Tonight, we dance.
Perhaps it was fated that our furnace began to spit flames from its side. Perhaps it’s enough that we feel exhausted and weirdly keen for change, like we’ve all been waiting in a doctor’s waiting room for TWO YEARS in a pool of that time dilation that happens in those god-forsaken spaces. Tonight we need to stand up, masked (or unmasked) like sexy bandits, and have a spazzy meltdown on the floor of our bookshop like spoiled children. The time has come for live music and libation.
You are all invited.
We know the RONA is still out there. We support whatever protection you are comfortable with. Want to wear a mask? Wear one! Don’t want to? Don’t. Haters of either kind will be tossed. Lovers will be embraced (consensually). Dancers will be worshiped, as never worshiped before, and wallflowers will be admired. It is a hard to flower a wall. WE SUPPORT YOUR INDIVIDUATION! Not everyone has it in them to dance at all times. So, if you’re looking to just chill and hang out with smart book people, to chat about subjects rare and beautiful in our back alley, then it shall be so. Remember what hanging out felt like? Neither do we, and our hearts long to remember.
Chiming the beat of our resurrected souls will be the era-specific grind jams of our landlord’s rock band. (This is our life now.) This Dad-Rock outfit sports our bassist landlord, and a tall Scandinavian lady singer that both of us will surely fall in love with. Fortunately, the tesseract that is our marriage can withstand such petty three-dimensional temptations, but music is music, and who can resist retro rock tunes belted out by a Viking? NO ONE CAN! We defy the wall-flowers, having just supported them, to resist nodding approvingly to the music when that horn is blown. Come see it with your own eyes.
Most of all, like a furnace blazing in the night, our broken hearts demand to be patched. They demand recognition for these past two years of sorrow. We offer nothing more than a candelabra lit bookstore at night full of freaky, kind people bobbing or thrusting to the music of yesteryear. Nostalgia, rebirth, Valhalla!–it’s a heady-stew. And we hope you join us, tonight…
…for tonight we dance.
Much love,
Jason and Vanessa
