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Snobby, Elitist, Grumpy Old Lady Fights Back!!!

Okay, who are all of these people who continuously invade my neighborhood every Halloween?? Grumpy old lady has a very oily t-zone and desperately needs to buy more face wipes, which she knows are conveniently located right at the counter! Grumpy old lady pays a damn lot of money to live on the upper-west-side and does not have the time or energy to stand in line behind a bunch of teenagers waiting to shop for Halloween costumes! Grumpy old lady wants to be able to walk into her neighborhood Rickys, go up to the counter, and buy her blasted face wipes. Grrrrrrrrrr…..

Seriously, I just got back from seeing Twyla Tharp’s “The Times They Are a Changin‘” and have to agree with all of the reviews. For me, I think the problem was in the whole conceptualization of it from the get-go. I’m not a huge Dylan fan, but I just don’t see how the goings-on behind a traveling circus act reflect or symbolize his body of work. Reviewers said she was too literal with what is essentially poetry that defies narrative. Maybe… but I think she could have organized his music into SOME kind of over-arching story — like guys going to Iraq, some kind of inner-city turmoil — some relevant social crisis of today I think would have spoken better to his ouevre — just not discontent within a circus show. Like, when they broke out into ‘Blowin’ in the Wind’ I just wanted to laugh. Because of the history of the song, it seemed kind of like she was comparing the circus owner’s mistreatment of some of his underlings to the atrocities of Vietnam. Maybe she just didn’t want to repeat her ‘Movin’ Out’ theme or be too ‘political.’ And it’s not that mistreatment of performers or father-son rivalry can’t ever speak to the human condition, but it needs to go a lot deeper than this. Also, for a so-called ‘Dancical,’ there wasn’t much dancing… a lot of great floor acrobatics, but not a lot of dancing; it was more like a basic musical. Still, I think she’s one of the most brilliant choreographers today — anyone’s entitled to a misjudgment now and then!

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Marcelo Gomes = the Consummate Sinatra

Marcelo Marcelo Marcelo! Marcelo Gomes was soooooo amazingly wonderful last night in Tharp’s “Sinatra Suite” (performed by ABT, whose City Center season I have now been to four times in only … a little over a week now?…) He was the best Sinatra yet — and I’ve NEVER liked ANYONE better in any role than Jose Carreno. I think Marcelo excels in parts where he can really ACT as well as dance his big huge heart out! He really got into the role, and it showed, and not just to me, little Miss Mad Crazed Crush-Ridden Marcelo Fan; the whole audience — at least in orchestra — was ooohing and aaahing throughout, so he OBJECTIVELY rocked! And he knew it: during curtain call, he emerged from the stage with a leap (albeit a tiny one) — the first dancer I’ve seen to do that during this relatively low-key season. I guess dancers know when they’re on and when the crowd is really into them and when they can get away with hamming it up 🙂 Interestingly, he danced with the same ballerina as Jose did, Luciana Paris, and Marcelo worked so much better with her. So weird how two dancers sometimes do not form a good partnership even if both are excellent separately…

AND, I sat next to a fun gay man. Great night for that since the evenings’ works consisted of: 1) cute shirtless guy (David Hallberg), cute shirtless guy (Max Belotserkovsky), cute shirtless guy (Angel Corella), in ‘Clear’; 2) cute shirtless guy (Jose), in ‘Afternoon of a Faun’; 3) gorgeous dapper gentleman / sleek sexy bastard Marcelo, doing Sinatra; and 4) three cute macho-shithead sailor-guys (Jose again, Sascha Radestsky, and Isaac Stappas — I think?), in ‘Fancy Free’… Gay guy and I were moaning and groaning and sighing and giggling in ALL THE SAME places 🙂 He he he he; silly fun!

I did realize with all the shirtlessness, however, that David and Jose seem to be more built than the others — perhaps a reason why they seem to have an easier time with the lifts…

Speaking of which … In other news (ie: my own life), on Wednesday night, I did my first real overhead lift! 🙂 ! With Jacob! He he he he he… Fun, and scary, but not really as frightening as I would have thought. Of course, he didn’t really tell me he was going to hoist me up high and lock his elbows once I was sitting on his shoulder — I thought his shoulder was as far up as I was going, but maybe it was better that way, so I couldn’t prepare to freak out. And I felt totally secure in his hands! But, seriously, I really really really need to get rid of the spaghetti factor. You have to make your own line up there; his hands are only holding you in two small places, and if you’re a spaghetti and can’t hold your own form, you’re, at best, not going to look very good, and, at worst, are going to fall. So, it is high time to get some real strength in my little piddly body! I do miss Luis (miss his sneaking up behind me in the deli adjacent to the studio making me check out some guy he thought was hot, miss his exposing me to all manner of new things with his unique names for some of our mishaps — ie: teabagging, and I miss our mad fun butt-smacking, boob-shaking, body-rolling, ball-busting routine…). But I think Jacob and I will work really well together, and I’m excited to get started on my next theater arts showcase, which we can possibly turn in to a competition show piece (if I have any money left to pay comp fees, that is…). He has a background in ballet and jazz, and was a former national cheerleader, so definitely knows lifts (obviously; he can lift a spaghetti after all 🙂 ) Now, I just have to decide what style of dance to do?….

