Dancing in the street

I've recently realized how batshit crazy I must look when I "walk" down the street. Now that I'm jacked into my iPod everywhere I go, it's difficult not to get into a groove whilst walking, and even end up dancing at the same time. Being a foreigner it's quite easy to get away with that kind of thing -- some people will stare at you like you've grown a third head no matter what you do. I figure if they're going to stare anyway, then I might as well give them something to stare about. It's not just the dancing either -- half the time I look like a sad new-romantic/punk/rummage-sale fashion victim, spiking up my hair and using ties for belts. Haven't started switching belts for ties yet, but knowing me that's just around the corner, even if I do end up looking like a BDSM* freak. Also, I'd better start ordering in the greasepaint in bulk, in case I decide to go Ziggy Stardust or Marilyn Manson.

*Bondage, Domination, Sado-masochism. Please, for the love of God, don't ask me how I know that. Some stories are better left untold. At least without financial compensation...

And as for the random renditions of "Somewhere Over The Rainbow" on crowded streets...well, don't get me started. Believe me, my girlfriend wishes I never had. I seem to be taking more after my dear old parents day after day, spending all my time GBM.* So, if you hear an out-of-tune lunatic mangling Judy Garland songs in Shanghai, just blame the parents.

*getting back marbles. You know, the ones I lost...

In other rhythm-related news I was dragged onto stage in my favourite Xinjiang restaurant last night to boogie solo with the dancing girl. Having no idea how to copy their style of Bollywood-slash-belly dancing I made a complete asshat of myself. Still, all publicity is good publicity. In yet more gettin'-down-related news (my thesaurus is running out of synonyms for 'dance') I may be joining a Flamenco* class. Hey, it's something to do, and if the occasion arises that I'm forcibly dragged onto stage in a Latin bar, at least I'll be able to survive the embarrassment without too much emotional scarring.

*Not in fact a type of bird, which a lot of locals get it confused with

Forgive the footnotes -- I'm going through a phase of irrational aversion to brackets.