Writing a Letter

A friend from college, one of my favorite people in the world actually, started a letter writing project. She sent an email with her address and asked to send mine. This afternoon I received my first letter! It's so strange, how excited I am. Time and thought went into writing this letter. The stationary, the little drawings, the ideas, the licking of the stamp and careful placement, the walk to the postbox. I feel special :)

Send me your address. I'll write you a letter.
laetiçiavp[at]gmail[dot]com

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More on hope...

He called today. We didn't speak long and after I hung up I didn't feel sure or unsure about him. I'm interested mostly because he's interested, but I don't know much about him. I don't know his character. I get nervous when I don't know what I'm getting myself into.

We have a date on Saturday. I'm hoping for a connection, but i gotta stay cool. No sense in getting my self all worked for nothing, just in case.

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The trouble with hope...

is that the higher you get, the harder the fall.

I'm cynical that way. Especially when it comes to romance. I designed the lighting for a friend's showcase a few weeks ago. One of the performers hit me up on Myspace with his number. He's cute and very talented, but my instinct is to not get too excited. I don't know him and I can't get caught up on account of all the craziness I'm juggling right now. But I called him and he gushed. I'm flattered for sure, but I don't want get bigheaded about it.

But, what if?

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On: The Act of Not Crying

Somewhere in my childhood, I learned that crying was a sign of weakness. Man or woman, child or adult. Crying, and all its accompanying emotions are to be suffocated or, at the very least, relegated to dark, private rooms where you couldn't bother everyone with you sniffling. I don't know where I got that idea. My mom didn't cry when I was young. Then, in my teenage years, the men in my mother's life (my dad, her brothers) began to fall and fall apart. I remember for a long time feeling a deep seeded disgust for my mom, because she just couldn't get past her grief and misery and just keep it together. I hated it and I couldn't feel pity for her. I went to school the morning after my father died. It was two years later, in a college, chatting about men and love with my girl friend, that I first truly felt the weight of my dad's passing. I basically exploded in front of her, feeling dizzy, out of control and deeply deeply sad. I felt like I'd surrendered or that I'd lost the war.

Since then, that's pretty much how I handle the tough stuff; push it into the corners where I can forget about it and continue with everyday life dealing with the full force when it all bubbles over. I'm late to respond with my emotions. I would rather let things wash over me, leaving the decompressing for a safe private place where no one can tell me I'm weak and no one can see me lose.

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New Photos at Coney Island!

I found a photographer on Model Mayhem a few weeks ago, and I really dig her work. We met up and took new pics at Coney Islan (which I'm a ashamed to say I hadn't visited since I was about 7 years old). I gotta say, chemistry is everything! Though she was polite, we just didn't click and I was uncomfortable and I think you can see that in the pictures. She's young, so I'll cut her some slack, but I was really disappointed by the number of useless shots I ended up with and the number of imperfections in the workable shots. Take a look and leave your thoughts.

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Dali @ MoMA

I went to MoMA last night to see the Dali exhibit with my friend Sodi. Despite the rainy weather and the inevitable crowd (Free Fridays at MoMA are always a pain), I was happy to put my membership to good use. I'm not too familiar with Dali's less popular work, so it was really interesting to walk through the exhibit and see bits of his film work. I'm drawn to narrative art or art that I can find logical patterns and meaning in. He's got an excellent sense of humor and I especially enjoy Dali's darker, more twisted pieces. Though I wouldn't consider myself an art buff, it feels good to feel like "I get it".


I hardly get to see him anymore, but Sodi is one of my favorite people. We had awesome conversation about art and dance and cutlture vultures; why I'm not a fan of M.I.A and why I should stan for Santogold; why his art aesthetic is his and why mine is mine. A professor put it in my head that if I'm unable to say why I like or don't like something, my judgment basically has no weight and that being able to add to the discussion of a critique makes me a better artist. I don't get to flex those muscles as much as I would like to, so it was nice going back and forth with Sodi.

Twas a lovely evening indeed.

