I Must Confess by Rupert Smith

Author:Rupert Smith
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Cleis Press
Published: 2012-09-25T04:00:00+00:00

I went from Holland Park straight to the Outer Space, where Moska was holding another class, this time for his whole company There were many familiar faces there – Julian, of course, Anna, even Nutter – as well as a handful of performers whom Moska introduced as ‘my corps de ballet’, a collection of thin, beautiful men and women who were warming up and stretching amidst clouds of cigarette smoke.

When I appeared in the room with my bags, the strain of a recent parting must have shown in my face. Anna swamped me in a huge motherly embrace, and for once I found her emotional openness (which had sickened me before) strangely comforting. I knew that I had a home, I had friends. I was learning to relax and take life as it came. Even Nutter was warm in his greeting, although I could see that he was nervous in this new company.

We had gathered at the Space for a ‘workshop’. I was expecting a script and a readthrough, but when I asked Moska about the show and my role in it he simply beamed, made a few expressive hand gestures and scampered across the room to join the dancers. ‘Don’t worry,’ said Julian, ‘this is how he always works. The show has to evolve out of improvisation. Just relax.’ He handed me a joint, and I was grateful for the wave of peaceful wooziness that it imparted.

The initial exercises completed, we sat in a large circle on the floor and began the ‘guided trip’ that initiated Moska’s method. First of all we joined hands and closed our eyes and hummed. Then we played ‘word catch’, throwing random phrases across the circle to each other. Nutter was squirming with embarrassment, but soon the drugs calmed him and he sat there laughing to himself. Then came the class proper, a welcome opportunity to actually do something rather than just sitting about. Moska put us into pairs (I was partnered with Anna ; Moska himself took Nutter) and began to lead us in a dance, the only accompaniment a rhythmic clash of finger cymbals. There were no formal steps, but I improvised a casual foxtrot while Anna ground her pelvis in a figure-of-eight pattern. We were not a comfortable partnership. After we’d tottered inelegantly round the room for a few minutes, Anna gripped me firmly by the hips and jammed our groins together.

‘You’ve got to learn to relax, Marc,’ she whispered in my ear. ‘You’re so tense. Move your hips with mine, babe.’ She began her pelvic grind again. ‘White middle-class men are so uptight about their bodies. Come on, feel the rhythm. That’s it. Round and round and round and round . . .’ I glanced across to Nutter, who was mutely suffering a similar mauling from Moska, but was too stoned to care. ‘Try and be a little less Western in your thinking,’ murmured Anna in my ear. ‘Go with the flow, baby . . .’ Julian, sailing past in the arms of one of the ballet dancers, deftly inserted the ever-burning joint into my mouth.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.