One final thought: I found Jerry Springer’s reaction upon being booted off ‘Dancing With the Stars’ very interesting. He was expecting to get kicked off, but he actually cried when asked to give his little going-away speech. As did Rachel Hunter. And Stacy Keibler gave a sweet farewell speech about fulfilling her dance dreams “like every little girl who’s ever put on a pair of ballet slippers or tap shoes”… It’s remarkable to me how everyone takes this kind of dancing so seriously — I mean, it’s not at all like anyone’s trying to be a drama queen; it all seems completely honest and heart-felt. And I totally understand, as do all of my ballroom friends, I’m sure. It’s inexplicable, but for some inscrutable reason, it’s a genuinely big deal to learn to dance, and to dance well, as an adult…

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"God is the Man With the Greatest Sense of Humor in the Universe"

Took a break today from outlining my oral argument for court tomorrow to see the movie I think (I hope anyway) is going to take all the Oscars this year, “Running With Scissors.” It’s one of my favorite contemporary books and, as always, I was very dubious going into the theater. But, wow, did writer-director Ryan Murphy do justice to Burroughs’s book or what?! He did a bit of reworking so that the story would have more of an overall arc (and not so comprised of random bits of events), expounded on some characters and side-stories, and threw in some killer dialog, but overall it’s the same story as the book. And Augusten does a little cameo at the end during credits 🙂 The film also evinces (my favorite lawyer word 🙂 ) the power of amazing acting. Film ends up centering around the mother, played by Annette Bening, instead of main character Augusten, Jill Clayburgh creates much more depth, pathos and sympathy in a character in whom all that was lacking in the book, and, finally, OH MY GOD Joseph Fiennes completely blew me away with his portrayal of the schizophrenic statutory rapist who figures only in passing in the book. Took me practically the entire movie to figure out who it was behind that Village People-esque handlebar moustache, but once I remembered seeing his name in the write-up, I had to laugh to myself; I knew it took a powerhouse to create that kind of unforgettable character. He deserves every major award for that one. The one scene they left out that I wish they hadn’t was when teenage Augusten slips a paper bearing his phone number to the convenience store clerk only to turn around and see him laughing at it with two girls. You really felt sorry for him in the book when he was mocked for having unwittingly come on to a straight guy, and it imbued with a subtle poignancy Burroughs’s reflection that lacking a parent to instill in him a sense of reservation and teach him to think before acting had bitter consequences. The film totally Hollywoodized the sentiment by using it as a voice over during some of the more outrageous scenes.

I had a weirdly depressing weekend (feeling very anticlimactic now that my showcase is over, worried about being behind at work since I took off so much time to prepare for said showcase, sad that Luis will no longer be my teacher, and shell-shocked at learning from my high school reunion booklet that a classmate I’d known passed away sometime in the past ten years), and the movie had a similar effect on me as when I saw “Girl Interrupted.” It was the first time I’ve actually cried in the theater since I don’t know when, and when I got home, all I could do was sit in the dark with a glass of red wine and stare into space. It was comical, sadly pathetic, horrifying, deranged, and dramatically compelling all at the same time — like, in my opinion, all the best art is– and it just made me feel like I, like Deirdre Burroughs, like Susanna Kaysen, like Anne Sexton, like Sylvia Plath, am potentially so close to the edge. Like, it’s human to be so…and it’s only a matter of luck that prevents some from going over it.

In a not unsimilar vein, I’ve been to ABT three times in the past half week; here are two pics I took of David Hallberg at curtain call after his brilliant performance as Death in Kurt Jooss’s The Green Table.

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Pics of Pasha and Me are up!

Photos of Pasha and me (about 7) are up, thanks to Rebekkah! She took a film of Luis and me doing our crazy Mambo, so we’re trying to figure out if we can take snaphots from that. By the way, no teabagging occurred during that lovely little routine, I am very happy to report (at least I don’t THINK it did — oh I was so nervous I don’t even remember doing the damn snake!!!) Anyway, Rebekkah has an awesome camera, like the real photographer she is! I have crapola… Thanks so so so much, Rebekkah for these! And thanks as well to Judy, my very first friend in New York and hence always my NY ‘big sis’ :), Mark and Jackie, my wonderful former West Coast Swing team buddies, and Alyssa, my indefatigable friend who will let me drag her to just about any dance event 🙂 You guys all made me so happy by showing up to support me! You guys are the greatest!!!

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Dance Times Square Showcase a Success!!

So, we had our showcase Monday night, and overall, I am very happy with the way things went — miraculously! My friend took some pictures, which I will post as soon as she sends them, but, until then, here are a few I took backstage (five total — just keep pressing ‘next’ until you come to the end). I first performed my lyrical Rhumba to Jessica Simpson’s “Take My Breath Away” with Pasha. I am VERY happy with the way it went; it felt much much MUCH better than last time. I was more comfortable in my own dress (just a pretty but simple discount Betsey Johnson I bought at the Woodbury Commons outlets, rather than a formal glittery costume), and I think just because we’ve been doing it now for about nine months, I just felt like I had the choreography so down pat I could really focus on the character and stylistics, on really making it mine. Which I feel I did. Plus, not to sound ridiculously stupid, but I honestly think it paid off to see so much ballet in the meantime — both on video and live. Since this routine was a very lyrical piece, I paid close attention to pictures in my ballet books of Julie Kent, scrutinizing how she held her hands, her arms, hung her head in a back dip or lunge. Apart from thinking she is one of ballet’s most sophisticated female artists, I have a body similar to hers — long-limbed and thin, and she has this way of looking soft and beautiful and willowy without looking like a spineless, centerless string of spaghetti, like moi. I also tried hard to remember the way Gillian Murphy danced Marcelo Gomes’s ballet, “Loving,” with David Hallberg, which I’d seen in Martha’s Vineyard over the summer. I absolutely adored his sweet, romantic ballet, and we actually had some of the same basic lifts in our routine, and I loved the way Gillian expressed things with her face and body — so I tried to remember and emulate. And not that I look like anything approximating either of those uber divas, but I think just paying close attention to the details of their stylistics and trying to emulate that, made all the difference for me. And I felt like everyone noticed how much improved I was. Everyone was patting me on the back telling me how well I did when Pasha put me down (from what I still call our Romeo and Juliet lift 🙂 ) in the wings and we walked through the backstage area. NO ONE told me that at the March performance! I also think I was so much calmer, so much more comfortable on stage. I think with a few more performances under my belt, I will be even more comfortable in front of an audience. I mean, I was still nervous, but it was more of an energizing, adrenaline-pumping nervousness than a debilitating one. I still got a bit blinded by the bright lights when I looked out into the audience, but I was more prepared for it this time, and before we performed, I made a point of memorizing where the exit signs were, and other things I could spot to orient myself onstage so that I wouldn’t lose my bearings or balance.