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Lighting Broadway Underground

I light a show at BBKings last night! AAAAHHHHHH!!! I'm beside myself! Jared Grimes, an incredible choreographer, teacher, and creator of Broadway Underground needed someone to fill in last minute and I happened to be in the right place at the right time. I know I said I'd given up production work, but this could not be passed up. BB Kings has moving lights dude! Are you kidding?! AHAHAHAH! I'm still beaming from it. The whole night was perfect, stressful, but everything I always loved about lighting. It's similar to dance for me. You breath with the board. You move with it. You plan and perfect. Ah, I had a blast!



The line up was sick too! Jared's choreography has always impressed me. He has phenomenal vision and as a tapper/hip-hop dancer, he's just effing talented! He invites musicians to perform as well. The Drumadics blew me away! And I loved the jam at the end where audience members get to come onstage to show their shit. Had I been able to relinquish my place behind the board, I woulda been up there too heheh!

Man! The perfect start to a new week. Check out the Broadway Underground website at www.broadwayunderground.org. Next show is happening soon!

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random chatter: karma, flying, and even more questions

1. This was a helluva week! Exciting. Exhausting. Frustrating. I'm rundown today. I didn't dance this week and that always puts me in a funky mood, sort of irritated and punchy. I finally exhausted all of my patience with a coworker who's personality tests my buddhahood daily. Everyone tip-toes around her. Even the higher-ups find themselves bowing down to her. This week, I gave up and gave back! And now she and I are not on speaking terms. Bump that! Just one less person to have to say hello to in the morning! Oy! Where does she get off?! Somebody needs to knock that sloppy (sic) off her damn high horse for real. Moving on...

2. That I didn't get Misnomer is starting to wear on me. Not because I really wanted that Company, but because I was so close to my dream. I know it's better this way, because it's even more clear to me that I would not have been a good fit for the Company, but I want to be dancing. And when I'm sitting around not dancing and I have to deal with the uppity fools I work with, I get on edge. So, I'm back on my grind, looking for that next audition, chanting for work and good karma.

3. I visited SLAM (Streb's homebase in Brooklyn) on Wednesday to take a rad trapeze class (pictures coming soon!) and decided not to go for the Streb audition later this month. I'm definitely not strong enough yet to fake my way through the stuff they'll be asking of me. Plus, it'll be a three-day audition that would force me to miss two days of pilates training, a day of work and another audition that I'm a lot more confident about. It doesn't seem like a worthwhile sacrifice. But, lucky me, because there were some technical issues with the trapeze that stopped the class for an hour and even though when all was corrected the crew stayed an hour later to teach the class anyway, I got a free class gift certificate! So I'm going back again in the next week or two. Fun!

4. I haven't seen Phil since June... about three months. He's been hitting me up constantly this last week. I'm pretty much ready to let go. I think he doesn't get that. The rest are starting to fall back... so strange. I think I'm repelling them. Because I don't feel so successful anymore and my cockiness is waning? Maybe.

5. It's hard to see people I danced with growing up or who are my age (or younger) become really successful dancers, while I'm struggling to find my way. I try not to compare because I know each one of us is different, with different strengths and different paths, but it's hard not to be envious. I want to be dancing full-time. I want to be a successful, admired, talked-about performer. So what am I doing? Am I doing it right? Am I making good decisions? These have been some of my rush hour thoughts all week. It's so busy in here!

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On: Jonté, the people's talent

One of my favorite people in the world, no matter how big Jonté gets, he never loses genuine interest in how you're doing and always takes time to at least acknowledge your existence. I first met this fly young cat many years ago at Ailey and I remember being blown away by his sheer energy and performance style. He's so incredible to watch! Plus he's hilarious! And I find out now that the kid's got a great voice too! This video right here floors me every time! Check out the rest of Jonté's videos on his youtube channel.

