Never Gonna Dance

"Though, I'm left without a penny,
The wolf was discreet.
He left me my feet....
And so, I put them down on anything
But the la belle,
La perfectly swell romance.
Never gonna dance.
Never gonna dance.
Only gonna love.
Never gonna dance."


I've fallen in love with the sound of Fred Astaire's voice. I sit here in the office at the Cancer Center, legs crossed under the desk, feet tapping, 5th cup of Joe of the day grasped in my 2pm tired hand, fan blowing in my face reminding me that tomorrow I'll be sitting in cool car air all day instead of the broken air conditioning here in my department, and suddenly, over my left shoulder, I hear someone sing to me...


"Have I a heart that acts like a heart,
Or is it a crazy drum,
Beating the weird tattoos
Of the St. Louis Blues?"

We recieved "Swing Time" in the mail a couple of weeks ago....
Jim said that he could tell when a dance number was coming up....not because of the splendid opening banter or a bowing big band intro, but because I would pull the covers up over half of my face and start convulsing...(I'd like to say right now that I have no memory of said seizure but do know that in my mind, at the moment such things may or may not have occured, I was taking Ginger's place as Fred's very capable dance partner...)

"Have I two eyes to see your two eyes
Or see myself on my toes
Dancing to radios
Or Major Edward Bowes?"

Tomorrow, we're driving up to Illinois for Jaime's wedding. Our first big trip together. As I'm typing this, Jim is at his house, checking the list of things to pack.

(Light dress shirt for Saturday afternoon outside wedding featuring hayride) (CHECK)
(Casino Clothes for eve of wedding on a riverboat outside of ST. Louis) (CROSSED OUT)
(Walking shoes for back pasture of Miller Family Farm and Streets of Chicago) (CHECK)

"Though, I'm left without a penny,
The wolf was discreet.
He left me my feet.
And so, I put them down on anything
But the la belle,
La perfectly swell romance.

Never gonna dance.
Never gonna dance.
Only gonna love.
Never gonna dance".

I've driven this trek up to Browstown so many times that it should be a blur, a tunnel of travel...but I find that as I slip over the state line into Tennessee, burn through Nashville, up to Clarksville, over through Bowling Breen, Kentucky, to Paducah and then to the Land of Lincoln, I still take in the scenery bit by bit, dreamily eyeing lakes and fields and rolling hills, captivated. I'm sure I'll tug Jim's sleeve and point ten thousand times tomorrow. He'll smile and take my hand and nod. I wish that he could see these things through my eyes, with my heart... and maybe he will.


"I'll put my shoes on beautiful trees.
I'll give my rhythm back to the breeze.
My dinner clothes may dine where they please,
For all I really want is you.

And to Groucho Marx I give my cravat.
To Harpo goes my shiny silk hat.
And to heaven, I give a vow
To adore you. I'm starting now
To be much more positive.
That's....

Though, I'm left without my Penny,
The wolf was not smart.
He left me my heart.
And so, I cannot go for anything
But the la belle,
La perfectly swell romance.

Never gonna dance.
Never gonna dance.
Only gonna love you.
Never gonna dance."

"Never Gonna Dance"
music by Jerome Kerns and words by Dorothy Fields

Would that I were you....

I'd think the same thing too...

I'm listening to Sun Kil Moon. Leaning back to peer through the partition to make sure that no patients have wandered through the door silently. A little paranoia, when I hear the door slam across the room, down the hall, but it's just Alicia, the lab tech. Nevermind.

Carry Me Ohio
I see Kristin the Canadian's tri-shaded pink converse resting on the dashboard of my car. I see the morning drive, returning from Nashville, just as the sky turns grey and it starts to rain. We decide to get off of the interstate. I turn down a road and see a sign for the Jack Daniels distillery in Tennessee. We drive and drive down this empty fourlaned highway for a really long time. I keep looking at the clock...I've already missed English class that morning...I can miss Mass Com too.
This trip was worth it. The Mark Kozelek show from the night before, dark stage and shadowed grimace, crazy guitar fingerings and beautiful low tired voice, echoing through the speakers of the stock stereo in my honda civic, pulling the grey day into our car with a smile.

I always liked rainy days. Growing up in Brownstown, during spring showers, I would run out sans shoes and socks to saunter through the puddles pooling up on the warm asphalt road. I miss that smell. Not like the rain here in the city. There was a greenness to it, the fresh and cool and clean of a muddley puddley day.

muddley puddley...

Kristin and I never did make it to the distillery. We drove and drove and once the rain started to come down a bit harder, it's almost as if it pounded the life out of our little side trip. Pulling back out onto the interstate a little while later, we looked at each other and smiled. It was enough, this moment was enough, there would be something somewhere else on down the road, maybe something more interesting.

Mark's guitar made the wheels turn in time...the rain drumming out the changes....