My second routine, the super-fast crazy mambo combo with Luis, went well too, given that it’s a much newer routine and we’ve only had the choreography completed for about two weeks. I did mess up a few places — I hit poor Luis in the face with my elbow during my nine continuous spins around him, and it took a bit longer than it should have to get down into the first set of splits so I had to cut them short and not go down all the way, and then I started on the wrong foot during side-by-side point / kicks. But my friend took a video of it with her digital camera and I watched it, and, at least from what I could see on her small camera screen, you couldn’t even tell we messed up — you couldn’t see me hit him in the face, and it kind of looked like we were supposed to be on opposite feet during the side by sides — the line it created looked kinda cool. So only thing that looked off was the too-slow splits, which were remedied by the next set which were far better — so I don’t even think the mess-up was memorable to the audience. And, my friends who came all swore they couldn’t even tell that was wrong; they all said since I was smiling the whole time it looked like everything went just as I meant it to. So, I guess the pros are right when they insist that no one in the audience knows your choreography and if you don’t act like you made a big ole blunder, no one will know.

I say NOW I’m happy with my performance… I should hold my words until I get my DVD of it and see it on a bigger screen!

Since my two routines were so completely different, I asked all of my friends who came which one they liked best, which one was more ‘me.’ But no consensus. Some thought I either looked more comfortable doing the lyrical or that it just looked better on my balletic body; others thought the mambo was so fun with my funky cherry red, fringe-covered costume and that the lifts, fast footwork and fun tricks were so incredible that it was far more impressive. In the end, I guess I just have more than one side to my personality; neither is more ‘me’ — I can be anyone I feel like being (which is what performance art is all about anyway!)

The very worst part of the whole experience was that Luis called me the next day (yesterday) to tell me that he is taking a break from the studio, which means I probably won’t be dancing that routine with him again. I loved that routine — he did such a great job choreographing it — he put in a bunch of fun lifts and tricks that I’d begged him for, and it was fast-pased and very challenging, and everything looked good on my body and was well suited to my dance strengths. And I loved dancing with him (he may, after all, be the only person who’s strong enough to lift me over his shoulders 🙂 ). I really felt like crying when he told me. I am so going to miss him. He also said he and his pro partner, Anya, are no longer going to compete in the pro competitions so that they can spend more time performing, both live and in videos. (They just did a Luis Miguel video — are the principle couple in it!) So, I don’t even know how much I am going to be running into him in the future. Very sad.

On a happier note, tonight was opening night of the ABT. So spectacular! David was so fabulous in Tharp’s The Upper Room, as was Irina Dvorovenko. I love her in Tharp ballets — she just seems to ‘get’ Tharp like no one else, and the choreography just suits her so well. Other highlights were Marcelo (DUH!!!) dancing Lar Lubovitch’s Meadow with tiny gorgeous STRONG Julie (some of those lifts…it looked like he wasn’t even holding onto her…); Jose (DUH again) doing the bravura parts from Diana and Acteon (I fell into a giggling fit when he first leaped out onstage, which didn’t end until he took his bow — the guy in back of me actually changed seats… oops); and Herman Cornejo doing Tharp’s lovely Sinatra Suite, which I had not seen before. Ooooh, such a gorgeous piece! Beautifully balletically ballroomy. I so wanna do that for my next showcase 🙂 Oh, and final thing, Veronika Part made a small mistake during Balanchine’s Symphonie Concertante (my least favorite piece — I’m just not a big Balanchine fan) — it wasn’t big, and of course we’re all human, but the audience did notice, as there were many audible “ooohs”… I have to say, it did make me feel a bit relieved though– I mean, if she can make a mistake, I can make a mistake, we can all make mistakes, you know 🙂

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Two Days and Most Definitely Counting…

Performance is in just two days, and am hysterically nervous. I went out to my costume-maker, Valentina’s, on Thursday to pick up my outfit for my routine with Luis. Here’s a pic. Very fringey, long pants, skimpy halter top = very not me, but should be fun even so! And it does fit our choreography. I brought it to the studio last night for my final before-show lesson with Luis, and danced in it, and with the fringe wiggling back and forth every time I move — especially on swivels and turns — it does look very fun. So maybe, just maybe, Luis knows what he’s talking about 🙂

Tonight is the rehearsal at the studio, and Monday we have a dress rehearsal mid-day at the theater, and then that’s it — show is at 8. I keep obsessing over the videos I’ve taken of myself with Luis and Pasha and, although it’s good for me to focus on the weak spots, I think they’re making me too hysterical and I need to stop. Luis yelled at me to get over myself on Wednesday night! As if! I had just asked him for the umpteenth time why I couldn’t dance!

I do think dance is making me less insane in other aspects of my life though. Yesterday morning I had an oral argument in court, and, normally I totally over-prepare, to the point that I make myself so nervous about all the myriad things the judges could possibly (but likely won’t) ask me and get myself so worked up that I’m a complete wreck by the time I get up to the podium. Not that loads of preparation is bad of course, but in law I’ve discovered that you need a clear head more than anything. And if reading a bizillion cases that are kinda sorta but not completely on point right before the big day is going to make your head spin out of control, then you’re not going to do as well fielding the judges’ questions and just keeping focused on the strong points of your case. Freaking out in the heat of battle is absolutely destructive in law. But, because I had so much going on this week in preparation for the showcase — ie: going out to Valetina’s umpteenth times for more and more and more fittings and adjustments, taking lesson after lesson after lesson with Luis, then taking lesson after lesson after lesson with Pasha, reviewing videos, going over choreographic notes, etc. etc. etc. — I really couldn’t allow myself to stress about the case. I just prepared my argument, made sure there were no new cases on point since I’d filed my brief, re-read my opponent’s brief and re-read the cases each of us cited, and voila. And I really think I did much better at the podium this time. I didn’t have a nervous breakdown when a judge asked me a question, I answered as best I could, stayed focused on my argument, and I didn’t even hear my voice squeak or shake. I actually sounded confident. And I think the judges actually liked my argument; they gave my adversary a much harder time than me anyway 🙂 If I could just work up that amount of confidence for dance… I do believe it makes all the difference — in everything in life really.