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On: making time, making friends and everything in between

Somehow, though I've made a pact with myself to stop running around and to make more room on my schedule for me, I find myself falling back into my old routine running from A to B to across town for C and not having enough sleep, energy, and motivation to do it all. It wouldn't be so bad if I didn't have to negotiate and sacrifice to make my schedule work; having to give up the chance at a really awesome possible gig because I've over committed myself to other mundane low paying and convenient jobs. Oi! I suppose it's better to be too busy than to have lots of time and nothing to fill it with, so this lament is short.

Enough of that...



I got a lot done today. I hung lights for Kim Wayans' solo show A Handsome Woman Retreat that's going up at PS122 as part of the Solo Arts Festival. I had the great luck to watch a recorded version of Eric Lockley's Last Laugh, the other solo show that's on the bill with Ms. Wayans. I'm really excited to see that live and I recommend you all to check it out.



I made myself go to an audition this afternoon, for Syren Modern Dance. I'd watched some of the video on their gallery and I thought the company was worthwhile. I didn't expect to impress because the dances are very technical and I haven't been training the way I would like. I also walked in without having warmed up and with a lot on my mind, so I put it in my head early on in the hour that I wouldn't be kept. But, even in my funky mood and not so stellar performance, I got a callback. Hm! More on that on Thursday. I went instrument shopping this afternoon as well. I invited a drummer friend of mine to teach a music for dancers class at the school this weekend. It'll be good to see him :)

In other news...

I need to make myself a more social person. I need to change up my roster of friends, since many of the people who made up my tight little circle are finding other things (jobs, lovers, babies) to be committed to that are apparently more rewarding (or maybe more binding) than my friendship. SO... yea, I need to get out more and stop rolling solo to shit. I mostly need a crisis defuser these days.

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On: losing my last ally + good karma

1. I lost my last neutral ally at work yesterday. She's an Asian-American musical theater actress adopted by white folks. When I first met her, I got the sense she was someone I could relate to because like me, she's the only girl repping her people in the office; like me, her dance aesthetics spans further than what the school offers; like me, she's a no bullshit, low drama, "fuck it I'll do it myself" type of lady and she's easy to talk to and joke with.

It never occurred to me that the sort of out of pocket comments I catch coming out of the mouths of my white coworkers would ever come out of hers. Because she was my neutral ally. Neutral in that we weren't bound by our sex or our color or departments, but by our mutual respect and understanding of the other's daily fight. We can read each other's silences and dead pan expressions and side eyes. It's nice to have that sort of relationship in the workplace. Especially in this particular work place at a time when I'm coming to a crossroad and any little sly comment I overhear has me wanting to give up and get out. So you can imagine the remorse I felt yesterday afternoon when, in retelling a not so funny story, my neutral ally referred to another dancer and myself as "blackies". I questioned it before realizing what I'd heard and when she repeated it, I knew I'd lost one of the last things keeping me sane at that job.

A few weeks ago, I confronted my boss about using "nigger" in my presence. She's tall white mid-aged Bay area bred women who mentions at least once a day that she graduated from Columbia and at least once daily that she doesn't feel good. Working with her can be a struggle in keeping my positive outlook. She preaches positivity ad nauseam, but can be such a fiercely negative person. She talks shit about students and other coworkers. She's an attention whore and a bit of a megalomaniac. She regularly sticks her nose in shit that has nothing to do with her. She complains more than I can bear most days. She has a tendency to overreact and jump to conclusions which completely baffles me; don't you eventually learn why you shouldn't do that? All this of a Landmark Forum person. BUT... but she is a very good boss. She acknowledges me and rewards me. She's honest and open and I can say she's one of the best bosses I've had the pleasure of working with. She's been very supportive of my artistic ventures and was largely responsible for the total transformation of work ethic. I've learned so much about life and career and love and I actually owe a lot of my happiness to her.

