I personally think dancing is highly therapeutic, however you do it. As far as I know it’s not well studied, if at all, but I know I’ve read African survivors of severe traumas saying dancing with their people did more than small armies of “trauma experts”.
And I don’t know how the rest of the world is, but it seems around here MOST–certainly not all, but a whole lot–of younger folks are not into dancing. We have no dance clubs, and few places where much dancing goes on that would not be going on next to someones bar or table stool.
Me, I love it. Some of my fondest memories of college are of Brazilian and African (Cabo Verde) dance parties that went on until the sun came up and everyone went out to breakfast. Good times.
So get yourself a dance club on Amazon.
Pour lots of liquor and play great music that is not hip-hop (old school soul–James Brown and Johnnie Taylor certainly–disco, and a good mix of maybe Samba, Salsa, Soca, and jazz), then do a breathalyzer on everyone leaving when the State (Ordnung Ueber Alles) tells you people have to leave the bars and warm their beds.
Everyone who flunks EITHER has to have 1) a Designated Driver they can identify; 2) use a cab (yes, cab); or 3) sleep on a cot in a tent you provide out back. Out back you have a little ad hoc bohemian community of drunks sleeping in tents. You have bathrooms, water fountains with small amounts of electrolytes in them, and security guards who you have validated to be emotionally healthy, empathetic, caring people.
And when they wake up, you give them breakfast, if they can pay. And if most of them can pay, you say fuck it for a few. Everybody has breakfast together, hung over, but happy-ish.
That would be fun, wouldn’t it? The Security guards keep the “sausages”–in a phrase I’ve heard in the last week, as in “sausage fest”–under wraps. Everyone is safe. Everyone can pass out in peace, puke in peace, pee in peace, and wake up to, in my preferred version, something like the Irish Breakfast, with suitable substitutions as options. Not everyone is good with black pudding.
Hibiscus Tea and Yogurt.
Here is the thing: all of us–and by this, I mean ALL OF US–need to lose control sometimes. We need spontaneity, craziness, letting it loose.
And when we do, we need reintegration. And we need, OBVIOUSLY, to not hurt anyone when we go crazy. If you are crazy, there needs to be someone in the area around you who is not.
I like to think I could pull something like this off at some point, but if one of you out there wants to lead the way, that will make easier for me eventually. If not, well, I’m used to being the only one saying whatever it is I happen to be saying.