Anyway, it’s getting cold here, so I am off to find some warm fuzzy slippers and long terry-cloth robe to keep me warm Monday backstage so my muscles don’t get cold and fail on me 🙂

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A Little Too Much Fun With the Digital….

Discovered the self-timer on my digital camera this afternoon. Spent the rest of the day taking pictures of myself in the dress I am wearing for my Rhumba routine with Pasha. Here is the result: seven in total! Had just a little too much fun … Seriously though, I did learn something about dance through this form of self-portraiture. I’d set the self-timer (10 seconds), move away, then just start spinning hoping the camera got me at a good angle. Too many bad shots, needless to say — weird expression on my face, shoulders hunched, stomach out / no solid center, not spotting the camera and looking somewhere nonsensical (not to mention, getting dizzy and nearly stumbling), ugly ugly ugly lines with my arms and hands… And I realized that this is how I dance when I’m not paying attention to dancing, when I’m paying attention to something else — like learning how to take pictures of myself, like freaking out by the thought of being before an audience, like concentrating too hard on the steps (when I know I already know them) and not on the more important things like spotting and posture, smiling or having some kind of concentrated gaze / thought behind my eyes, staying connected to the ground and not the air. So, the last few pics are better than first few. Perhaps all beginning dancers should try digital self-portraits…

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Teabagging???

Luis said I was doing this to him. Actually, we were coached by school head, Tony Meredith, on Tuesday, for the showcase, and Luis asked him how he could stop this “teabagging” from happening after I smacked my head into his crotch for the umpteenth time doing our “snake” (I think I posted about this trick before, but if not, it’s where he dips me, then I slide backward between his legs and curl around him on the floor, he pivots around and picks me up. Originally, when I was practicing in my soft jazz shoes, everything was fine, but since I’ve begun wearing the Latin stilettos that I’m going to have to dance the showcase in, I’m a good two inches taller, and now I seem to keep whacking my big head into his crotch on my way through his legs). Anyway, I stupidly said, “what’s teabagging,” a little too loudly, causing a bit of a stir in the studio. Apparently it’s a gay thing (what isn’t with L?), and not a bad thing. Which is good because I really thought my hard head was hurting him! Anyway, apparently, according to the brilliant Mr. Meredith, I just need to watch for his crotch and duck! And, if I always look at him (or whomever my partner is), I will also avoid: whacking his right cheek with my left arm when we go into the “scorpion lift” (in which I reach over his body with my left arm, catch my left ankle over his head, then he picks me up and swings me around and around and around and around); kicking him in the back of the head with my left foot on that same lift; piercing all of his toes with my Latin stilettos on cuban rocks in shadow position (where guy is right behind girl, but a little to her side, so he looks like her shadow); bumping him in the crotch on my backward cha chas in same shadow position; and a whole host of other ‘beat-up-on-your-teacher’ probs that I have. And, amazingly, that nifty little bit of wisdom — LOOK at your partner and you will likely avoid hitting, kicking, and stepping on him — has been working … EXCEPT when we dance to the crazy fast, insanely fast music, and then I get so nervous and afraid I’m not going to keep up with Gloria (I know I’ve said this before, but will say again: Do NOT under any circumstances dance to a Gloria Estefan song if you are not a professional – her music is always way way WAY the hell faster than it sounds when you’re sitting on the couch listening!). Anyway, ugh, I am starting to really want this thing to be over with. Just a week and a half now… Here is a pic of my very sore, bruised and battered little knee, from our lovely little snake.

On Monday night, a student who works at Barneys arranged to have some of her makeup artists come to the studio and give us a little demonstration on how to do stage makeup. We learned how to do a Latin face, a Fantasy face, and a Classic Theater face. Here are a couple of pics. I don’t know that I will be able to emulate the Latin face the Bobby Brown guy gave our Latin model, but we did walk away with a handy little Barneys bag of goodies, which included fake eyelashes studded with rhinestones, blush, concealer, high performance cleansing solutions and moisturizer, eyelash adhesive, and an eyelash curler (dramatic lashes are apparently huge in ballroom!)

On Tuesday, after my coaching session with Tony, I met up with Alyssa and we trekked over to the East Village to see ABT dancer Matthew Murphy‘s Two Thirds Quartet, his choreographic debut at Dance Off, at PS 122. It was a lot of fun! Dance Off, which I’d never been to, is apparently an arena where emerging choreographers (mainly of modern dance) can show new work in a small, informal setting. Matt’s piece was the only ballet, and was, in mine and Alyssa’s opinions, leagues above the rest (though I’m a balletomane!), and was an intensely dramatic, rather beautiful duet for two men (one part danced by Matt). We met him afterward, and he’s a very sweet, personable guy who seemed genuinely thankful that we came 🙂 Most dancers I know seem this way — maybe because they’re separated from their families at dance boarding schools and make big career decisions at a young age, they mature quickly, develop good manners and social graces… who knows. Anyway, I thought it was a great accomplishment for someone so young (20), and I love being able to go to things like this here – one of the many things I so love about NYC! I stupidly didn’t think to take pics afterward, but here is a pic beforehand — I sat behind choreographer Elizabeth Streb (and am admittedly a complete goof for being excited about that…)

Finally, I am finally going to be reading from my novel, as part of the Writers’ Room reading series, at the Cornelia Street Cafe, in the Village, on June 21st. I know, this is obviously ridiculously advanced notice, but this is how it is in the lovely world of publishing — everything is so damn far in advance… It really amazes me anyone (a novelist anyway) is actually published before age 40 — they probably wrote the damn novel at 18 and it took all those years of: quering agents, having each one take six months to a year to get back to you, then asking for the first 50 pages of the manuscript, then taking another 6 months to read that, then asking for the whole manuscript, then taking a year to read that, then signing on with you, then having that agent suggest a bizillion rewrites, which you make and send back to her, which she takes a year to read over, only to suggest more, which you make and she takes another year to read, then she sends the manuscript out to editors, who all go through the same process all over again… How do people even get published in their lifetimes?… Ugh. The life of a writer, I’m slowly learning, is waiting, waiting, waiting, and more waiting. Which is why I think blogs are becoming so big … Imagine: writing you can actually have total control over, and can publish whenever you damn well want! What more could anyone want?????

