Two days off. Count them! And while we were not meeting in a children's theatre studio with bright colored tissue paper and balloons on the shelf I was working on my lines. Yup. Nose to the grindstone, "Don't worry about me guys you go enjoy those fireworks I got some jokes to work on." ...That may be a lie.
Rehearsals are going very well in case you, dear reader, were worried. There is so much happening and since the acts are relatively short they are each getting to work on their feet and then work little offstage and the get back up and work. It is exciting to see how they change, sometimes drastically and sometimes just a nudge here or there. And the most exciting thing that happened last week, was boobs.
I realize if I had been brought up somewhere fabulous and warm and outside of the US, I would not be so tittilated by boobs. Bare boobs. Or excuse me, breasts. I suppose it would have a different feel if it were Bare BooBed Women Sword Fighting. Cause you know Boob also means a dummy. Probably wouldn't have the same effect.
Let me give you the details. Rachel decides enough kidding around and even though her fight partner was not there, she just rips her shirt off. And she is there in the children's theatre studio in a rehearsal skirt and a sword ghost fighting with her partner very skillfully and bare breasted. All eyes in the room, more or less stay on her focused eyes as she dances her way through the piece. And the other night the Amazons were trying to fight in their lovely costumes. Originally the costumes were going to only reveal one breast as the Amazon warriors used to cut off a gland so it wouldn't get in the way while pulling back the bow on the bow and arrow. Certainly breasts get in the way not just back then but daily and even historically. Think about it, I'm an 11 year old girl not quite ready to let go running around at recess and I got these bouncy things staring me in the face. Double tank tops won't hide them and then it's a bra, and then books in front of my bulging chest and suddenly I'm wearing eyeliner and sitting in the back row of the movie theatre and reading Cosmo waaaaaayyy to early. I blame the breasts, or I guess I celebrate them and that beautiful time of change? But they still get in the way. People brush them, accidentally touch, them, and always say sorry. And I'm sorry too, cause they're out there, brushing up against people, getting in the way of people's hands.. Though I am not fooled by the front hug from men I don't know that well and am not that happy to see, I turn and give them the side hug.... I digress-REHEARSAL.
Enough about my pre-teen years or that douche at work who goes in for the hug, and back to the action, my Amazon ladies (both Katies) are in their costumes for the first time and they're unsuccessfully hiding the other half of what their mama's gave them. No audience will believe that either of them is missing a breast. So these two young actresses go down to just skirts, that's right no tops like we're in the riviera. They nix the whole top of their costumes and work the fight as free as Mother Nature intended. And I'm watching them flow through the fight clanging their heavy broadswords at each other and I'm impressed at how stunning their bodies look together, lithe and graceful. But instead of resorting to my inner third grade boy and being obsessed by areola I am locked into the solid connection between their eyes. The vaudeville story of this fight is two women, neither good nor evil forced to fight for the audience --Lorraine you should drop some history here. It is one of the darker moments in the show as they are would have been historically, fated to brutally fight each other for our entertainment. On Wednesday night these 2 women dangerous and vulnerable step through a safely choreographed fight to the death, capably and confidently they assume warriors and give this dance the gravity of a ritual. This is some ancient shit. Nice work ladies, hopefully you, dear reader, will be part of that ritual.
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