Year of the Dance

...and everything is happening at once and for a second it seems like you're helplessly overwhelmed, but then you're standing in your living room, dancing to Patti Smith in your underwear and even though you're completely alone it doesn't seem to matter, all you care about is the pivot.

Step , swing, pivot, repeat.

We don't want to live lives that are better than those of our fathers, we just want to live with the opportunities to fail they've taken from us. It's why we smoke and swear and fuck like we don't know better, it's why we fall back on the step, swing, pivot, repeat while we listen to songs they used to know.

Swivel, swing, stomp, clap.

You're moving too quickly to care about the applications you haven't finished and the ones you chose not to start; too quickly to notice that you're not as aerodynamic as you used to be and you're stirring up a whirlwind of cat hair; far too quickly to notice the horses coming in from all directions.

Horses, horses, horses, horses.

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