I had a dream last night that I was doing a one-woman show that consisted mostly of dancing. And when I say dancing, I don't mean wiggle the bootie high in the air and watch the cellulite flutter like you just don't care. I mean hard-core, serious-ass modern/ballet, the kind of dancing I used to do 6 years ago, before I became a quality control specialist for Tostitos. Now sure, I could still dance in a musical if I had to (nobody’s jazz square is as mean as mine - and don't even think about trying to out-lindy me...) but let's just say I tried to do a grand jete not too long ago in which my legs were maybe developed enough to skip over a small puddle. I still have fantastic style, though, as anyone who's seen me do "Dance Interpretator" at the Comedy Social will attest.
Anyway - the point is, in my dream, I had to do the show twice. The first night was perfect. I was like Cirque du Soleil thin and Gumby flexible and I did all these amazing tricks - 3 flips in the air, I could move like Bill Irwin doing his marionette piece - I was seriously amazing. But then the second show, which I guess was at my alma mater, was a nightmare. First of all no one showed up except a few people I went to school with who really "respected my art" (which is funny because they were people I wasn't friends with per se but that were generally respected as being very talented) and then once the show actually started, everything started going wrong. I forgot the order of the show, I couldn't remember what costumes went with what dance or if I did I couldn't find them backstage... Then the real kicker happened: half way through, in the middle of this long contemporary ballet piece that required a lot of improvisation, floor work, jumps, etc., I got tired and had to stop dancing. I remember the moment exactly: I was mid pas-de-chat to the left and my toe just wouldn't hit my knee. And strangely enough, I suddenly had these huge, thick wool socks on. That was when I knew I had to pack it in. I found a way to smoothly exit, and that's all I remember.
Then get this: when I woke up, my legs hurt! And my knees were cracking! What?! Do you think I was seriously kickin' it in my sleep? Or are these just "phantom pains" because my brain went through the workout?
Do you think it has something to do with the fact that I had crackers with port wine cheese and mustard on top right before I went to bed?... Or do you think this is God's way of telling me I should start working out again?... Or that it's good I hung up my silver unitard when I did?...
Which reminds me - yes, back in the day when modern dance was my life I did perform in a silver unitard with gloves and a hood (you gotta click for the visual on that one) that made me look like a sperm, which is funny because my friend Gabe made his dancers wear those same unitards and ACTUALLY PLAY SPERM. Long story. But if you want, I have the video...
Gabe starts in The Lion King on Broadway tomorrow. It's a far cry from choreographing the sperm and egg dance, but it'll do. I'm so proud of my third cheetah from the left! Think of me pas-de-chat-ing in my spermitard as you leap through the jungle with a 200 pound wooden mask on your head!
Anyway - the point is, in my dream, I had to do the show twice. The first night was perfect. I was like Cirque du Soleil thin and Gumby flexible and I did all these amazing tricks - 3 flips in the air, I could move like Bill Irwin doing his marionette piece - I was seriously amazing. But then the second show, which I guess was at my alma mater, was a nightmare. First of all no one showed up except a few people I went to school with who really "respected my art" (which is funny because they were people I wasn't friends with per se but that were generally respected as being very talented) and then once the show actually started, everything started going wrong. I forgot the order of the show, I couldn't remember what costumes went with what dance or if I did I couldn't find them backstage... Then the real kicker happened: half way through, in the middle of this long contemporary ballet piece that required a lot of improvisation, floor work, jumps, etc., I got tired and had to stop dancing. I remember the moment exactly: I was mid pas-de-chat to the left and my toe just wouldn't hit my knee. And strangely enough, I suddenly had these huge, thick wool socks on. That was when I knew I had to pack it in. I found a way to smoothly exit, and that's all I remember.
Then get this: when I woke up, my legs hurt! And my knees were cracking! What?! Do you think I was seriously kickin' it in my sleep? Or are these just "phantom pains" because my brain went through the workout?
Do you think it has something to do with the fact that I had crackers with port wine cheese and mustard on top right before I went to bed?... Or do you think this is God's way of telling me I should start working out again?... Or that it's good I hung up my silver unitard when I did?...
Which reminds me - yes, back in the day when modern dance was my life I did perform in a silver unitard with gloves and a hood (you gotta click for the visual on that one) that made me look like a sperm, which is funny because my friend Gabe made his dancers wear those same unitards and ACTUALLY PLAY SPERM. Long story. But if you want, I have the video...
Gabe starts in The Lion King on Broadway tomorrow. It's a far cry from choreographing the sperm and egg dance, but it'll do. I'm so proud of my third cheetah from the left! Think of me pas-de-chat-ing in my spermitard as you leap through the jungle with a 200 pound wooden mask on your head!
NAA-SEM-PWEM-YA, MAMA-ZEE, MAMA-YA! (Or, "Hold Me Closer, Tony Danza" in Swahili. What, you never knew those were the lyrics? After all, it is an Elton John show...)