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Missing Kitty, More Books, Emerging Choreographers, and Compagnie Franck II Louise at Fall For Dance Festival

Strange weekend. Today marks the one year anniversary of my cat, Najma’s, death from congestive heart failure. I still miss her after all this time. I still miss the way she would, true to her Russian Blue Breed: open my bedroom and bathroom doors while I was sleeping or showering (Russian Blues don’t like to be left out of ANYTHING, so, seriously, they will stand on their hind legs, and twist the door knob with their paws while applying the proper amount of force to make the door open; only way to keep them out is to actually lock the door); “talk” (again, R.B.’s don’t like to be kept out of ANYTHING, so whenever I had a friend over, she’d inch her fuzzy little silvery gray body between us on the couch and, looking back and forth at whoever was talking, would grunt a little meow, and if you didn’t every once in a while acknowledge her with a “right,” or “oh,” or “uh-huh”, would start to paw at you or even bite! — I had friends who were more than a little creeped out by this behavior… I thought it adorable, of course!); and I miss the way she would sassily shake her little behind when she walked (one leg being shorter than the other). A lot of people don’t understand how hard it is to lose a pet; they figure a pet’s not a human so you should just get over it. But it’s really one of the hardest things in the world. Najma was the first pet I had as an adult, on my own, and she was my little roommate, always home, always there for me. And making the decision to put her to sleep, after both my vet and the emergency animal hospital doctor told me there was nothing more to do — she could be ‘saved’ again through emergency surgery and an oxygen cage but she was likely to go right back into congestive failure and suffocating on fluid in one’s lungs was a horrible way to die — was thus far the hardest thing I’ve had to do in my life… Anyway, I really don’t want to re-live that day… Here are some pics of her that I hung on my magnetic door.

So, trying to escape my depression this weekend … after trekking out to Valentina’s again on Saturday for my initial costume fitting (she’s just cut the material, hasn’t sewn it up yet, so at this stage I can never tell how it’s going to look), I went to an open air book fair in front of the Housing Works Used Bookstore in SoHo. While in SoHo, I passed this interesting public art exhibit comprised of a mass of post-it notes that spelled out the words “To Do” and which allowed passersby to write on the exhibit their own ‘to do’ notes — some very funny entries! The book fair was okay, but they mostly just had used books by established authors. I bought a copy of Saul Bellow’s “Herzog,” Amy Bloom’s collection of short stories, “A Blind Man Can See How Much I Love You,” and this novel I saw on Amazon and have wanted to read, “One Pill Makes You Smaller,” by Lisa Dierbeck. All of the books at the SoHo fair were only $1, but I still liked the Brooklyn Book Festival much better — even though the books were full price, or near full price, I got more exposure to new authors, and independent presses. There need to be more book festivals like the Brooklyn one — in general, there need to be more forums for new, emerging artists.

Speaking of which, Alyssa (wonderful friend who trekked out to Martha’s Vineyard with me to see Marcelo Gomes‘s choregraphic debut) and I are planning to go to the choreographic debut of another ABT dancer, Matthew Murphy, on Tuesday night, as part of Dance Off at P.S.122. He’s posted a bit about it on his blog. I just often find new artists a lot more interesting, a lot fresher, than established ones. Should be fun!

Today, I went to my second of two shows of the Fall For Dance Festival now underway at City Center. This is a great festival — each night five different dance companies perform an excerpt from one of their larger works, so the audience gets exposure to many different companies (most of them the smaller ones that don’t get a lot of publicity). On Friday night, highlights for me included the Dutch National Ballet (performing beautiful contemporary duet, “Before After”, depicting two lovers just before they break up), Pennsylvania Ballet (excerpts from a contemporary piece choreographed to Rufus Wainright music), and Bill. T. Jones dance company’s excerpts from his fascinating “Last Supper at Uncle Tom’s Cabin” (there was so much going on in that one — spoken words, famous text spoken backward — ie: ‘last at free, last at free’, a jazz band, singers, on top of the incredibly amazing dancers, and super fun choreography including crazy turns and jumps, pretend spanking, men lifting other men, etc. etc. etc. — I must definitely see that one again!). Highlight today, and, for me, probably of the entire festival, was Compagnie Franck II Louise, an all male French troupe whose dance style I’d call hip-hop combined with modern, or innovative hip-hop. Franck Louise (who is damn cute, I might add!) spoke before the show at a panel discussion about the uses of technology in choreography, and he said (in French, through an interpretor) that he is a dancer as well as a musician, and he uses this sound machine while choreographing, into which he kind of feeds music, and the machine tosses it around and mixes it up, then spits it back out, and the dancers move their bodies according to how they hear the music. I couldn’t completely understand how the technological device worked, but the dancing his company performed was some of the most innovative and awesome I’ve ever seen. This one guy expanded and contracted his diaphram to create a physical interpretation of the music in rather humorous ways, which I didn’t even know were possible (reminded me in a weird way of the Puppetry of the Penis show I’d seen — I mean, regarding use of the body to make different shapes), and another spun around and around on his head for what seemed to be minutes — I have absolutely no idea how he did that; I definitely would not have thought it impossible if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. I luckily had a seat right at the edge of the stage, but I don’t think it mattered where you sat: the audience was screaming, and they got a unanimous standing ovation, the first I’ve seen at this festival. This was their U.S. debut, but if the audience response here is any indication, I’m sure they’re going to be welcomed back at many more venues. They definitely ended my weekend well, getting me over my Najma depression. Go see them whenever you can!

