dance dance dance

so, forget all my philosophical birthday ramblings from yesterday. i really came to china to dance. at least that is what i apparently believed last night. when i may as well have been in monaco for the evening. (and rather impressively managed to make it back in time to talk about human trafficking this morning! (there is some kind of off-colour humour in there somewhere, but i can't quite discern it.)) why was i ostensibly in monaco? because the evening involved cake, champagne, diamonds, and dancing. and also shots of fishy stuff mixed with vodka. sounds disgusting, i know, but it was actually delicious. and possibly my undoing.

actually, my undoing may have begun earlier in the day when, aside from the poetic interlude when i posted about having returned to china for love*, i spent a good portion of the day listening to absolutely filthy horrible awesome fun hiphop and rap. really, it's against all of my principles and if i listen to the lyrics some essential part of my sweet blossom of a soul quivers in terror and shame. the misogyny and the objectification and the straight up dirty sex talk, it's utterly offensive and inexcusable. and yet. sometimes i simply love the beats. so i don't listen to the lyrics. yesterday i chair-danced my way through the work day. (my work wife was out of town so i had the office to myself, allowing sufficient privacy for rocking out.) the theme song of this birthday may be kid cudi's 'make her say'** (his response to lady gaga's poker face. she is even sampled in. and sings. well. who knew?). it is filthy, filthy, freaknasty gross if you listen to what he says. but is awesome. if you haven't heard it, please go listen now.

anyway, the reason all the hiphop may have been my undoing is because, aside from the fishjuice vodka shots (which really were a good idea, i promise) there was a rather dodgy interlude in the evening when i was dressed down and publicly insulted by a jazz singer who was allegedly singing happy birthday to me. not only did he instead sing a song which may or may not have been a love song for sarah palin (it was entitled 'drill baby drill' and i believe those were the only lyrics), but he actually insulted me. more than once. and made me stand by myself in the middle of the club. with crazy lights on me. while he sang the sarah palin song. i'm not even making this up. how could i? i'm creative, but this was beyond my wildest imagination. anyway, when i was asked to give a birthday speech at my birthday dinner, the best i could come up with (after the fishjuice vodka, mind) was: "i will pay cashmoney to anyone who can get the soulful sweet-eyed jazz singer we're about go see to play a cover of 50 cent's 'in da club' in my honour". i consider this speech a marginal improvement over the one i gave at my massive amazing 30th birthday blowout. to wit: "30 is the new 17!" actually, i had first said some very nice meaningful things thanking my wonderful gorgeous fabulous friends and family for all of their love and all the joy they bring to my life and telling everyone how blessed i feel to have them in my life. i still do. feel blessed, that is. even after being abused by a 22-year-old, barefoot, sweaty jazz singer. and drinking fishjuice vodka. but i'll get to that in a moment. i think this jazz singer was upset because maybe one of my friend's actually asked him to play 50 cent. or ani difranco. or both. so he got upset and said he wasn't a jukebox. or something like that. then he made me come to the front and centre of the club and stand below him while he strummed my pain with his fingers and destroyed the alaskan wilderness with his words, all the while glaring at me. (i glared back and calmly sipped my champagne with quiet aggression.) kind of unbelievable.

the only place to go from there was monaco. or, more precisely, the opposite of monaco. xiu. a club at the grand hyatt with a very mediocre band****** that covers all sorts of dance music (including but not limited to hiphop) and a mediocre DJ. but the best to be found in beijing. in any case, what we were really going for was champagne and dancing. we drank a lot of the former and did a lot of the latter. and the band sang a raucous, funkdefied version of happy birthday to me while i rocked out dancing on stage. i was then the star of the club for the night. all in all it was actually nothing like my nights in monaco, when once upon a lifetime i had such things, save for the bottle of moet we opened after midnight. in any case, we had a grand time.

two points to ponder:

1 - the diamonds came into the picture via a very surprising, sweet, generous gift from my crazysexycool beautiful beijing girlfriends. they got me a gorgeous diamond necklace. this was of course so kind and wonderful and overwhelming. but it made me realise that all of the diamonds i presently have come from my grandmother or girlfriends. and for some reason recalled for me the bachelorette-that-wasn't-a-bachelorette that some of my girlfriends threw for me for my 30th birthday. i wonder if slowly all of my girlfriends all over the world are, like my mother, giving up hope that i'll ever get married. so they are stepping up and giving me all the of the trapsings that typically surround that process - diamonds, a hen party, etc. hmmm.

