Dancing Robin Hood

Does no one know where I’m going, I hope no one knows where I’m going. I know no one knows what’s on my ipod and that’s good. No one knows or even guess that this mild mannered company man is actually…THE DANCING OUTLAW *theme music that is of course suitably danceable.* Yes! It’s shocking to think that you too could be riding the train and that man you’re sitting next to could be…THE DANCING OUTLAW! And you would never know it. You can’t see my sparkling costume cleverly concealed under my suit. You can’t feel the techno or trans or classical or rock or hip hop or jazz or whatever pumping though my headphones. The source of my power. That’s a secret, dear readers, please don’t tell my arch nemesis The Keisatsukan!!!!!

Dance, my one true love and passion, the way to liberate all of Japan from the cares and worries and uniforms and obligations is illegal, forbidden in parts of our beloved country. In clubs and bars the music plays but people stand and at most dare to sway a little. But in some daring, underground locations, my Sherwood forest if you will, people dance with abandon! Led of course by me, THE DANCING OUTLAW!!! One moment we are leading carefully choreographed gyrations to Lady GaGa’s “Bad Romance” and the next moment we may chose to perfectly execute only the most glorious of Viennese Waltzes. And in that moment of dance there are no gaijin, no sarariman, no parasite signals, they are all my dancing merry men and we dance until the Keisatsukan come to disperse our merry band and fine the owner an exorbitant sum. Come the dance revolution I will put the Keisatsu on trial and fine them for not dancing.

You may ask, my gentle readers, how I became THE DANCING OUTLAW. The question itself is laughable. One does not become THE DANCING OUTLAW. One is born that way. It’s like being in the imperial family. No one would think to ask the Emperor how he became Emperor. The answer would simply be the just is and so I am. I do not have blood in my veins but pure music. My pulse is rhythm and my voice is a melody so that if need be I can be and feel my own music. Music is everywhere and anywhere there is music there is dance. So dance should be everywhere. Think of how much better the world could be if instead of sitting in meetings bowing and exchanging business cards, we started the meeting off with some break dancing and then the kenchos would begin an intricate pas de deux. And then I would no longer be THE DANCING OUTLAW but the Dancing King. And then maybe someone will write a song about me. Instead of ABBA I would like a collaboration between musicians from every continent and I would like dancers from every school and even those who simply dance around their apartment to pay me tribute monthly with a dance.

But I must keep it all inside now. No, the train is not the right place yet. As of now the train is just a collection of bodies. But oh, lovely indulgent readers, how I long ot take the bodies standing close together and encourage them to touch, to dance. I want to pull the obaa-chan up from her priority seat and send her tango-ing with that middle school student who looks like he’s trying to crawl inside his backpack. Or maybe have that gaggle of school girls imitate the back up dancers from a Backstreet Boys video. As for me I would like to do something experimental, Cunningham-ish maybe. Of couse I know who he is, I am THE DANCING OUTLAW, and I know all of dance and the dance of the future too. I am not who you think I am Hiroshima, and I am coming for you…once I get off this train! *end theme music*
Keisatsukan-policemen
Gaijin- outsider/nonJapanese person
Sarariman- salary man, those guys in suits on trains who work crazy hours
Obaa-chan- grandma/older woman

This story takes a turn for the silly but is a bit more reminiscent of what I love about this project. A part of this project is to realize that people’s lives and struggles are both unique and similar to our own at the same time. The other half is the pure fun of speculating about someone’s life, particularly in a rather absurd way. The man who inspired this story was on the Kabe line with me one night on my way back from Mitaki. He was tapping his feet and to me it looked like he was really into the music. He also looked like a Japanese version of Gaius Baltar so I took some notes. But the story about him didn’t come to me until 3 months later in the middle of the teachers meeting. I know it keeps me up at night knowing that THE DANCING OUTLAW is somewhere in Hiroshima city…DANCING!?!?!?! And yes, dancing is technically illegal due to a loophole in Japanese law from what I’ve read. Hiroshima seems to be one of the few places that enforces it. Clubs get raided because people are dancing. Lack of dance saddens me.