Sometimes I talk to myself. But, don't we all? I remember a time long ago when I was much younger. I was at a nightclub in Williamsburg, Virginia. The nightclub was located in, or rather, under a hotel. Willamsburg has a college so, of course, the club was frequented by the local college students. I was not a college student. I was already in the military and doing some special operations training in the local area. I was like a wolf, let loose in the hen house.
But, I digress. Let me get back to the story.
This club, being the local college hangout, had all kinds of nighttime activities. The night I was there, they were having, among other things, a "dancing with myself" contest.
Did I mention that I was young and single during this time?
Of course, Billy idol was very popular at the time and his music got lots of airplay. I knew the song well and, although I will never admit it out loud, I may, or may not have danced to the song by myself more than once.
I won the contest. I suppose I did not win through any great measure of skill or dancing abilities, rather, I likely won because I simply had a greater display of uninhibited foolishness than anyone else there. Unlike many of the students in the club, I would not have to face the people in the bar the next day at class.
The prize was a Billy Idol album (and, yes, I mean album - not cassette or CD) and a certificate awarding the recipient a free dinner for one at a local restaurant.
Now, let me regress from the digression after my first digression.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Dancing with Myself
at 5:00:00 AM
I am an old soldier, now reformed to backyard farmer, writer, blogger and aviation systems trainer. Although working on it, I've yet to earn the title of gentleman.
Things that interest me? Writing in numerous genres but mostly suspense, science fiction (speculative) and mystery. Outside of my full-time job, I love everything to do with aquaponic gardening and suburban homesteading. I often blog or post youtube videos about these subjects along with updates on my small typewriter collection, rants about our world's current state of affairs, surviving a zombie apocalypse or the antics of my backyard chickens.