Dance class Wednesday night was a mind bender and muscle builder, full of stepwork and muscle control. Middle Eastern dance oh belly rolling pleasures, intense muscular isolations combined with accurate timing; it is about the skeletal structure motions as well as muscle strength and flexibility. The motion is internalized, concentration on isolation and control. I've been doing sit ups and push ups and leg lifts and stretches all week and still today I am sore.
Feet staggered front to back up on the balls of the feet, demi-point, we slide the hips to the left then the right then the left as we slowly bend the knees, down down down for three counts how low can we go and still slide the hips side to side, serpentine, don't arch the back. On the fourth count we rise from the floor all the way back up to demi-point and begin again, slide down slide down slide down rise. Breathe as you rise, exhale as you drop.
It's hot outside it's hot inside and our throats and thighs are burning but we all fall and rise like dove wings, twenty two of us, hips sliding in unison, down down down then back up again for five minutes, switching which foot is in front every eight repetitions. We are all shapes and sizes and colors, the iridescent feathers on the wing of a bird. When we pause there are gasps and stretchings and grimaces, and then we launch into the next drill, a rocking step forward and back with a turn.
Spinning in a line, it builds up rhythm like bouncing on a trampoline, momentum swings us around at the ends, step step turn rock back, step step turn rock back. It feels like a very folkloric motion and in my mind's eye I can see full heavy brightly colored peasant skirts swirling around the ankles during the steps and flaring out during the turns.
We did drills for seven new stylistic moves, and then used them for an impromptu choreography, an Arabic pop song, and our instructor told us about how the nightclubs in Cairo would play the video every fifth or sixth song, and how in the video the girl is riding an exercise bike and had a pouty mouth & the camera fixated on her ass, so in the nightclubs the dancing often included pouty mouths and butt-bumping. She said the words are gibberish, completely nonsensical, something like "Hey can we do whatever," and the music is catchy and easy to whistle. She always brings us a slice of life from Cairo when she comes home.
After class I went with my girls Belle, a gothie burgundyhead with cheekbones to die for and freckles and green eyes, and Lia, who has the longest legs in the world and pale Irish skin and wild dark hair, to a downtown downstairs swank smoky mirrors bar. But first we tried to take Charlie's Angels pictures since we were all in black sassy tank tops and yoga pants next to the High Voltage sign on the fence by the warehouse loading dock. I think we were too giddy and high from dance class to do anything right with the little disposable camera and then Lia ran out of film. Belle climbed into a big empty cardboard box and I called her a cat and she said damn straight.
We crossed the street to the bar and talked about the flyer for a band coming to town, Lia asked if they were British because of their hair and teeth I said no they're American and the old man with skin the color of dark chocolate coming up the stairs from the bar-- we waited for him because he was reeling and using both handrails-- started singing drunk "No they're not British they're Amerrrricaaaan." He reached the top of the stairs and gave Lia a high five and sang again "They're Amerrricaaaaaaan." He had a voice like butterscotch and he didn't have his two front teeth but he was happy and he made us all smile.
Down the stairs and into the dark bar where a torch band made music on upright bass and muted trumpet and piano, the singer in a black suit with a pink carnation and white shoes using an old fasioned chrome plated microphone. He had the jawline and the little spectacles resting on his nose, dapper with his short black unruly hair slicked back, velvet voice and the mannerisms and soft head-tilts and gentle hand motions of a 1940s nightclub crooner. We had to walk right in front of him in between songs to get to our destined little corner nook, first Lia then Belle and when I passed in front of him he said into the microphone, "Hey how you doin?" for which I was teased. Lia joked, "Brunette, redhead... He'll take... the blond!" And then they made sure I was seated in his line of sight. Belle said oooh he's a sugar, too young, and the menus came and I excused myself to use the funky little bathroom.
