BackBlogged

I’ve been neglectful of some key details relating to where I am and what I’m doing. This is my attempt at filling in the blanks, but if there remain some glaring questions left unanswered, post a comment and I’ll do my best to clarify.

[Hey, what the heck! Post a comment regardless. If my mom can figure out how to “hug” me via Facebook, I have complete faith in you, The Reader, and your Internet abilities. Although, she did “hug” me about 11 times in a row and then “bit” me; well, it’s been a steep learning curve.]

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I arrived in Ottawa on September 10^th with very little resembling a plan: no set duration of stay; no employment; and no accommodation beyond a 2 ½ week house-sitting gig in Nepean.

I’m here for dance, specifically to take class weekday mornings with Peter Boneham and the amazing dancers of Le Groupe Dance Lab. Peter is a multiple award-winning artist, the longest-serving artistic director in Canadian contemporary dance, overall genius, and at 72 years of age, will not hesitate to kick your ass.

Although I analytically understand the main principles behind Peter’s technique, this hasn’t (in my mind) made it much easier to achieve these principles in my body. Especially the turning. Oh boy, is it rough! My right leg is one thing, there’s a possibility, a glimmer of hope. But my left leg is still in the process of post-injury relearning – although, to the leg’s credit, it’s mostly during the advanced work that I feel a disparity between the two sides.

But oh, I love it! The entire place is so kind and welcoming. Every morning, everyone – dancers, Peter, admin, tech – greet me by name. Even Rudy, the studio dog, comes to see me. I haven’t witnessed any bullshit. And it feels like home.

And everyone’s hilarious (which always wins big points in my books). Friday, Peter kept teasing Josh -- one of the new male dancers who *gasp* happens to be straight -- that he was going to be the key interview subject for his book, Dancing Butch: How to Make it Through without Becoming a Fruit and that Josh should probably offer butch lessons to the other guys in the company.
After class, James strutted around the studio, saying in a put-on deep booming voice, “D’oh, d’oh, d’oh! My name’s Josh and I’m a man.”
To which Josh replied, “Lalala, my name’s James and I’m jealous!”
It could have been just the end of the week of a long, but I found it quite funny.