Last Thursday I got up to go to my theatre class in NYC.
I get up early to take a shower before the guys working in the kitchen of my friend´s apartment arrive. They are very nice, and I have nothing against them, but having a shower while you hear two guys you do not know talking next door, one of whom has already told you how “well equipped” you are...it's a bit weird.
So I leave early, and take the N to go To 42nd. But the train goes very slowly, and stops. A weak female voice coming from some speakers I can't locate explains something I can not quite understand. Five years of English philology, 20 postgraduate credits in English Linguistics and Literature, a masters degree in course by an American university, years living in English speaking countries, and still can not understand those vital things to survive, like the fucking voice coming from the speakers at train stations. I swallow my high school nerd pride, and ask an American looking guy what the lady said. Not a clue he says..such a relief for my self esteem, although still don't know what happens.
After some long minutes, I go out and find the real lady...the lady behind the speakers in the middle of the train. Until then, I thought she was just an entelechy, a legend. But she is a real person in the middle of the train. She explains something about trains, and tracks and stations..she might as well have carried on talking through the speakers. And then somebody says something I finally understand “ Uff...it means at least a couple of hours until the service works” Finally, some proper English.
I ran downstairs shouting, “ anybody wants to share a cab to somewhere?” And this really kind guy who is with two other woman that come at that point and join us, tells me he is going somewhere where I can take a train, and I say yes, without having even figured out where. I get in the taxi with these three people who seem to be coworkers, stressing about the time, and the train and the place to go and suddenly I pay attention to the ladies talking next to me...” I have never seen more than 2 butterflies together”, “Oh yeah..they only live for a day” Then I decide to go back to my world of being late and stress, expecting to see a butterfly flying across the cab at anytime.
I finally make it to the class, one of those long ones. When I finish I go here and there, I get a ticket for a fringe festival show, I go to the fat cat club to listen to music and write and end up in an eletronic music party that somebody I met in the street told me about, but I can´t find him. Instead a meet this nice guy and we talk and have a good time, and it gets so late I end up not going back to my apartment that night, to go back to class the following day.
Amazing people working in wonderful class. I love acting. And lots of memories of things that happened before...The topic of today: humilliation and love....I am fucking sorted...You all know my greatest hits list. No please, no...don't go through it again. I am going to quote my brother here:a list made up by the kind of things done by “ a pathetic Woody Allen character, but a boring one” Well, I disagree now, I get the fun of it.
And in the warming up, all the clothes flying while we dance. These young beautiful thin girls dancing around int heir sexy underwear. I knew I should have got some sexy underwear from woman's Secret. But...would it have been useful? I mean...you know...my tits...they have this rare tendency to escape all the time, even when I am just slightly running to catch a bus in the street.
And then, the wisdom of your mother suddenly strikes you like a flash of lightening in a dark night. All these years thinking your mum was crazy and laughing at her idea, when she used to say to you “Don't wear holy knickers, in case something happens to you and you end up at hospital”All this years you answering “ As if I am going to care about holy pants if I end up at hospital, mother”
And then, the moment where this dancing girl takes her pants off and strips down to her underwar. Your moment to decide, shall I go with her on this? Shall I take my pants off?And then, the lighting in your brain and your mum's voice echoing..hooooly kniiiickers...and for a second you freeze, because e you know you were down to your last pair of pants before doing the laundry and try to remember...did I put on the holy knickers that have been waiting at the bottom of the drawer to be sawn for the last 2 years? And you could swear the blue pants were not the one with the whole in them...but....can you be sure about it?
So you take the safe side. And dance away in you not holy leggings and your short skirt. Nudity in a tehatre class...maybe...Holy pants...never. Let's leave the humiliation for love,