Premiere, opening night, make-up, hair, bikinis, an almost proper warm-up (a couple of pliés and running through the Botticelli section), then plenty of hanging around in the dark studio waiting for Emile to give us the sign, yeah that sign. I managed to slap Cornelia a good one right on the mush during the strangling section and almost fell out of performance mode because I thought I’d busted her lip. From then on though, actually the whole 12 minutes of death-grind-metal-ness was a scream.
I like keeping things a bit under-rehearsed so performing becomes like somewhere to keep playing and try new things, which was always one of my problems in the distant past, of supposed to be getting it right dance, and my head is going, “hey! why don’t you try doing … this! (completely change the choreography and cause minor disaster) and see what happens?”, but now we all get to have fun and play on stage which is the best thing ever. And Emile fully rocks, not that I really see what he’s doing but I heard from quite a few people how awesome he is to watch, and I think he has a long future ahead as a contemporary dancer haha.
So all round it was wicked fun, and Cornelia is awesome and Radovan is cool, so we have this little group of juvenile delinquents who spend most of the time making fart jokes and talking like characters out of several tv shows instead of doing the serious work of rehearsing (which is a drag anyway), and out of this stupidity comes hell. And several people said to me the only thing they wanted was to see the whole thing, like 1 1/2 hours of some demented black metal gore-core performance. With fifty tvs, which get smashed up every night, and Chinese demons and binlang girls, and all kinds of other fun stuff.
Anyway, important things like the after-party, with mighty fine curry and beer, and talking and having fun, then the after-after-party in the dachstock, with Cambodian cassette music, chocolate, wine, food, half of St Gallan, and all-round hanging out until the white fog had so descended over Zürich looking out over the Limmat was like a fluffy white hazy ball occasionally glowing from the bridge lamps. Sleep, repeat.