Monday, March 20, 2017

Music To Paint Mirror Balls By

This all started when I woke up with these sentences running through my mind: Idle hands are the playground of the Devil. Do you wanna get funky with me? Do you wanna?

Obviously my brain had been taken over in a Disco invasion and I had to paint about it. However, having played Peter Brown's Get Funky With Me about twenty times since then, I've grown tired of it. How about instead of getting funky with Peter, we calm the fuck down and just dance with him?

Well hey, this song reminds me of when I was under-aged and getting into discos in NYC left and right. Seriously-- high schooling 5 days a week and disco-ing 3 days a week and working-- WORKING!!!! at a supermarket-- waaaaaay before I turned 18 much less 21. Reminds me of something. . .

It's Thursday and we don't want to do anything too strenuous, there is school the next day after all. A sit down with a pitcher at The Back Fence while listening to some live guitar music is a fine way to start the weekend. Yeah, when I was 16 the weekend started on Thursday.

The lighting at The Back Fence is so reminiscent of something. . ..

Back in school on Friday no worse for wear because we are immortal. We sang this song at 78 rpms instead of 45 thereby rendering Thelma totally squirrelish.

"That's no moon!"

After school we end up here. Where's here? Why our favorite dance club where everybody knows our names, the beats are familiar and we all can meet at the bathroom to discuss the pickings out on the floor.

This is beginning to be a thing.

Surely this song was an oldie by the time we did The Freak out on the floor but I still remember hearing porn star Andrea True backing up our dance moves with her vocals.

Is it a disco ball or a mirror ball?

Isn't it nice that we made it home in time to get ready to go out? Saturday was the real party night. What is waiting for us out there, girls?


So dark and yet so light.

Are we fakers or are we here to snap our fingers until we put holes in our thumbs?!!


And so the sun comes up and it is now Sunday, the day when we slowly walk the walk of shame in the glaring early morning light with our high heels swinging from our fingers because our feet can't take it anymore.

And we take one final shot at our disco ball, sleep and store up energy for the next weekend ready to store up memories to post about years later.