Now, with all that said, it's tricky, raising the topic of racism and language with her and in a place like this. She suffers from that Carson Daily syndrome; Carson liked to switch up his host speak depending on the day's guest; that is, hood talk to the rappers, SAT language to politicians, and milquetoast to the teeny boppers. She likes to think she's down, which is fine, but remember that you're white and I'm black and you have no business saying "nigger" in my presence, no matter the context. I'm a fan of Quest and I think "Sucka Nigga" is a beautifully written etymological study of word. I don't need to hear you sing the lyrics word for fucking word right in front of me. I don't think you're hip. I don't think you're down. Yes, I do know the kind of person you are; like me you're curious about the world and it's people and their ways. But unlike me, you're not in the position to know why a filter is necessary when exploring. You've never had a noose drawn around your neck in a class photo. No one's ever called you "darky" or "nigger" or "nappy head hoe" or "black bitch". You're ignorant to my struggle. This is the same woman who was surprised by the number of black people who work at a health food market near the school and how nice and seemingly educated they are. The same women who says she doesn't know how to tell if a black man is handsome. I get it when it when she says she doesn't mean any harm and that she's just wants to know, but that doesn't make her comments any less out of pocket. And refraining from a word or being more aware of your words doesn't change the ideas you've got wired in you about a group of people.

This is my work environment. What is it about me that makes people think they can be that comfortable around me?

2. My wallet fell out of my bike basket yesterday morning as I was speeding to catch my train. There is a can collector who circles the train station every Friday. Sometimes, he talks out loud to no one in his strange voice about whatever is on his mind. He never bothers me much so I just ignore him and keep it moving. Well this strange old man was the one who found my wallet and handed it to the taxi stand at the train station. When I see him again, I going to thank him graciously and befriend him.

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I think I failed to mention...

in my post from this weekend, that I received my gohonzon on Sunday! This is apparently a momentous occasion in the SGI organization. I'm not sure I've completely grasped the magnitude of it. But then again, I'm not really sure what I've gotten myself into either. I came across this website the other day; sort of an idiot's guide to the general gist.

The gohonzon is an object of devotion used in many forms of Japanese Buddhism. The object varies among different Buddhist forms, but the gohonzon given to newcomers to Soka Gakkai (which practices Nichiren's teachings and his particular focus on the Lotus Sutra) is a scroll on which the Lotus Sutra is inscribed in Chinese and Sanskrit characters. It's a beautiful piece of art work. I feel special for having one.


Me, Chizuru, and Tomoko at the SGI Culture Center in Union Square, NYC.
December 30th, 2007

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a weekend in images

went out to celebrate sams and sharon's birthdays and got myself a little puma reunion. I have a crush on the guy licking my face. I'd let him do that all day.




Celebrating Kelley and Ryan separate birthdays. I can't remember which party was who's, but I love these fools :)



Finally preciosa Lenée celebrated the day of her arrival on this earth at my favorite Brooklyn spot Bembe.

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B(ack)logging: befriending creatives, tightening my circle, losing a legend

I've been away. Inconsiderately neglecting my one and one-half readers, off attempting to live a life worth blogging about. I thought to post separate entries for each of the listed items, but then decided against it after seeing the hour. I have many things to share and if I don't get it all down now, it will fall out of my head.

1) I've been meditating on the idea of finding creative compatibility among the people I know -- liking the people with whom I create and creating with people I like.

My sister and I are polar opposites in just about every respect, but the most distinctive difference between us is in the way we relate to others, our approach to relationships. Jessica is a witty, outgoing, smart, beautiful young woman with exotic, yet friendly features, a carefree attitude, and an wholesome belief that all people have at least some goodness, and so she treats them as such until they show they're figurative asses. She's a typical Libra: magnetic, casual, born to be social. Upon first meeting us, you may immediately notice the stark contrast. I am reserved and slow to initiate or alter the pace, direction, or depth of a relationship on any level -- I am an extreme follower in that respect. I need to have a clear understanding of the association and all possible trajectories as early on as possible, because being unsure makes me uneasy. I'm a “cuspian”, cursed with a double helping of shameful insecurities (bah!): Cancer is severely protective of her soft bits and will crawl into her shell until she feels it's safe to come out; Leo is always questioning, doubting, and it's fear (of rejection, humiliation, exposure) that keeps her away from people she can't easily read, or more accurately, people who read her more quickly. To top that, my looks are unremarkable, generic, vaguely African (Nigerian is the popular assumption these days), resembling a visiting cousin of high school friend many years ago, maybe. I think people find me inaccessible, familiar but not memorable.

