...and not in reality. Whenever I think of going back to New York, I realize that the phantom image that reality has yet to completely disabuse me of still exists as a mediating force.
In other words: here's the dramatic reversal to Guliani and Bloomberg's policing policy wrought by the new "socialist" mayor. Or not.
I'll admit it... I wasn't always in the mood. Especially in the morning (though, really, it was only ever preachers in the morning). But even when I felt vaguely annoyed, when I had to pause my conversation or my numb staring at the floor after another day of exploitation, I always supported the dance.
Read the comments section. See the fear, the "freedom from", the outdated conceptions, the veiled classism and racism, the self-regarding aesthetic critiques, the denizens of what was once the most vibrant city in the world looking to lock all creativity into those mausoleums of "culture" from which no ideas escape. All that you take from others is all that you deny yourself. To hate the dancers is to admit you'll never dance yourself.
2 comments:
I read those comments. Now I'm rather depressed. Organised and packaged "fun" is here!
i agreed with the two most popular comments - do it on the street, where people can come and go and there's enough space you can be sure someone won't be injured accidentally
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