Dear Diary,
Awakened abruptly at 7:30 by nonstop honking of many cars. Klaxons! The traffic signal near my window was showing only red. This went on for three hours. It was also 9 degrees Fahrenheit outside. Pretty.
I had a session this morning with my Pilates coach, Clarice M. For an hour and a half, two times a week, for about the last 10 years, I have stretched and strengthened and balanced and complained. The Pilates method is a great antidote to the asymmetrical repetitive moves I do most days. Great for injury prevention or rehabilitation. I love it and hate it and recommend it. Enough.
Cheeseburger lunch. To the office.
A 4-hour-long meeting with my Ace Management Team: Nancy U. and Barry A. We are planning a celebratory season of new and old dances for next spring. By then, my dance company will be 20 years older than it once was. Discussions of repertory, programming, music, casting, publicity, production, opera, commissions, books, how things are going, etc. Then Barry went to Paris.
Rehearsal started today without me. I would only slow things down/up. A lot of our time in the studio is spent putting dances back together. We work from videotape and notes and mostly from memory. Once one’s learned a dance with its music, it is relatively easy to retrieve it, even after a long period of dormancy. Of course, it’s still a hard dance.
Contractor measured for poppy-colored Formica in my kitchen. Listened to Satie … only. Jeopardy. Sushi. The New Yorker. Law & Order. Popcorn. Ice foot. Glamorous.
Until tomorrow,
Mark.
