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The sea is calm

Hello, my name is Zolton and I’m a non-dancer. That’s right, a non-dancer. I choose not to dance for the mental welfare of others, though my inability to shake and roll with the best of them can probably be traced back to the Id, the Ego; that darn voice that sits somewhere at the back of my head and reminds me that any inclination to hurl myself about the dancefloor will not go down well in public. So I choose not to. Heck … it’s my party and I’ll sit quietly and observe if I want to. In fact, I propose a coalition of like-minded souls. A union of non-dancers. Together we’ll mope about the fringes of every damn dancefloor, shooting daggers at those loudly dressed cats with their JK moves. And if our feet tap awkwardly in time with the snare, then so be it. We feel the rhythm. We just choose not to express it. Which is not to say I don’t have my outlets. Why is it, for instance, that every time I see the film-clip to Daft Punk’s ‘One More Time’ I want to peel back the screen and join that wonderful anime landscape — to live in their saccharine sweet world with a pet monkey by my side that always has my best interests at heart. Now that’s true friendship. Ah … pure unadulterated escapism. I’d give my kingdom for just ten minutes of the stuff. And while I concede that a barrow full of CDs doesn’t go far these days, I’m sure someone out there will make me an offer I can’t refuse. [painting by Brian Despain]