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Learning Something About Yourself Through Dance…

Not to sound maudlin and syrupy, but you do. One day at work a while back, I was having a stress attack (which happens not infrequently for me) and needed a breather, so I visited Ballet Talk (one of my many dance ‘breather’ websites) and took this completely goofy “Which ABT Ballerina Are YOU?” test that someone had posted. The test asked you both ballet questions (like which ballets, or which characters, you liked best) and more general personality questions like what’s your favorite color, image, word, how your friends describe you, what you look for in a mate, etc. I worship Alessandra Ferri — think she is by far the most artistically brilliant ballerina in the world right now, so assumed I’d get her. But instead I got Gillian Murphy, an allegro ballerina known for her athleticism, amazing speed, fast fast multiple turns, sky-high jumps, etc. And, in my little critique, it said that I was a great athlete and had boundless energy, and now I just needed to work on developing my artistry a bit! I laughed, thrilled at having got as my ABT avatar the ballerina who is probably, judging by the wild screams in the audience everytime she takes the stage, everyone else’s favorite!

Well, Luis and I taped ourselves dancing our routine earlier this week, and I just got up the courage to watch it. I’m in shock. I screwed up right and left — and there is a lovely shot of me covering my mouth bashfully after whacking my hip into his pelvis on a back cha cha — can I cover ANYTHING up?! And I seem to have this surprised, open-mouthed look on my face the entire time — like I can’t believe I’m actually dancing a Latin routine. BUT, with all the mistakes and silly faces, my body actually looks OKAY doing this crazy-ass, every-other-step-an-insane-trick, lightning speed mambosambachacha dance. Of course I need centuries of practice… but I re-viewed my tape of Pasha and me doing our soft, pretty, slow, romantic Rhumba, and I can’t believe it, but I look better with crazy Luis. I always thought that, with my ballerina-y body — ridiculously long legs and arms, long, thin sinewy, flexible muscles, feet with enormous arches, long goose neck, tiny bird-like head, etc. etc., I’d definitely look best doing a slow romantic dance. Speed-of-light-paced Mambo that requires smallness, not to mention sexy curves, was probably the farthest from what I would think would look good on me. I agreed to do Luis’s routine because — apart from the fact that I’d met him in one of the group classes he was teaching and really really liked working with him — I thought it would challenge me; would at least make my friends laugh if and when they saw me perform it. So, basically, the thing that ended up being a real challenge for me was the thing I thought was my thing. Hmmm…

One reason Rhumba’s so hard for me is that I go way way WAY too fast; Pasha’s always yelling at me to keep the time, count out loud if I have to. And everytime I count, he tells me I’m completely right, so if I can count, I should be able to keep the time with my feet. And yet I can’t — I’m just so impatient; I just want to go go go. And then I realized, that’s how I am in life too — I’ve been known to speed down our office hallway or round a corner so fast, I’ve blown paperwork right out of a co-worker’s hands; I’m always being asked to slow down while walking with friends; I not infrequently smack angry pedestrians with my ginormous ABT dance bag while speed-walking down Manhattan sidewalks; I talk so fast in the courtroom I’ve had judges tell me to stop my argument and start over; I sometimes get so impatient waiting on a subway I want to kill the train conductor by the time the train arrives. I do everything fast — except eat, and that’s only because I developed a swallowing disorder and was forced to calm down, in order to feed myself and to live, basically. I can’t even have a severe headache without jumping around… —speaking of which, I went to my primary care doctor yesterday for a check-up and she read to me the Columbia headache specialist’s report. He said all positive things like ‘patient was well-groomed’ and ‘dressed appropriately’ and ‘spoke articulately,’ but then at the end said, ‘patient somewhat anxious.’ ‘Somewhat anxious’ – -who me? I remember how, in an acting class I once took at HB Studios, we did a relaxation exercise and my teacher kept ordering me to stop moving and relax. I tried and tried and tried, and absolutely could not stop: swinging my leg; tapping my foot; rubbing my knuckes; crossing and uncrossing legs… anything but keep completely still. Why?
Oof, maybe that stupid ABT test was right! Maybe if I had dedicated my life to dance, I would have been a sparkly, piquant allegro, and not a beautiful, lyrical, poetic adagio ballerina, as I see myself in my dreams (assuming I’d made it in the cutthroat world of ballet, of course…). Now in adulthood, maybe a crazy, fast-paced Latin dance is more me than a soft pretty one. Or, maybe Rhumba is doing me some good; perhaps I should learn to take my time more in life: smell the proverbial roses, don’t rush, don’t choke, taste the food, feel the music, feel the character, feel my partner, finish the pretty line, just enjoy…

Anyway, Sunday evening, my former West Coast Swing team had a partial reunion. Here is a photo. One of our teammates, Jackie Draper, gives a cabaret performance at Danny’s Skylight Room in the theater district about every six months, and as many of us as possible try to go — we kind of use her performances as our little reunion time. This one was special, because Jackie entitled her show “Something to Dance About” and she had a little segment where she talked and sang about our team. The team was a really fun experience — probably the best competition experience I’ve had. In fact, Dance Times Square had all of the showcase participants fill out these little questionnaires about ourselves, and one question was what our favorite competition experience was. I put mine was getting plastered with my teammates after finishing our final competition last May at the Grand Swing Nationals in Atlanta, and reuniting with my former teammates every so often in NY. In the vast majority of competitions, the student competes on his or her own with a teacher; very few comps have a team event unfortunately. With a team, you’re all in it together, and you bond in ways that you just don’t bond with, for example, other students from your studio who are also competing with your teacher, and whom you’ll therefore spend a lot of time with at a comp. A team comp is an unforgettable experience. Anyway, we will probably have our next little reunion at, yikes, MY showcase, which Jackie bluntly reminded me was coming up in less than a month. They’re now putting up posters around the studio… Help.

