Frank Chu is a strange guy and I don’t mean strange in a bad way. I mean he is one of the many characters that creates the tapestry that makes the Bay Area what it is.
There are rumors of Chu taking his family hostage and having a standoff with police before assuming the character in glasses and with sign we now know him as.
And the guy showed up at an underground party I was hooping at — imagine that.
… … … … …
It was another Saturday afternoon that promised another Saturday night party full of friends. And that premise created another internal back-and-forth between leave the hoop or take the hoop to the party.
I had decided not take the hoop; since at this point in my hoop life, it feels like any time I take a hoop with me I have expectations projected onto me from the crowd. Plus there are the expectations I would be projecting on myself as a “hooper.” Better off to leave the hoop and the anxious mental back-and-forth that comes with it at home.
The Universe however, (or perhaps I was looking for an excuse) had different plans.
In a conversation with a friend about Röyksopp, I mentioned that one of my favorite songs to hoop to is by them. It’s called “Sparks,” its a beautiful dreamy downtempo song with a singer that makes me think of music from the 1920s.
This prompted my friend, The Captn’, who also was DJ’ing at the party to add this song to his DJ set list. And he told me to bring my hoop down. I could’ve not have, but a friend genuinely offered me a place in his set and it was awesome. I wouldn’t/couldn’t say no to that.
And so it began, “What do I wear?” “Oh my god, I haven’t hooped in a month!” “Shit my ass looks super fat.” “This outfit doesn’t support my tits, but it’s so cute” “Faux fur boot covers?”
With all that figured out and a fully charged hoop, I was on my way to the party.
It was a beautiful set-up, the party was pretty. There was an upstage area where dancers dressed in burlesque outfits were shakin’ it to the first DJ. I checked out more of the place and found friends around every corner.
After the ritual meet and greet, I went off to a corner to hoop and warm-up: out of the crowdview in the back of the venue space. I garnered some “oohs and aahs” while I was at it. When I finished, I saw that the dancers from the upstage were gone. “Ooh an opportunity,” my brain said. I eventually found the promoter of the party, pictured here with Frank Chu, and asked if I could hoop up there. She said, “Yes.”
Up to stage I go, navigating a narrow curvy staircase with my hoop in my hand. And then when I get up there, there is a dancer up there. Well I would hate to ask them to move and I just got up there so it would be lame to just go back down. I start dancing.
“Sparks” by Röyksopp. Slightly different then album version
Vodpod videos no longer available.
I’m shaking my arse, in my black faux fur boot covers, and black nightie. All my friends on the floor cheered! When I finish dancing, (I want to conserve energy for hooping ) I get so many positive comments from friends and strangers about what I just did.
“I didn’t know you could do that.”
“Eds your my hero”
The same story was repeated, “When I first looked up there, there was only this skinny chick, barely dancing. And then I look up there and see you up there shakin’ your ass, blowing that chick away.” What fantastic feedback. Mind you, I wasn’t dancing to show anyone off. I just like dancing in the spotlight.
After a bit of a wait, the stage has cleared and I am back up there, this time to hoop. It’s crazy. I haven’t even began to hoop yet and the crowd is a hootin n’ hollerin. I dance with the hoop, do some isolations — the LED lights aren’t even on, and I get more love. Then I turn on the hoop’s lights and begin performing. I feel a wave of dance induced spiritual energy coming at me. I always feel it when there is a great DJ, an awesome party atmosphere, and a crowd that’s into what you’re doing.
I’m dancing, I’m posing, I’m watching for the space limitations I got. I’m channeling my inner Gwen Stefani from her No Doubt days (Don’t Speak style). I’m showing my “girl balls.” It’s wicked fun. I give until I can. I’m absorbing the energy of the crowd and the music from a fantastic set by Bam of Evil Breaks.
I finally stop and turn off my hoop. I get such a cheer from the crowd that I must pay them some respect. They were awesome; I was Awesome (with a capital “A”); Bam was awesome, party was awesome. I bow-in to the crowd and leave the stage; Time to do some soft hooping to “Sparks” in the second room.
Hey. You want to hear the first DJ set? CLICK HERE
I couldn’t figure out the space I needed when I was hooping on my feet, there were too many things I was worried about hitting. So I kindly asked people to clear a small space around the platform I was on and I hooped on my knees. It totally worked! I rocked the platform on my knees, hooping on the waist and shoulders and rocking it around the neck. At some point I remember being on my back and foot hooping.
The fun part was the crowd though. Because when I went down on my knees (as a final resort from not being able to find my space on my feet) I could sense this collective gasp like “wow.” That’s right dammit, I was determined to get my hoop on and I did by any means necessary. *fist pump
Performer Eds: Hey you’re doing a show this Sunday, the 14th.
Recluse Eds: What?
Performer Eds: A show, ya know? You go out and do that thing labeled “hoopdance?” You’ll be doing it at Eco-Holiday this Sunday in SF.
Recluse Eds: I don’t do that, go away. Want to stay inside
Performer Eds: Liar. You know you’ve been pissy since you haven’t been performing.
Recluse Eds: True. I am a spotlight whore. What do I need to know?
Performer Eds: Well you’ll performing at 6 and Beats Antique will be playing. You need to get yourself a costume.
Recluse Eds: Oh crap, another costume.
Performer Eds: That’s right, another costume.
Recluse Eds: Thanks Performer Eds.
Performer Eds: You are welcomed.