In which I fight gravity, and lose. Again.
It's not that the choreographer is evil - no, that would be too simple. The choreography itself, however, is another story.
Pain, as it has been said, hurts. It is, in the end, not the eloquent rage of a poet's writhing verse nor the mistaken interpretation of frustrated greed. It is, rather, a plaintive, warning, physical cry of desperation....currently emanating from pretty much every joint in my body, and a good deal of abused skin as well. This would be due to said malicious choreography that was rehearsed today in preparation for April performances. My sustaining consolation is in the hope that it will ultimately look awesome enough to justify four months of agony.
Those of you who have given birth are probably laughing contemptuously.
d'accord.
Have been reading the Dune series (by Frank Herbert) lately. Good stuff. Good, epic stuff. Lots of it. An Idaho shipper's dream, really...so many Duncan Idahos - so much time. Bizarre.
So who shares the love?
Pain, as it has been said, hurts. It is, in the end, not the eloquent rage of a poet's writhing verse nor the mistaken interpretation of frustrated greed. It is, rather, a plaintive, warning, physical cry of desperation....currently emanating from pretty much every joint in my body, and a good deal of abused skin as well. This would be due to said malicious choreography that was rehearsed today in preparation for April performances. My sustaining consolation is in the hope that it will ultimately look awesome enough to justify four months of agony.
Those of you who have given birth are probably laughing contemptuously.
d'accord.
Have been reading the Dune series (by Frank Herbert) lately. Good stuff. Good, epic stuff. Lots of it. An Idaho shipper's dream, really...so many Duncan Idahos - so much time. Bizarre.
So who shares the love?