Oooh, just realized I have no underwear for tomorrow… geez, I have been dancing way too much and neglecting my life. Before I forget, here are a couple of pictures of the artwork I bought in Martha’s Vineyard last month when I went out there to see Stiefel and Stars. Okay, off to do emergency laundry…

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Is Dance an Art Form or a Set of RULES? Is It Time For A Re-Release of Baz Luhrmann's Spectacular 1992 Film???

Okay, I must rant. Has anyone seen “Dancing With the Stars” for the past two weeks? Has anyone seen Karina’s BRILLIANT choreography for Mario — last week’s Swingy Quickstep and this week’s Standard Tango mixed with elements of Argentine? What I have always loved about Karina, and the reason I was so ecstatic upon seeing her name listed as a participant in this season’s show, is her brilliant artistry. Though fellow ballroom enthusiasts debate me about her world rank technique-wise, artistically speaking, she is by far the most exciting ballroom dancer today. Everything from her unique choreography, music and costume choices, and just her beautiful stylistics and the way she executes even basic steps — I savor the opportunity to watch her perform like I do no other ballroom dancer. Yet, the judges bashed her both weeks for not staying within the RULES — criticisms the audience clearly didn’t understand. First, even assuming arguendo that there should be rigid RULES that the dancers adhere to, Americans took traditional English Quickstep music, melded it with African-American rhythms, the music became known as Swing, and Americans originated a new dance form to that music. Today, the same music can be used for Quickstep (by the English primarily), or Swing. So, Karina was not off-base, even RULE-wise, by choreographing a Swingy Quickstep routine for Mario; it was simply an Americanized Quickstep. And it was perfect for Mario’s body and his dancing strengths. HELLO HELLO HELLOOOOOO???. This is what real choreographers do in the world of real dance, where dance is considered an art form: they choreograph according to the dancer’s strengths.

This week, I honestly didn’t even understand the judges’ criticisms. Was it that the Tango was too Argentinian and not Standard enough? (Because Tango didn’t originate out of Argentina or anything…) I honestly didn’t understand what RULE Karina’s choreography violated. And, if I, a ballroom enthusiast and student, didn’t understand, how could the idiotic judges expect the audiences to? Do the judges even realize that they are not in a formal ballroom competition setting, blabbering with other judges? Do they realize who the audience is? If they don’t, I will tell them: the audience is comprised of normal people who want to see fabulous, exciting ballroom dancing.

Maybe the problem lies in what ballroom dancing, or DanceSport, really is considered. When I was at the U.S. National DanceSport competion in Florida earlier this month, one judge remarked how wonderful it was that, with the proliferation of shows like “Dancing With the Stars,” people were growing to love our SPORT. Not art. Not that DanceSport is not a sport, of course, with the immense speed required for some of the Latin dances and faster Standard dances like Quickstep, and the strength and flexibility required for spectacular lifts in the exhibitions. But Ballet, while requiring deft athletic ability, is obviously an art as well — it would have to be for it to be watchable. And Ballet is of course meant to be watched. In Ballet, the competitions are merely a means for dancers to achieve a status high enough for them to get a job with a good company, so that they can spend their careers performing; competitions aren’t ends in themselves, as they are in ballroom. Which is probably the heart of the problem. In ballroom, dancers spend their careers competing for world titles; the title in and of itself is the goal. They then spend their post-competition careers teaching ballroom dance to students — both up and coming pro dancers and just people who want to learn how to social dance. So, they never really have performance careers. Until now. Which is why the rules regarding the RULES need to change.

And, what are rules, anyway? The desire for those in power to control someone else? Does that have any place in an art form? Artists — both performers and choreographers – need freedom to create or the art form will die.

Even in the world of competition, the RULE thing needs to take a break. All of the couples at the top levels are in excellent athletic shape and have perfect technique. Shouldn’t they be judged on their artistry too? In ballroom competitions, the same couples tend to stay on top for years and years on end, preventing new and upcoming couples from ever really making it. Which is so unfair to them — and boring for us to watch.

It’s only now, when I’ve begun going regularly to the comps, and have started doing my own student showcases and trying my hand at helping to choreograph my own routines, that I’m realizing the beauty and value of Baz Luhrmann’s brilliantly spectacular 1992 film, “Strictly Ballroom.” I saw it earlier, closer to the time when it first came out, but then I knew nothing about the rigid, staid world of ballroom dance. Now that TV shows like DWTS are popularizing the … whatever (I’ll call it ‘art’ because that’s, in my heart, what it is) of ballroom dance, and the judges are getting booed right and left for their “your broke the RULES whining”, I think it’s time for a re-release — bring back Baz!!

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Nipple Covers, Sore Crotches, Gay Men, Breasts, and Self-Analysis…