While I was gone, Lia ordered drinks and got me a neat shot of whisky from the top shelf. She's afforded expenses per day for meals and loves to treat when she's in town. She & Belle got something with a lot of chocolate and sugar in it that tastes far too sweet after the sip of whisky but they like that sort of thing. Give it to me hard and straight I said, and Belle almost climbed into my lap with her giggles. Their friend showed up, having just escaped the university genetics lab... no that doesn't sound right. She works there and is doing research to try and eliminate deafness in infants.
She said there's nothing they can do for deafness caused by natural occurances but they hope to isolate and identify and eradicate the gene that causes babies to be born deaf. I didn't say that I thought those were natural occurances too, oh no I kept my mouth shut. The interesting part is that they're using little tiny minnow-type zebra fish to isolate the gene; I guess zebra fish have ears that develop much like our own. She said they can't tell if the fish is deaf other than by examining whether its ear isn't developed correctly. I want to know who decided zebra fish. Was this some sort of revelation, "Hey, look, this fish has ears and we can't tell if it's deaf but we should be able to isolate the deafness gene..." call me skeptical but I think messing with genetics is akin to building the Tower of Babel. I kept my lips sealed.
When the band took a break the singer came straight to our table and politely and quietly thanked us for coming, and asked if he could join us for the break so he sat next to me, which was the only available seat. I have been known to be loud and talkative but on average I don't say much, I prefer to sit in the corner and watch. Thankfully my girl Belle is not only a waitress but a waitress in a 50's style diner and can talk to anyone, anywhere, anytime. Any moment the talk slowed she had a new and thoughtful question to ask or a comment to make. She made him a plate of food from our appetizers and passed him a glass of water. Up close he had the kind of features any mother wants to see her daughter marry, the neat haircut, the high cheekbones, the strong well-manicured hands, and his glasses afforded him a decidedly sweet geeky element. He even mentioned Elvis Costello and I thought oh wow yes that's what it is. We all enjoyed chatting with him, and he thanked us for bringing class to the show which elicited many giggles because he just doesn't know. Then he left to chase down the long-legged waitress for a martini.
I left before they started the second set, while Belle & Lia & Genie were still eating and drinking, and maybe at 10:30 the night is still young but it feels late without my man, who was home with an earache, who greeted me with the sweetest love.
Feet staggered front to back up on the balls of the feet, demi-point, we slide the hips to the left then the right then the left as we slowly bend the knees, down down down for three counts how low can we go and still slide the hips side to side, serpentine, don't arch the back. On the fourth count we rise from the floor all the way back up to demi-point and begin again, slide down slide down slide down rise. Breathe as you rise, exhale as you drop.
It's hot outside it's hot inside and our throats and thighs are burning but we all fall and rise like dove wings, twenty two of us, hips sliding in unison, down down down then back up again for five minutes, switching which foot is in front every eight repetitions. We are all shapes and sizes and colors, the iridescent feathers on the wing of a bird. When we pause there are gasps and stretchings and grimaces, and then we launch into the next drill, a rocking step forward and back with a turn.
Spinning in a line, it builds up rhythm like bouncing on a trampoline, momentum swings us around at the ends, step step turn rock back, step step turn rock back. It feels like a very folkloric motion and in my mind's eye I can see full heavy brightly colored peasant skirts swirling around the ankles during the steps and flaring out during the turns.
We did drills for seven new stylistic moves, and then used them for an impromptu choreography, an Arabic pop song, and our instructor told us about how the nightclubs in Cairo would play the video every fifth or sixth song, and how in the video the girl is riding an exercise bike and had a pouty mouth & the camera fixated on her ass, so in the nightclubs the dancing often included pouty mouths and butt-bumping. She said the words are gibberish, completely nonsensical, something like "Hey can we do whatever," and the music is catchy and easy to whistle. She always brings us a slice of life from Cairo when she comes home.
