Hearthammer

Ziggy got up on the stage and clapped his hands for attention–a move that by then I realized he’d picked up from Josie, who’d no doubt learned it from some other dance teacher or choreographer or theater person, carrying on back through generations. Anyway, it worked.
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Don’t Cry

[Reminder folks that the DGC half-time for the summer starts next week. I’ll still be posting on Tuesdays, which means Thursdays are open for fan posts. Share a playlist, guest post about anything DGC-related from music to LGBT rights, fanfic, fan art, video, songfic, songs, you name it. I could also use some volunteers to handle the posting? Email daron.moondog@gmail.com if interested in helping out! -ctan]

Okay, up and at ’em. These words played through my head. They might have sounded a bit like Remo’s voice saying them.

I heeded them. I crawled out of bed to make the alarm stop, and then I crawled–literally–into the bathroom and got into the shower.
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Words

Don’t laugh when I tell you the thing that made me feel instantly better was playing some music.

I know. I know. This is the thing, though. I didn’t know how long that feeling would last because if I pushed too hard or went too long I knew what was going to potentially happen was my hand would seize up and, to paraphrase Han Solo, that would put an end to the trip real quick.
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Pressure

By dinner time the dancers had been released for the evening and we’d made some strategic and logistical decisions. For example, we cut a song from the final segment of the set and moved it to the encore.

That took a tiny bit of the pressure off me, but only a tiny bit. Considering that we made that decision while I was soaking my hand in a bucket of epsom salts, every minute helped.
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Tighten Up

(Saturday post! Enjoy! -ctan)
Flip, approaching from behind me, smacked me on the back. He waggled the granola bar in his other hand like a dog biscuit. As he came around to see my face though, his jocular demeanor changed. “You alright?”

“No,” I said. Continue Reading »

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Sexuality

There was one huge thing that I had not thought about at all in the weeks leading up to our departure for South America. I knew there were a lot of things floating around in my head that I had crammed to the back because I didn’t have the bandwidth to think about them. I had a sense of those things pressing on me but I had to keep them at bay because there were more immediate things hammering my brain every minute of every day getting ready for this show.

Some of you have probably thought of it already, though. I’ll give you a hint: I barely had the bandwidth to deal with even a fraction of the emotional stuff going on between me and Ziggy. Family stuff, interpersonal stuff, other people-related stuff therefore was well outside the realm of my dealability.
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No One Can

I woke up in the morning with Ziggy attached to me like a starfish.

“When was the last time you got off?” he asked.

The ceiling was a different color of white from the walls. Had I never noticed that before? “Um. A while ago…?”
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Shades of Rhythm

“Deja vu all over again.” The studio was lit only by consoles and equipment, and the dark felt cozy rather than threatening. Jordan flicked on the main lights as I dropped myself into one of the secondhand armchairs tucked in a corner of the control room.
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Feel Every Beat

When it was just me and Chris and Bart there, the Hangar seemed extra vast.

We left our instruments and sat down together in the break room. “I have a confession to make,” I said. “I haven’t had a single brain cell to put towards this pretty much since we recorded that demo with Trav.”
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The Man With the Child in His Eyes

We stayed until nearly nine that night, which for the dancers was a very long day and for my hand was the longest day yet. At the end of it, though, after the dancers had been sent home, Mickey and I and Ziggy sat down and agreed we didn’t have to cut anything.
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