Ah, such is the world of ballroom dancing!… Seriously, just when I was going to bitch to high hell about gay men not having any clue as to female needs for modesty, my wonderful teacher, Luis, has redeemed himself and agreed to let me wear for the showcase a cute but covering halter top! Initially he wanted me to wear a bikini top. I told him no way, with all the lifts, dips, fish dives, back bends, rag dolls, upside-down-shakes — there is no way; my boobs will definitely fly out! Definitely. When I explained this to him, he looked at me as if I was speaking another language. I think that because breasts are completely meaningless to gay men, breasts shooting out of skimpy costume tops mid-performance are likewise wholly uneventful… When I stared him down, he finally got it, and said, “Well, if it’s that big of a deal, you can get nipple covers, you know.” No, I didn’t. What are nipple covers, pray tell — does anyone know?? I am so not a real dancer!! Anyway, I showed him various pictures of alternatives to skimpy tops, and he brightened considerably when I showed him one of me in my former West Coast Swing team outfit, the top part of which was a halter. Yay, agreement! No, seriously, I jest: Luis is great! He okayed my new LaDuca shoes as well (pronounced them ‘cute’ even!), which is really cool because, though they’re not standard Latin dance shoes, they are closed-toed, and since I have such high arches, it’s very difficult for me to wear open-toed shoes because my feet tend to slide out of them whenever I point. So, anyway, today I trekked out to my (well, shouldn’t say ‘my’ since virtually everyone in the Latin world uses her) Russian seamstress, Valentina, all the way out near Brighton Beach so she could update my measurements and sketch what I wanted. She did my last competition costume for me, and nothing fell out, so I trust her. Think I’ll still try to get a hold of some of those nipple things though, as well as some serious double-stick tape. You can never be too careful in the oh so costume-malfunction-prone world of Latin Ballroom dance…

Last night, Luis and I went straight through our routine twice, no stops! It was the most intense workout I think I’ve ever had. I told him so and he laughed, “What do you mean, I’m the one doing all the lifts!” Which is true. I try to help, I really do, I swear!!! And his crotch must be extremely sore today — we do this one trick called a “snake,” where I go into a dip, then slide between his legs, feet first, then body, then head, ending up behind him facing sideways, and, I don’t know what it was, perhaps because I was wearing heels for the first time dancing the routine, but I kept whacking my head straight into his groin while trying to get it under. I’ve never done that before! Maybe it was subconscious anger over the skimpy top?! Ha ha ha 🙂 Anyway, poor Luis…

Last night, my friend took me out to dinner for watching her kitty while she was away visiting her boyfriend in Scotland — only to tell me she’s marrying the bf and moving to Glasgow! Which I was of course very happy for her for, though I am going to really miss her 🙁 But, hey man, why can’t I marry a Scottish boyfriend and move to Glasgow???????

But something in our dinner conversation ended up starting me on this self-analysis trip. She’s a freelance writer and editor (which is one reason why it’ll be relatively easy for her to relocate out of the country — lucky lucky lucky her!!), and in telling her I was thinking about trying to get into the same line of work, she suggested I begin regularly scavenging the paper recycling dumpster in my apartment building for magazines so I can think up stories. Which I did for the first time upon returning home last night. Found a lovely W magazine and Bergdorf Goodman catalog (the latter of which is almost like a Vanity Fair, interestingly, with all its articles on personalities, etc.). Ended up searching more for fashion ideas for my costume to present to Valentina today than story ideas… But at one point, I noticed something on the backs of both mags was ripped off. On further inspection, I realized it was the recipient’s name and address. Of course I immediately got all paranoid thinking on no, I always leave my name and address on my New Yorkers, Time Outs, Brown Alumni Mags, and ABA Law Journals before tossing them into the bin. What if … And then I thought, what? What if what? It’s interesting that someone did not want people to know that they subscribed to W and Bergdorf. I guess I don’t care what people are going to think of me based on my subscriptions… So I read TONY (doesn’t everyone?) and the New Yorker (don’t a lot of people?), went to Brown (everyone went to school somewhere…), and am a lawyer (it’s not like I’m the only one in this city…). And then I realized I’ve always been weirdly oblivious to what other people think of me. Maybe it’s because my reunion’s coming up, but then I began remembering how when I first started at my high school, I didn’t know anyone since I’d just been transferred from another due to redistricting, and I’d found this great little bench that was perfectly situated in the middle of the three buildings that comprised our campus, and right next to the lockers. My mom would pack me lunch, and I’d sit there on the bench with my little sack and eat while watching everyone. I’m weird — and this is probably why I ended up in New York — but I was just fascinated with watching how people interacted with each other, or didn’t, who rushed frantically from class to class or stopped at their lockers between periods, who sauntered coolly either putting on a false air of bravado or who honestly didn’t care if they were late, how different people dressed and what their clothes said about them, who was picked on, who was ridiculed — either to his or her face or behind his or her back, how the ridiculee dealt with it, who looked nervous, who else was a loner, etc. etc. etc. I loved watching people basically. One day, a teacher rushed up to me, and, tugging on my sweater, cried out, “honey, honey, why in the world are you just sitting here? I always see you sitting here all — ALONE!” And when I looked up at her, confused, she actually had tears in her eyes. She was truly worried about me. It never occured to me that I wasn’t invisible, or maybe not invisible, but just that people didn’t really think about what I was doing enough to be bothered by it or question it. Not long after that, I was reunited with a friend, Kelly, whom I’d known years earlier from elementary school. She was completely different now. She was now a normal 13-year-old girl obsessed with popularity and fitting in. She explained to me what popularity was (because I honestly hadn’t known), whom I should want to be friends with and kiss up to (even though I found their personalities repugnant), and what items of clothing and by what designers I absolutely must have (even if those clothes didn’t particularly appeal to me). High school ended up being the worst four years of my life. And I honestly wonder what my experience would have been like had I not sought out a friendship with Kelly, after that teacher freaked out over my supposed loneliness.

Anyway, I’m blabbering…

A couple of internet thingys I wanted to point out: first, this way cool blog — this woman is a total riot and I cannot stop laughing at the hilarious way she expresses herself, but her rants are also very thought-provoking and her blogroll educational. I serendipitously found her blog, oddly, after my orthopedist mentioned something about Maxalt, my headache med, being taken off the market for health reasons (after searching every nook and cranny of the internet, I’m now sure he meant Methanone). But she’d once blogged on the drug, so it popped into my search. And, after reading her recent entry on names and thus being prompted to think about the inherent racism of John Stossel’s recent 20/20 segment arguing that parents should be careful not to give their children odd (read: Black) names, lest they have a harder time in society, and then performing more internet searches, I eventually came upon this very interesting test, conducted by Harvard University. Take it! Take it! Everyone take it! It’s really interesting and makes you aware of how you think!