Last night, I was channel-surfing, waiting for my sleepy-bye melatonin to kick in, and caught a performance by a male ballet dancer, doing this amazing routine of little interludes in characters like a drunk, an old man, a fairy (I kid you not), a macho man. Well, it was Barishnikov, of course, something from the 80's. He was great, and very powerful. His leaps astonished me. I yearned to yell to someone "Come here! You've just got to see this!" And there was no one else there. Part of me just wants someone to know how very cultured and refined I can be. See, I listen to Mozart! OK, I've got a way to go here.
Back in the dark ages, the early 60's, I saw a film with Rudolph Nureyev and Dame Margot Fonteyn, a performance of Prokofiev's Romeo and Juliet. Margot was a little long in the tooth to be playing a 14 year old, but still so lithe and sylph-like, you could forgive her. Rudie, on the other hand, was a joy to behold. When he leapt into the air, he just sort of hung there, in anti-gravity grace. And you'll never see a more gorgeous glutious maximus. That's th polite phrase for bottom. With all that lusty, throbbing music, it was a consummate wonder. Mikail never quite lived up to Rudie in my book, not till last night, anyway.
Oh, well. If there had been someone there last night, he would have been in the other room, watching football highlights, anyway.
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