Just reflections

I’m greedy. I’m happy I’ve watched Le Corsaire.

The world is so wide! I want to see Manon, and I want to see Stuttgart’s Romeo and Juliet. (But first, if I only could — once more, see Rosa Park and Chen Peng – o but time passes and Timothy Coleman-Mercutio has left.)

— I’m sentimental. I try not to be, but I am…Time doesn’t come back. Nothing comes back, and even memories go away.

Houston Ballet is showing Zodiac now, and I want to see Midsummer Night’s Dream set to music by Mendelssohn. Tapes aren’t quite the same; I can’t really handle Balanchine’s Jewels on tape, I know not why.

I’m greedy. Sometimes I read Dance magazine and I see exciting pieces. I might not be able to appreciate (in fact, likely not!) some of the stuff I see there, like Frederick Ashton. But we learn new things. I want to see Christopher Wheeldon’s Alice in Wonderland, and watch Ballet 422 (Justin Peck). I don’t know anything at all, these are just things I’ve read about, and seen snippets of, but it’s really like I’m swimming in a wide ocean and barely beginning.

Do you know – I do sometimes think that if I knew more about ballet moves, I might not enjoy watching ballet as much? I don’t know if I would be applying my rational mind to the moves, thinking about doing them, rather than actually just watching. I have a deficit of movement-memory in my brain, such is my excuse. A friend likens body/muscle-memory to playing the piano. But I’ll be frank. Those piano-playing muscles? Also eroded :p

The weather has turned really nice and warm these few days. Well, nice. Summery, but tonight there’s a lovely powdery breeze. I hope I never forget the feeling of anticipation I had when waiting in Fort Canning for Ballet Under the Stars to start. The grass, the crowds. Really the first time I watched neoclassical ballet, and honestly the most amazing thing ever. I love how you can paint and think things into these lovely dances. It helped that the music was memorable. If I were to hear the music again, I’d feel the same way, I hope. That lovely feeling of experiencing something new and exciting and wondrous, for the first time – and never wanting to look away.

Okay. That was sentimental, too.

I wonder what this year’s BUTS will be like. I so desire a Cocotte basket, but I don’t know if it’s too great an indulgence. It looks and sounds lovely, and people have recommended it, and after we’re done, we’ll have a lovely empty basket to bring home. I think – I’d like to think – we can just once, just have a picnic basket packed by someone else, full of lovely salads and sandwiches and roasts (I’m kidding, roast meat sandwich, I think) and the most awesome-looking cake. I’m dreaming now… 🙂


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