Pathetic Fanboy Redux; Also, How Do Armband? 

A bazillion (okay, six) years ago, when I was training in Muay Thai(1), there was a “How Do Armbar” meme that circulated the Mixed Martial Arts forums and made us all snicker uncontrollably and snorf our drinks at school and work. 

  1. If you dance and are looking for an effective stand-up fighting game(because who isn’t, I guess?), I highly recommend Muay Thai, because A) it’s hella fun and B) your existing flexibility, rond-de-jambe, grand battement, and ridiculously powerful legs give you a totally unfair advantage starting out. Basically, Muay Thai is a lot like ballet, only when you kick people in the head (for which, btw, you use your shins, not your feet), it’s on purpose and sometimes they grin at you and your instructor gets all joyfully goggle-eyed. Also, you get to learn the arcane art of hand-wrapping and how to legitimately punch a mofo, should need arise. There is much less face-punching in ballet. Usually. 

Anyway, I apologize for committing not only meme necromancy, but obscure meme necromancy, in my title.

Regarding which: OMG, you guys! Why did I never think of recycling worn-out socks into phone armbands? 

It literally couldn’t be easier.  Here’s the source (lots of other amazing Mixed Martial Homemaking stuff on this blog, too, by the way):

The Art of Doing Stuff: DIY Armband for Your Phone 

For dancers, this is probably also a good way to repurpose that pair of legwarmers that looked amazing at the store, but started unraveling as soon as you took them off after class (I’m looking at you, sparkly legwarmers.)

Because I can’t leave well enough alone, I think I’m going to work on a version that folds over at the top and buttons, because dance, amirite? No way my phone is going to stay in an unsecured sock-based armband during tombé-coupé-jeté. Not for a minute. 

But this kind of thing could be incredibly useful for earphones-required rehearsals (Bluetooth earbuds are the best invention ever) and backstage warm-ups and everyday life (and running, and bike rides). Maybe I’ll sew them into pockets, too. Easy hand-sewing project, there. There are so many possibilities, here. 

I may never have to wear actual trousers with actual pockets again!

~

In other news, I went and got my Pathetic Fanboy on last night, and it was so worth it (though the music for “Mother Ginger” always gets stuck in my head, presumably because #AncientAliens).

First, it’s weird watching The Nutcracker year after year and ticking off the parts you could actually do (and those you could do if you just had a reliable tombé-coupé-jeté: regarding which—in men’s technique, tombé in second to achieve maximum liftoff, apparently; forgot to mention that yesterday). 

The last time I saw Nutcracker was two years ago. It was a totally different thing. I was really just climbing back into ballet, optimistically (and impatiently) forging my way back through all the stuff I’d learned as a kid. I had no experience of partnering. A lot of the men’s technique, in particular, still seemed further from my reach (let alone my grasp) than I cared to admit to myself. 

This year, much of the choreography seemed reasonably in reach—partly thanks to simply having learned a lot, and partly because learning Albrecht’s variation taught me that I’m more capable than I think (though, like Albrecht’s variation, maybe I would have to learn things with single tours subbed in ’til I have solid doubles).

Anyway, watching BW dance was, as always, enlightening. 

First, I think it may have given me some insight into nailing down my double cabriole, which is one of next year’s #BalletGoals. 

Second, BW’s technique is beautiful and clean and classical. Likewise, he legitimately makes partnering look so natural and effortless that it could be the kind of thing that just happens while you’re walking down the street or what have you(2).

  1. I don’t recommend just, like, ambush-partnering people, though. That might be taken wrongly, all things considered. So, in short, don’t roll up to the bus stop and be like, “Greetings, my good lady/fellow/etc,” and loft people above your head. They really might not appreciate it.

And he seriously has the most beautiful legs. He has gigantor thighs like mine instead of sylph-like, Hallbergian ones, which rather flies in the face of our collective assumptions about what ballet bodies look like(3). They’re robust, yet so finely sculpted that you can practically see the individual muscle fibers(4, 5).