2 - all of the men i danced with last night were gay. in fact a friend of one of my (gay male) friends who was there who i didn't know and came up to dance with me prefaced his approach with "it's ok, i'm gay". this makes me wonder if i really do intimidate every man in beijing. (as was suggested over lunch by a (gay) guy friend the other day.) hmmm. to be fair, there was one single man who was meant to join the party last night. but he got held up with work. or so he said. maybe he was scared.... tehe. that was fun to write. in any case, even if i am intimidating, there is nothing to be done. i can only be me. [speaking of which, take a moment to appreciate the shout out to murakami in the subject of this post.]

and now the moment you've all been waiting for. i shall explain the fishjuice vodka! we had dinner at a lovely new restaurant in beijing. a cevichera (sp?) called terra which focuses on (big surpise) ceviche and peruvian food. all delicious and they couldn't have been better to me on my birthday! the owner, who is also a friend, suggested that she give us vodka shots flavoured with various ceviche juices and fish to accompany the meal. (the flavours included tomato, i think cilantro, and some sort of ayayayayay spicy pepper (loved that one).) we all raised one eyebrow at first and weren't convinced, but decided to be brave. [goethe: whatever you can do, or dream you can do, begin it. boldness has genius, power, and magic in it!] and it was surprisingly delicious. and left me surprisingly and deliciously wasteycakes.

and that is the story of my birthday. go shorty.

31 was kind of a tough year. but i have great expectations for 32. so 32'd better bring it. because i won't stop believing. or dreaming boldly. so i'm ready for the ensuing genious, power, and magic. i'm also always ready to dance.



*a curious, perhaps dubious, proposition i am still contemplating. comments encouraged.

**i was introduced to it by a more culturally in touch friend while back in the us. i also (finally!) have a new ipod and have been downloading all kinds of new music. my previous ipod was held hostage by the ghosts of boyfriends past, so this is really exciting. i also am intending to shake what my momma gave me all over again on saturday. throwing myself a birthday bubbly and cupcakes in the courtyard party (at my place). in a truly astonishing tist of fate, a friend who has an amazing cupcakery here in beijing (check on it: http://www.lollipopbakery.cn/) has come out with a new red bean cupcake just in time for my birthday. SJ,*** this is glorious news. red bean is among that which is sacred to me. and eating red bean is as about as much pleasure as i get these days. in fact, i spoiled myself on birthday eve**** by having a dinner than consisted amost entirely of red bean. bliss.

***SJ = sweet jesus. also, i am not sure it is appropriate to footnote a footnote in a blog post. perhaps i need to reconsider how i structure these profound pieces. then again maybe i'll just continue to do as i please. (go shorty, it's your birthday.)

****day / evening before your birthday. also worth celebrating. as is, i suppose, the day after. i am going to a friend's new pizza place this eve (check baby, check baby, 1, 2: www.gunghopizza.com) where i am promised amazing pies and a delicious new zealand sauvignon blanc. yum. i am also loving all these shout-outs, mjj! (yes, i am talking to myself. if this disturbs you, please see yesterday's self-indulgent yet eloquent post about self-love. rinse. repeat.)

*****lost track of the number of stars here. this post is out of control! ahhh. point about the band - no one should try to cover jay-z's 'empire state of mind'. no one. even the truly amazing unbelievable best band i've ever heard that performed at my dear friend's wedding the other weekend couldn't quite pull it off. so the xiu set was doomed. but they tried. style points for effort anyway.