After class I went with my girls Belle, a gothie burgundyhead with cheekbones to die for and freckles and green eyes, and Lia, who has the longest legs in the world and pale Irish skin and wild dark hair, to a downtown downstairs swank smoky mirrors bar. But first we tried to take Charlie's Angels pictures since we were all in black sassy tank tops and yoga pants next to the High Voltage sign on the fence by the warehouse loading dock. I think we were too giddy and high from dance class to do anything right with the little disposable camera and then Lia ran out of film. Belle climbed into a big empty cardboard box and I called her a cat and she said damn straight.
We crossed the street to the bar and talked about the flyer for a band coming to town, Lia asked if they were British because of their hair and teeth I said no they're American and the old man with skin the color of dark chocolate coming up the stairs from the bar-- we waited for him because he was reeling and using both handrails-- started singing drunk "No they're not British they're Amerrrricaaaan." He reached the top of the stairs and gave Lia a high five and sang again "They're Amerrricaaaaaaan." He had a voice like butterscotch and he didn't have his two front teeth but he was happy and he made us all smile.
Down the stairs and into the dark bar where a torch band made music on upright bass and muted trumpet and piano, the singer in a black suit with a pink carnation and white shoes using an old fasioned chrome plated microphone. He had the jawline and the little spectacles resting on his nose, dapper with his short black unruly hair slicked back, velvet voice and the mannerisms and soft head-tilts and gentle hand motions of a 1940s nightclub crooner. We had to walk right in front of him in between songs to get to our destined little corner nook, first Lia then Belle and when I passed in front of him he said into the microphone, "Hey how you doin?" for which I was teased. Lia joked, "Brunette, redhead... He'll take... the blond!" And then they made sure I was seated in his line of sight. Belle said oooh he's a sugar, too young, and the menus came and I excused myself to use the funky little bathroom.
While I was gone, Lia ordered drinks and got me a neat shot of whisky from the top shelf. She's afforded expenses per day for meals and loves to treat when she's in town. She & Belle got something with a lot of chocolate and sugar in it that tastes far too sweet after the sip of whisky but they like that sort of thing. Give it to me hard and straight I said, and Belle almost climbed into my lap with her giggles. Their friend showed up, having just escaped the university genetics lab... no that doesn't sound right. She works there and is doing research to try and eliminate deafness in infants.
She said there's nothing they can do for deafness caused by natural occurances but they hope to isolate and identify and eradicate the gene that causes babies to be born deaf. I didn't say that I thought those were natural occurances too, oh no I kept my mouth shut. The interesting part is that they're using little tiny minnow-type zebra fish to isolate the gene; I guess zebra fish have ears that develop much like our own. She said they can't tell if the fish is deaf other than by examining whether its ear isn't developed correctly. I want to know who decided zebra fish. Was this some sort of revelation, "Hey, look, this fish has ears and we can't tell if it's deaf but we should be able to isolate the deafness gene..." call me skeptical but I think messing with genetics is akin to building the Tower of Babel. I kept my lips sealed.
When the band took a break the singer came straight to our table and politely and quietly thanked us for coming, and asked if he could join us for the break so he sat next to me, which was the only available seat. I have been known to be loud and talkative but on average I don't say much, I prefer to sit in the corner and watch. Thankfully my girl Belle is not only a waitress but a waitress in a 50's style diner and can talk to anyone, anywhere, anytime. Any moment the talk slowed she had a new and thoughtful question to ask or a comment to make. She made him a plate of food from our appetizers and passed him a glass of water. Up close he had the kind of features any mother wants to see her daughter marry, the neat haircut, the high cheekbones, the strong well-manicured hands, and his glasses afforded him a decidedly sweet geeky element. He even mentioned Elvis Costello and I thought oh wow yes that's what it is. We all enjoyed chatting with him, and he thanked us for bringing class to the show which elicited many giggles because he just doesn't know. Then he left to chase down the long-legged waitress for a martini.
I left before they started the second set, while Belle & Lia & Genie were still eating and drinking, and maybe at 10:30 the night is still young but it feels late without my man, who was home with an earache, who greeted me with the sweetest love.
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