| And what are these qualities? And whither
the guy in the back yard? Well, there he was on the living room floor,
three beers deep into a twelve-pack, when he got up and began to
dance. The webmonster and I held hands but declined to join him — we’d
spent a long time in ta hot car yesterday and weren’t up for
dancing — but he was undeterred. He explained that when you’ve
chosen to live like he does, you have to break out your dancing shoes
whenever the opportunity to do so chances to meet with its corresponding
urge. And so the night gave way to dawn, warmly and then warmer,
with the guy who lives in the back yard twirling and shimmying around
across and through our living room, knocking things over, ourselves
raising our bottles to him in his closed-lidded ecstasy, Steve Earle’s
guitars crying out loud, freed from their country-rock context and
set into Dulli’s Cincinatti-on-fire world-of-Motown redux. |