seiberwing

I went out walking in the botanical gardens with Theo yesterday and apparently it's taught my fingers how to write again.

( Where We Went, What We Found There, and What Was Strange About It. )

I took cutiebirdgal down to the mall, and after getting quite perplexed by the bus system we made our way back downtown, laden with either goth clothes or Transformers (yay super-soaker Megatron). They were having something going on in Pritchard Park, as they usually do on weekends and holidays and whenever the heck they feel like it. For the record, the park's vaguelly triangular, about the length of three buses, and vaguely shaped like an amphtheater with a bit of tree and bench on the side.

This time, they had a DJ and some stereos blaring random drum/techno music (that's about the only way I could describe it). It was freezing, admittedly; forty farenheit and that's not even counting the windchill, but there were at least twenty people dancing in the square in the middle of the park, of varying ages and in varying strange costumes. There wasn't a set dancing style; there was a guy in a blue and silver robe gesturing about as if he was having some sort of minor convulsion and no one seemed to care. There was even one of the legion of Asheville children who seem to exist only to get carried about and look completely adorable, running around with arms out like an airplane.

I wound up going down to dance with them, because one feels a lot less nervous about one's dancing skills when one is sharing a dance floor with a man with a mining light on his head and the hem of his wedding dress hiked up so he doesn't get it caught in his rollerblades. It put things in perspective.