There are ballerinas out there. Somewhere. Boiling eggs.

Posted: December 22, 2023 | Author: | Filed under: Brief...therefore witty. | Tags: , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

I give you my word on this. Ballerinas are heavy.

By God, you know when a ballerina’s leap is finished. They land visually like nobody else – dainty and flowery. But they land audibly like the best and rest of us. “Thud.“

Though I’ve not been landed-upon my many professionals, I’m sure ballerinas would take the biscuit, even more than a bakery burglar.

I think they have to be weighty – as a matter of function.

One can’t twiddle one’s toes incessantly, to the point of being able to launch an entire human through the air just by toe-power, without becoming immensely and densely muscular from the ankle down.

That’s why ballerina’s thud.

They’re paid to thud.

They’re trained to thud.

And they bloody well do, thud.

However, the thud is only so thuddy thanks to the silence with which they float through the air, but this is where it depends on what you attend a ballet for, because I really think the thud lasts longer than the floating.

Whilst floating is for some, and thudding is for others, I’m not a real fan of either in the context of ballet. Devastating news, I know, for the thousands of ballerinas reading this, but I’ve a priority I must ask.

Where are you? And what are you doing?

It’s it strange to think that there are ballerinas out there in the world, in society, being ballerinas.

Catching flights, boiling eggs, breaking up with partners, forgetting their cat’s name till the third attempt, and perhaps maybe even two or three other things, but all whilst being a ballerina.

I’d presume they need to stub their toes continually too, simply to ensure hardiness, so any opportunity to kick something hard would be taken too. I presume. I don’t know as I’ve never met a ballerina, but they must be out there somewhere.

Probably, though hopefully not, you’re presuming I’ve a weird focus on wanting to find a ballerina.

I don’t want to find a ballerina at all, and I’ve no intention of seeking them out. I just don’t want to be surprised by one all of a sudden when out in public.

DO you catch flights? DO you boil eggs?

And do you read a script for your feet?

The Nutcracker is a ballet over 100 years old, and there is a much beloved score that is performed note for note, as per the sheet music.

Where’s the script for the feet? Or is improvisation of the feet expected?

Are ballets scripted per flourish of the limb? Is it written somewhere, or does a choreographer tell people when to move which leg where and in what manner once the Rat King turns up?

When to thud, and when to float? And in which direction, and – remember this – with a facial expression?!

Maybe I should meet a ballerina, just to dispel these ignorancies of mine, but till I do I’ll simply have to remain vague in understanding, though I’ll tell everyone that asks that I expect ballerinas are out there somewhere, and that they do boil eggs when necessary.

And that’s just the primary ballerina, which I think is a ‘soloist’, but there are extras too, and what the hell do they spend their time doing apart from practicing to over-react to a ballerina’s floating whilst pretending that a thud isn’t about to happen.

I suppose it is like much of stage theatre – a matter of over-reacting until you’re paid, in costume, at matinee and evening performances. Acting can be brilliant, but to really pull of being a stage-extra, you’ve got to get the knack of over-reacting subtly.

Like a parsnip chip pretending to be a potato chip. Very convincing, and quite irritating too.

I’d rather be the bear that pursues the rest of them off-stage.

I could make a good bear. I’d look better anyway.

I always do when I look like someone else.

Sam

Perpetually IN – a solid handshake and lava

Posted: May 15, 2023 | Author: | Filed under: Perpetually IN | Tags: , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

It’s been a while since I noticed that some things are invariable and persistently popular.

It’s easy to forget, because it’s all so everyday, but when it comes up in the everyday, it is lovely to remember that it’s happening right now.

Remembering the present?

Makes sense to me, but then again – maybe I ‘get it‘ because I can’t be bothered to dwell on it any more.

And frankly, I’ve other things to be confused about.

Not this though. I do feel like I’ve understood this following topic brilliantly.

Good, solid handshakes.

You’ve got to have good grip strength to have a reliable handshake.

Ballerinas have excellent handshakes, so I’ve come to understand.

It’s probably all the tiptoeing.

Tiptoeing, which is also perpetually IN by the way, take a lot of grip strength.

Try it. Try to tiptoe without holding your hands in a slight pantomime-creep manner, pinching nothing but your lack of dignity between your index finger and thumb.

Impossible. In fact, it is also impossible to tiptoe without thumbs.

Toes aren’t essential for it, however.

And that pains me to say, as I’ve a fondness for toes – they’re harmless and dopey. And I’d hate to take tiptoeing away from anyone, least of all an innocent toe. A promising young toe. A toe with gumption.

Toes are admirable as they’re the silliest body part after genitals, and therefore the second best.

And whilst we know toes aren’t essential to tiptoeing, we should appreciate that a penis or your favourite labia, ‘tween index finger and thumb, is indeed entirely vital to the procedure.

That being said, we should also remember that having a penis can debilitate your grip strength due to adolescence.

Thus, things have gone somewhat full circle with this initial premise, but with a lot of sudden corners.

I guess that’s my writing style, which is a ‘sudden corner’ in and of itself, as I had no clue I had a style.

I haven’t even started talking about handshakes properly yet, let alone lava.

“Let alone lava” – lovely.

A nice phrase, a little like the words ‘tiptoeing’ or ‘after genitals’.

I suppose the handshake could be improved via other means, such as living a long gritty life in a grey gritty part of a flat gritty country, raised by simple gritty parents.

But if you don’t have all that going for you, and you really want to improve your handshake, you’re going to have to start tiptoeing.

And I can understand why you’d want to improve your handshake – because a good sturdy (gritty even) handshake never wanes in popularity.

Even if they don’t shake your hand, folk like to know you’ve got a good handshake. It’s like hearing positive credentials of other people.

“Have you heard about Sam’s quality handshake?”

“Yes, I have, stop going on about it, it’s not news.”

But maybe even more perpetually IN is the dislike of a weak handshake.

I shook a chap’s hand once, though it wasn’t so much a ‘handshake‘ as he put so little effort in I may as well have just grabbed his wrist and waggled the hand so the fingers flapped about in the breeze I was causing.

The shake was so bad, I think other people could overhear the flapping and started to stare.

Fair enough though, as I was starting to stare too.

His hand was so limp, it felt wet.

Flaccid to the point of liquid – that’s a negative and no mistake, especially in the realm of body part functions.

‘Body part functions’ – sounds like there are galas and dinner parties taking place across your body. I might suggest to my wife, “say, darling, I’m having a bit of a shindig in my groin area – fancy bringing a bottle”, and she’d say “no” because even in absolute fiction I have the capacity to revolt my most beloved with utter nonsense.

However, a banquet in the hand – that’d be superb for your grip strength, and if there was music and dancing afterwards, you could even squeeze in some tiptoeing.

So, yes a mighty handshake is what the people want, and they never shan’t.

A bit like volcanoes.

Great for the garden is a volcano, and really super duper if you’re in need of some very new rocks.

That’s a thought, as how often do you encounter a rock that is a matter of a few minutes old, depending on how long it took to cool?

That’d be excellent for the Pet Rock industry.

Visit Hawaii, wait for the regular traffic of lava to make it’s way down your street, don’t touch it (just don’t touch it) and once it has stopped and begun to cool, you can actually witness your Pet Rock being born.

By golly that’d be a tradition I’d heartily invest in. Perpetually, in fact.

All the best,

Sam