frogirl1000

When the first guests arrived the hardwood was a light honeyed oak. The patrons stood in droves around its outer edges, leaning their light silk chiffon layers and velvet tuxes against the papered walls, forming a second layer that became a fantastic wallpaper, a lining of Gatsby’s grand ballroom upon which was depicted the most exotic fashions of the moment. Soon after the orchestra paraded into the room. As a gentle breeze wafted through the enclosure, propelled further by the breath of loquacious women, the notes surrounded the room, rising in strength until it reached fortissimo, all the while men were drawing their partners out into the room and dancing wildly as the first song came to a crescendo then, as the music reached its loudest point, it stopped.
Fantastic shapes appearing only as blurs of color to the twirling figures peeled off the edges of the room and assumed the jitterbug position as the boundary that had been imposed before the dancing now (as it encompassed the area and activity the majority were partaking in) reversed to enclose the center of the room. The room appeared to be a hive of agitated hornets, the dancers were moving about as rapidly as the stinging creatures, dashing about to the quick buzz of a violin. When this second fast-paced boogie ended the orchestra played a less fashionable two-step. Dedicated couples slowly promenaded about, gazing ravenously into each others eyes, while the pairings hat had been hastily created for the last two cavortings by men and women that had come as singles broke apart and drifted away to the balcony or to mingle with new eligible ones at the bar.
True conversations now ripened, beginning as a low murmur then growing up and up as the volume and level of intrigue bloomed. Passionate discourse enveloped young twenty-somethings in tubular, beaded gowns and wide-legged trousers with bulky cuffs over the proposed prohibition that was even now passing through congress. A different faction was taking advantage of the time left before the prohibition went into place. They were looked down on by the first faction for becoming drunk all at once, while the first ones preferred to leisurely sip at their mixed drinks as complex as they would believe their chatter to be. By the end of the night the two groups would be recognized equally as being the most inebriated, but for the time being they preferred to sever all connections.
The largest group, one that wasn’t exclusive of any coterie, was constructed of men attempting to court desirable young women and then, as the number of songs that had been played without a dancing partner, and the number of drinks that had been consumed increased, any young woman. The majority of these men reposed upon soft chaises in living rooms adjacent to the ballroom. They were having introverted conversations among themselves, so inebriated that they would only repeat the same idea over and over, and, in the same manner as when sober, refuse to adapt to anyone else’s contributions. Youthful ladies lay on plush, pungent burgundy carpets and studied the floral maze on the wallpaper or lightly dozed off in an oblivious man’s arms.
“Have you read the Times lately?” drifted about the room, seeking anyone bait enough to hook onto the inevitable saga it was preluding. Not finding a particular audience the tale poured out over the entire room “Did you know I wrote a column for them one year. It was on stocks and finances, though I got to go to quite a few upscale parties, you know, nothing the size of this one…” someone attempted to interrupt but only managed to get as far as, “The Times only prints old, stuffy hogswash. Now, I’ve started a little side project, a paper that really prints-” before someone, as if his words were a cue would jump in with a new dynamic to the subject. After a polite amount of time these occurrences ceased to yield any present speakers and the voices blended together into a peaceful background hum.
As unassuming daylight began to seep through the thick drapes the men turned their eyes to the delicate French panes, blinking stupidly in confusion. Attention was then paid to the orchestra, still plucking away at low, harmonious melodies that, at this hour and in this state of mind, became indistinguishable from one another. Couples appeared on the dance floor, softly waltzing in place, dragging their heavy soles and tattered slippers across the gleaming wooden planks. The floor was crowded to its very limits with swirling sleepers as the last song petered out. The crowd slowly left; through the door, down the hall, past the grand entranceway and down the drive, just in time to putter away as the lip of the sun became visible over the horizon. The abandoned ballroom softly echoed the whisper of wind as the huge Romanesque drapes refused to flap in the breeze. The soft glow illuminated the weathered walls and the spots of liquor and ash dusting everything. The oak floor was no longer a gleaming golden color, but was now polished with the matte scuffs of the soles of hundreds of dress shoes. As the last guest wandered out of a living room in a daze the room seemed to light up, as if it needed to make a magnificent impression on every soul to enter its spacious berth, but the man was too tired to notice. As the final patron exited the room the glow subsided and as the last treasured foot left the floor the quality that had made it fit for dancing left and it was shown in its true nature. The hardwood was a matte, scuffed oak.

frogirl1000

Why dost thou ignoreth me, when my heart longs so for a humble response to all the meager talent i am able to offer in this world. If i recieve not even a scrap of your attention, i fear i may go to waste, my introverted praise turned away, my ego absolutely shattered, and any pompous notions I had of myself completely assimilated.

mlrmusic08

hey, it's good but it looses my attention like it lags on.

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Famous Quotes by my teacher.

"Writing Is Rewriting"

"DJTUSU" (dont' just tell us show us)

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