conscientiously separated myself from the movement towards looking for any companion whatsoever and have intentionally kept more to myself wanting to only focus on my artwork and creative endeavors. I find it very complimentary that three women, who I also find intriguing to be around, feel the same about me. But alas, none of the women would I really want to sleep with per se or be married to for any reason and not so much because of them but rather that I do not want to be married at all to anyone really, at least not in the way they mean. So it's this concept of marriage and me as 'husband' that has come into my waking reality that has been questioning what indeed I would be like as a husband or a father and would I be able to deal with both wanting to work in my studio and have to be responsible for another small human and what would it be like to have a 'wife', a fine lady I'd love and get love back from on a daily basis, although that is probably more fallacy than outright reasonalbe to even think, I mean no relationship is without its turmoils and hardships, not even me and my work get along sometimes. Sometimes the pen just doesn't want to work in direct harmonious unison with my hand, like they have two separate minds and none the two shall meet. But isn't that the challenge? The rope with two ends that you keep trying to tie back together to form a warm knot with?
I think I'd make a fantastic husband.


I found four one dollar bills crumpled up in a cup in a trash can on my lunch break one day last week. I was throwing away a toothpick from a sushi sample and saw the beckoning bills sitting right there looking at me, like they were calling out my attention. I put aside all social proclivities and made my hand go in for the money's. The trash janitor was the only one I made eye contact with but I'd beat him to it. He missed out if he didn't think anybody would stick their grubby hands in the trash canister to pick out dirty dollar bills. Well he was wrong and I won and am four dollar's richer. That same day I jokingly made a bet with lady #1 from above that a certain folder was 'black' and not 'green' like she'd thought it was. The bet was two dollar's which she came up with and when I returned from my lunch break she gave me those two dollar's, although I'd have been fine if she never gave it to me. I thought it was more of a friendly joke.