I knew making it as a dancer would be hard. I wasn’t prepared for something like this.
Okay, so I’m not the strongest person in the world. I’m petite. I have wiry strength, but don’t expect me to lift a tree trunk off a dear friend or family member if they should happen to get trapped underneath one, because that’s not a service I offer. I dance, and I do it really well because I’m light. And I act, because there are plenty of roles for very petite people, even if I’m pretending to be a tradie who knows about tool box central locking and…gas bottles. And I’m happy to be part of a major debut production, really! Maybe one day we’ll be as big as Bats, Fandom of the Oprah or that other one that came out a few years ago. The one about the witches who start their own encyclopedia that anyone can edit. Wiki, I think…argh, see how I lose my grip on even basic theatre stuff I should know!
It’s all because of last night’s rehearsal. The director had us swinging around aluminium toolboxes as part of a routine. That might have been difficult to begin with, but they insisted that we carry an entire set of tools inside because it makes things more realistic. Right, whatever, tell that to my dead arms and aching quads. All my years of dance training, and I’ve never experienced anything like it. I’m taking painkillers, but this thing is making my soul ache. Will I have to drop out? I’m just not cut out to be a workman, especially if it involve performing complex toolbox moves that make me feel like I’m going to put my back out.
No…I can’t continue like this. No way. I’m going to ask the director for another part. They won’t be happy, probably, but there are people around Melbourne who do aluminium toolboxes on a regular basis, and I am not one of them. I was born to dance.
Do you know what would be even more difficult than getting a fancy car on stage??
A giant monkey. Or ape, or…whatever Kling Klong was. I never quite understood all the hype about the ‘Eighth Wonder of the World’. What, the curtain opened and there was an ape all chained up? Where were the musical numbers?? Where was the actual entertainment value beyond looking at a thing for two hours? That’s why, if I ever get myself a gimmick or wonderful item, I won’t waste it by surrounding it with tat. Just last week I won a free Melbourne stretch limo hire session, courtesy of a theatre company who I’d done some work for in the past, editing their adaptation of the musical Violin Player on the Balcony. They didn’t like the fact that it was set in communist Russia because it could’ve been a trigger for some people, so they wanted me to edit the entire thing and make it so that it was set in Argentina during the Gulf War. I also made some alterations to the main characters to make them a bit closer to their adopted nationality, plus I rewrote the ending because the previous one was kind of a downer. Basically, I can now have three free limo rides.
I don’t have anyone to share this with, which is a terrible shame, but more minibar goodness for me! No, I’ll ask some of my friends. They’re the ones who helped me get this far, those who’ve whispered to me jobs of editing, told me about dance troupes that desperately needed someone to rework their choreography. We’re a team, and I think a fancy limousine ride should be the perfect reward. That, and we can discuss my upcoming project while we sit their in the limo and sip expensive beverages. I need actors, lighting people…this will be a business meeting of productivity and change. In a limo! Perhaps engaging the services of Melbourne’s limo hire is causing the glory to go to my head. I’ll have to calm down before I send out the invites.