I had a sworn promise a few days ago that I would abstain from clubbing until I have tamed myself not to dance naked on the dance floor. The sight simply is too embarrassing, especially when I have company. However, downing three bottles of strong ice had made me overturn my earlier statement. I was there in Government, dancing in front of Dabo with still my shirt on, complaining as to why the DJ had picked up dance anthems that were too gay for my taste.
Now everyone's attention had shifted from Danton Remoto to this friend of ours we found to be keeping a hidden talent in dancing. For "security" reasons I will call him Jiban in this entry. Jiban was the most uptight among my friends who went to Government last Saturday. While me and Dabo had already positioned ourselves right in front of the ledge, he was still there, sulking in one of the corners. Maybe he was waiting for the right music to get him in the mood, I don't know. Perhaps he needed more alcohol in his system before he could muster enough courage to groove with us on the floor.
At past one in the morning, the DJ must have sensed that the crowd wasn't releasing enough energy to "bring the house down." I never saw anyone putting his hands up in the air - except for that Chinese-looking kid who appeared to be high in E and was wiggling like a maggot in one of the poles at the fringes of the dance floor. Meanwhile, it seems like the effects of alcohol had already kicked in Jiban's system. He came out of nowhere and began strutting his moves in the middle of our circle.
Jiban's good looks, impressive height and his natural penchant for dancing like a real gigolo had immediately caught the crowd's attention. Even I, who never stops dancing the moment my energy reaches its peak levels had to take a break only to be mesmerized by his synchronized and controlled bodily motion. He was like a bamboo swaying gracefully in the wind; his arms reach out to some imaginary fruit, too sweet and succulent, the only thing we could do is to gape at him as he expressed himself in a manner that is contagious to anyone who appreciates the fine art of clubbing.
I could not take the heat of his moves. Besides, the dance floor had become too crowded as everyone wanted to get close and see Jiban in action. So I climbed the ledge to release the energy I got from just watching my very talented friend perform his gigolo dancing. My aim was to take the central spot, only to put Jiban in my place after I succeeded in wrestling it from other shameless exhibitionist like me. Unfortunately, the kid doesn't want to get noticed. He was contented in his own little space still swaying and grinding like he had his own elevated platform. So I was left trying to follow his steps, but it seems like I had already developed my own - which I got from dancing hard house and trance all these years. Two dance anthems later and I have exhausted myself to submission. I went down to take a leak only to see Danton standing beside one of the tables, clapping as I passed in front of him.
"Yaiks, he saw me getting wasted up there! Kahiya" I told myself.
I smiled at the esteemed Congressman and bowed my head to accept his recognition. He was alone, fabulous as ever and was impressed with my performance.
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Now everyone's attention had shifted from Danton Remoto to this friend of ours we found to be keeping a hidden talent in dancing. For "security" reasons I will call him Jiban in this entry. Jiban was the most uptight among my friends who went to Government last Saturday. While me and Dabo had already positioned ourselves right in front of the ledge, he was still there, sulking in one of the corners. Maybe he was waiting for the right music to get him in the mood, I don't know. Perhaps he needed more alcohol in his system before he could muster enough courage to groove with us on the floor.At past one in the morning, the DJ must have sensed that the crowd wasn't releasing enough energy to "bring the house down." I never saw anyone putting his hands up in the air - except for that Chinese-looking kid who appeared to be high in E and was wiggling like a maggot in one of the poles at the fringes of the dance floor. Meanwhile, it seems like the effects of alcohol had already kicked in Jiban's system. He came out of nowhere and began strutting his moves in the middle of our circle.
Jiban's good looks, impressive height and his natural penchant for dancing like a real gigolo had immediately caught the crowd's attention. Even I, who never stops dancing the moment my energy reaches its peak levels had to take a break only to be mesmerized by his synchronized and controlled bodily motion. He was like a bamboo swaying gracefully in the wind; his arms reach out to some imaginary fruit, too sweet and succulent, the only thing we could do is to gape at him as he expressed himself in a manner that is contagious to anyone who appreciates the fine art of clubbing.
I could not take the heat of his moves. Besides, the dance floor had become too crowded as everyone wanted to get close and see Jiban in action. So I climbed the ledge to release the energy I got from just watching my very talented friend perform his gigolo dancing. My aim was to take the central spot, only to put Jiban in my place after I succeeded in wrestling it from other shameless exhibitionist like me. Unfortunately, the kid doesn't want to get noticed. He was contented in his own little space still swaying and grinding like he had his own elevated platform. So I was left trying to follow his steps, but it seems like I had already developed my own - which I got from dancing hard house and trance all these years. Two dance anthems later and I have exhausted myself to submission. I went down to take a leak only to see Danton standing beside one of the tables, clapping as I passed in front of him.
"Yaiks, he saw me getting wasted up there! Kahiya" I told myself.
I smiled at the esteemed Congressman and bowed my head to accept his recognition. He was alone, fabulous as ever and was impressed with my performance.
---
-tobecontinued-
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