Tags: dancing

hair syrup curl

A fake dad's phone message.

Richard called while I was out with Mary Dougherty learning to drive, but my phone was at home, so I got this message:

"Hey, Mackenzie, this is your fake-dad calling. I am in Oregon, dancing away, contra and zydeco, and I've been dancing with this young woman, who is maybe, 1 or two years older than you, and I think you would totally fall in love with her if you had the chance to meet her. I told her the same about you. So, you can call me back if you want, and I can tell you more about her. Her name is Katie, she lives in Portland."

My order of thoughts went: 1) Why is he telling me this, this is so random, portland is far away. 2) Aww, thats sweet, he is actually acknowledging that I'm bi. That's kind of awesome. that makes him so much more worthy of fake fatherhood. 3) Why did I not know about this dance weekend? this sounds awesome! zydeco! 4) *visions of fun and dacing and zydeco.* It has been so long since I've been to a dace weekend.

I guess I might call him back. He might know what he is talking about. (I am reminded of cos)


IN OTHER NEWS:

Chapter 3: "Mackenzie drives on Sacramento" - Mary.
Mary has this habit of narrating when I do something awesome and new: Mackenzie drives stick shift and Mackenzie drives in third.

I drove home from North Berkeley Bart, and around in that neighborhood a bit, with signaling and shifting into 3rd a lot, and only turning on a windsheild wiper once, and stopping to find the horn to honk at a raven eating something out of the middle of the street (the raven, not me), and not hitting J-walking pedestrians, and giving ride of way and all sorts of nfty law-abiding. Stick-shift is a great way to be sure you are not exceeding the speed limit, to a degree.

I also did a smidgen of parallel parking, and actually did two three point turns on city streets.

I made one guys day by waiting for him to cross the parking lot before he even got out of a different crosswalk and over the barracade toward the next area. He was laughin up a storm quite amiably, and me, needing to respond somehow or another while sitting there, put my moose ear antlers up the apples of my cheeks and wiggled my fingers. He laughed harder, and said, "Thank you for making my day!" Mary and I were laghing up a storm too. She likes to laugh so we were laughing a lot of the time, at, things the WERE genuinely quite funny. Like honking at the raven. It didn't understand horn, mary said, maybe it understands car. It did. I inched up a foot and it fluttered away.

BUt hey, AWESOME!

p.s. the two of us are such nerds that we sing while we are driving. Mary matches the cars pitches, like a kid with a toy car (or she did when she was learning), and I make sound effects.
hair syrup curl

Stars in blue and cold air, hearts drawn on windows.

Mood wise I have been depressed, but calculus calms me and dancing makes me happy again for a while.
It was a good idea to go dancing, I was pulled out of a bad funk. Music, plodding my feet to the beat, and being silly.
However, I WAS happy for orchestra, being orchestra, it just didn't last long enough. And before that, I was content.
All things considered, its all right. I was very silly tonight, with yoshi. Both full of goof.
(On a side point, I wasn't very feminine tonight, and everything I did was for me, not to flirt.)

Riding home at night on my bike is amazing. There are only a few cars, and new air and stars and wonderfulness. I came accross ohlone park and stopped to climb a structure and watch my shadow. The structure was beautiful in its contrast with the dark sky- the street light light it up and gave it depth.
I enjoy having balance, and can just climb all over a wet slippery thing, as long as I feel safe I am.

As I continuead home, I coasted, and for a few blocks I drew hearts in the condensation of the windows of cars.

The night is beuatiful, godly gods.
hair syrup curl

"lets see if we can drive sanely" - Phil

"I think it's just force of habit now to make Mackenzie shaped holes when I sit." -Riva.
That touches my heart with a soft, caressing hand. Its hard to get used to being valued, and expected. People not only don't mind my company, they often seek it out, oh wow, and are even used to it! (how do I express the resulting emotion in one word? Yay.)

Collapse )
I love to hear the sound of the birds morning, Its beautiful to lay comfortably half awake, and smell the sound of the birds and the grey dawn colored light. Its as beautiful as deep silent chimes, maybe underwater, or translucent magenta. The pure meaning of peace and tranquility is 5 in the morning with nowhere to be and a nice dream still going on the threshold of consciousness. I was aware for a while of both the dream world and reality: My own solid soft body and the theoretical existence around it, which I consider not solid, as I sense it, but am not it. So, This caused My dream self to become a bird. (oh, the sweet bird girl, I cannot claim her as my own. One always does say, If you love a bird, set it free?)

I had a very nice, well loved day today. When I woke up, some where between ten and noon, my mom was speculating as to whether any friends would visit me today. I expected not and wished she would change subjects so I wouldn't get my hopes up. Shortly there after, Noltango paid a surprise visit. Oh that was so happy.Collapse )I hope he didn't mind, I just had to kick him out because I wanted to take advantage of my rare ambition, and sew some. A bit later, Freya paid a visit (they are always in clusters!). Collapse )
Around late evening, 7ish or 7:30, Riva called, because she was planning on playing cards with her parents, and her parents wanted to know if I'd join them. I decided to, and had a very nice time playing heart, and seeing Riva again after a week.

All in all, a good day.
hair syrup curl

April 4th 2002

I haven't written in a while because i'm used to writing at school. I've had bunches of fun starting friday. I have bunches to say but I'm aching to go outside because it's spring and flowers are everywhere. I'll write to you tomarrow when I am in the car on the way to my dance weekend*, as long as I dont forget you!

* I used to go to contra dance weekends. This one was called fools fest, and was at a place called split tree farm in north georgia. I loved it there- its so pretty.