The sun's highlighting the underside of some of the beams in my living room with a very particular gold right now- it's a just-before-sunset-yellow, and not only has it colored the inside of my apartment, but it's scribbling on the bellies of the clouds outside, too. Riding home from Lakewood this evening, I just barely dodged a short-lived but dedicated thunderstorm, the wispy reminders of which are ambling over downtown now.

I've been listening to a lot of funk lately, which isn't something I know anything about, except for the songs my sister and I used to laugh at during cheesy infomercials for some company's "best of" funk collection. Besides "Jungles Boogie" and "Brick House," though, which still sort of serve only to tickle my funny bone, I'm finding that there are some beats out there that actually get under my skin and make me want to dance. I laugh at titles like "More Bounce to the Ounce," but then I find myself grooving around my living room, hoping in the back of my mind that my roommates don't come in to see me channeling my inner 70's-era superfreak.

And so it is thus that I spend my Friday night, watching the sun (which has stopped spewing its glorious haystack-colored light upon the city and has instead settled into the horizon for a fluorescent pink finale) from indoors, lounging on my floor with my laptop, listening to the indomitable James Brown. I wish there were a dance club in this town that played music like this. I'd be much more inclined to go dancing if the music were this...well, funky. It's hard to feel the groove in music that has none to offer.