Let’s face it, getting old sucks. It sucks harder than a room full of Hoovers or MAGAs. One of the things that growing older does is it slows you down, makes it harder to move. We become sendentary.

I imagined myself for a time, looking like Christopher Walken at the end of the “Weapon of Choice” video by Fatboy Slim. Just sitting there and sighing. And my life reflected that attitude.

I was in a rut, a continual cycle of work and come home, spending my nights on the couch after dinner zombified by the television for hours before going to bed. It drove me to despair, and life losing a lot fo meaning.

Thankfully, I did something about it. I went to therapy, got some drugs, including hormone therapy. And then, I blew up my home life, which spiraled me down even further. I was lost, torn and unsure what to do next.

I found out about a Retro Goth night at Mad Planet in Milwaukee. I hadn’t been out dancing in years, in at least a decade. SO I went, unsure of how it was going to go. And guess what happened.

I danced my ass off that night. Johnny and the Goth Barge crew played stuff I hadn’t heard in decades. It was a night of sweat and catharsis. And it made me realize what I’d been missing.

Movement, dear readers. Movement and rhythm. Dancing brought me out of the depths of despair. Dancing in a community of strangers and people who would become friends soon, I found myself again.

There’s the lesson for today. In the words of Ludacris, Move, bitch! Don’t stop moving. There was a woman in a wheelchair grooving when I went back. I think communal dancing, even in small groups, is a ritual that’s good for the soul. Doesn’t matter what kind of music you like. Square dance if that’s your jam. But being all cooped up all the time sitting with just the screen isn’t good for you.

If you start dancing, you find your rhythm. Your heart rate lowers and you feel better. And you learn what you don’t like, and remember what you do. For the love of the gods, don’t age gracefully. I started dying my hair different colors and painting my nails again. If I hadn’t gone out that night, I don’t know how the last 8 9 months would have turned out. I would have surrendered to the ennui, I think. I never would have met the amazing people I’ve met along the way. And I wouldn’t have found love again.

People are going to read this and be unhappy. They’ll say how dare in the middle of all my issues I talk about happiness. I would tell them this:

Get a grip. Life is precarious in this country. We’re int he middle of a revolution/takeover/whatever you want to call it, it isn’t good. It’s so easy to give in to despair. Whatever joy we can get, take it, so long as it doesn’t hurt anybody. And if your world changing revolution means I can’t get my groove on every now and then on a weekend or any night, then I don’t want it. Emma Goldman had it down, baby. Good night.