  1. Though maybe less so for people who don’t constantly simmer in a vat of ballet. Honestly, I’m pretty convinced that when the average American pictures a male ballet dancer, they always picture Baryshnikov, Nureyev, or possibly Carmen Miranda, although she was neither male nor a ballet dancer.
  2. To my great vexation, a month of sitting on my butt has largely de-sculpted mine :/ #FirstWorldDancerProblems
  3. Also, no, I didn’t just spend the whole ballet creeping on BW, though it totally sounds like I did. White tights, you guys. They hide nothing(6).
  4. Which is why(7) we have dance belts.
  5. Well, that, hernias, and testicular torsion.

The other bit that seemed interesting: I noticed a few moments in which things subtly Didn’t Go According To Plan, and also why. I don’t know if that’s just a function of two years’ more experience and technique, or if it comes in part of watching painful video of myself dancing and thus learning to see why tiny error A leads to less tiny error B(8). Possibly both?

  1. As a whole, I think only one of these would have been visible to audience members who are neither dancers nor true balletomanes. 

 The second-act Sugar Plum pas de Deux wasn’t quite on form, though. I haven’t seen BR do classical partnering before, so I’m not sure if it’s not his thing or if it was just an off night. 

The casting for Arabian seemed a bit strange. BB commented that this may have been intentional; our new AD is into pushing dancers out of their comfort zones. 

Anyway, MK is the company’s resident Central Casting Classical Ballet Prince—and I mean that in a good way. That said, he’s not by nature the sinuous kind of mover the music demands. To my eye, he looked uncomfortable, and it translated into a stiff-ish performance. 

His partner, on the other hand, was perfectly cast. If I remember correctly, she also danced Sugar Plum opposite BW’s cavalier in the other cast, though I can’t remember her initials right now to save my life.

 Also, an errant paper snowflake drifted down from the rigging and upstaged (well, technically, downstaged) everyone during the last part of the pas de deux. If there had been, like, ten snowflakes, it wouldn’t have been quite as funny. Instead, it was just just the one snowflake that maybe was asleep or something during the snow scene.

Frankly, it was pretty hilarious, but I refrained from from laughing out out loud or narrating (“Omigosh, how did I miss my cue? Well, the show must go on—BANZAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIII!”).

On the other hand, no little kids waved to their parents.  Apparently that happened once last year, and will now circulate in the Horror Story annals of the company and the school forever. 

Of course, Nutcracker doesn’t close ’til the 22nd, so a wave could still roll in.

The flowers, on the other hand, were really lovely this year, as were the flutes or Merlitons or whatever they are in our production (I suppose I could go find my program?). Tea—a solo in this company—was playful and skilful, while Spanish chocolate—a quartet—danced with brilliance and playful flirtation.

On the whole, everything was beautiful and magical, as it should be. HUK shined as a very non-creepy Drosselmeyer, and one of my favorite dancers, SV, owned the Russian dance (our company’s rendition isn’t my favorite, but it’s still pretty fun).
So that was Nutcracker, and now it’s on to whatever’s next. I know The Sleeping Beauty is coming up, and I’m looking forward to that.

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About asher

Me in a nutshell: Standard uptight ballet boy. Trapeze junkie. Half-baked choreographer. Budding researcher. Transit cyclist. Terrible homemaker. Getting along pretty well with bipolar disorder. Fabulous. Married to a very patient man. Bachelor of Science in Psychology (2015). Proto-foodie, but lazy about it. Cat owner ... or, should I say, cat own-ee? ... dog lover. Equestrian.

Posted on 2016/12/18, in balllet, dance, homemakering, performances and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

  1. First, it’s weird watching The Nutcracker year after year and ticking off the parts you could actually do (and those you could do if you just had a reliable tombé-coupé-jeté: regarding which—in men’s technique, tombé in second to achieve maximum liftoff, apparently; forgot to mention that yesterday).

    Oh yeah, additional 2017 goal: improve boring transitional steps.

    • Oh, yeah, those. Add that to my list, too. JP made advanced class pay attention to glissades on Saturday. He literally said, “They’re just glissades, right? Nobody cares about glissades—except me!”

      He and the entire Royal Danish Ballet, and the eternal souls of August Bournonville and Eric Bruhn and Rudolf Nureyev, who apparently fell in love first with Bruhn’s precision, and only later with the rest of him.

      And I, in fact. Glissades are the only part of petit allegro that I reliably do beautifully, so damned right I care about them!

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