Saturday, February 5, 2011

I remain a snob. Or something.

Perhaps I am blocked by my own insecurities? No. No. My insecurities hold me prisoner in many areas but I think I can confidently say that when experimental dance becomes "ball-in-a-cup!" it is bullshit not because I am insecure but because I have taste and a lot of experience with bullshit. In fact as far as writing, I'm pretty close to "ball-in-a-cup" myself on occasion. But you've already figured that out.

I've been looking for something to write about and really trying not to write about Le Sacre du Printemps which is hard considering the fantastic letter I received from someone in Argentina who is just getting turned on to Nijinsky, Stravinsky and the entire experience of the first organic and experimental choreography. And he is not a dancer or a fag even. I just admitted in this post alone that I'm full or shit and have social insecurities: get over the fag thing now.

I wanted to write about this guy's enthusiasm but I felt that I am not really writing about much other than Pietra, Chouinard, some German shit here and there and Stravinsky of course. So I started looking around for something new and ended up calling a witch I know to see if its possible to raise Pina Baush from the dead because Jesus fuck! What is this crap on these desolate stages, this recorded music behind women who look like Bowie or Divine struggling to create a dance step out of a 20 year old memory of "step ball change" and is every guy in experimental dance shooting dope now? Really, is every guy shooting dope? Is this bullshit dance theater the new stall at the Grand Central men's room?

And am I making this up in my head because I am not out there dancing or seeing it live in Europe where its probably really happening and I am socially insecure and afraid life will pass me by and Bowie and Divine will be picked for the team before me? Maybe a little.

But more to the point, Ball in a God Damn Cup. Fuck It.

And I'm writing about my friend in Argentina because people like him keep that which is not swan lake alive, living, breathing and teaching. Me especially. -Fatova Mingus