Anyway, so I have a hard time with relationships, but I've been thinking about how much more well off I'd be in terms of my career, my love life, my general happiness, if I were better at them. Life is about relationships: collecting them, nurturing and maintaining them, letting them go. My life is about creating. Why aren't I more invested in relationships with people who create and inspire for a living? I live for the connection I have with Jessica. Why don't I have more of something close to that?!

2) I have a coworker who I once admired for his boldness against "cultural authorities", his breadth of knowledge, and, in spite of his obvious greatness, his unwavering humility. I wanted him to be my mentor. I wanted to learn from him and absorb his spirit. But then... but then he found Jesus and lost his damn mind. As it turns out, he's miles away from humble, obscenely arrogant actually, and far from saved. And he's a pathological liar who won't own up to his wrong doings! He condescends and then rants about lack of support from his peers. I have no need for him in my life.

As of this moment, I'm done with that man too.


3) Once, this guy asked me out on MySpace. He brought me to a swank vegan restaurant in the Village and then to SOBs to see Lucky Dube. He was doing all the right things: very gentlemanly, lots of compliments. But, to be honest, he lost me at “hello”. I didn’t forget Lucky Dube though – crazy energy, beautiful music, cool crowd. I fell in love instantly. Just a few days ago, the reggae legend was gunned down in front of two of his seven children. Read here

May his music be testimony to his greatness, may he rest in peace.

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Image of the Week: H U G (Pedro & I)

Pedro and I embrace in front of the Path Train entrance at World Trade Center. Swoon indeed!

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Images from the H U G Performance

Enjoy these images from the H U G Performance taken by one of the photographers who followed us the entire trip. We traveled from Union Square uptown on the east side to the Museum of Natural History across the park and downtown to the African Burial Ground Memorial (which is under construction) and the World Trade Center site. What I interpreted as the purpose of this project was to present a silent peace protest in the form of a site-specific performance art piece. I think the original vision include 20 or so couples embracing for 3 minutes at several locations around the city that harbor intense negative energy. The locations were all in Manhattan and were voluntarily submitted by random New Yorkers to the H U G Performance email address, along with a short description of the traumatic event they experienced there (as in a mugging or a death or a breakup, etc.) or a historic event that happened there. Our intension was to attempt to eliminate the negative energy in these public space and in turn helping the submitters grieve. I approached the project as if it were an exercise in meditation -- spreading my light for peace.

I must admit that I had a lot of trouble getting into the moment of the entire process. At the time of the final rehearsal, there were only 6 couples, which I think considerably lessened the intended effect and energy of the piece. When we left the Conflux Festival headquarters at noon, we were all amped to get to our first location and get through the 10 following sites the project would bring us to. We practiced with our partners (mine was Pedro... lucky me!), read the stories and memorized our positions. The first at Union Square was easy, and the next few continued to be easy, but by the time we got to the Museum and crossed the park, the physical exhaustion set in. We hit 7 locations in about 3 hours on foot and subway, approximately 70 blocks! And the action of the three-minute hug is taxing on the body as well. A couple has to negotiate weight change, balance, comfortable placement of limbs and skulls, etc.; individually, find a position that is comfortable is hard to pin point in just one step to your partner and because Julie (the director) wanted us to appear rooted and still for 3 whole minutes, voluntary weight shifting was out of the question.

Now, during the east side trip uptown, we inspired a lot of curiosity. It was when we arrived at the scene of a mugging at Port Authority on 41st Street that the heckling broke me down. The area west of Times Square is the stomping grounds of toothless junkies, street dwellers and all sorts of riffraff -- not exactly an ideal site for performance art. Unsurprisingly, we were heckled for three whole minutes. I being the only black female in the group, I received the brunt of the nasty comments and I broke from my embrace feeling pretty shitty. Finding myself at the African Burial Ground Memorial site a half hour later, I couldn't digest the weight of the place. My mind wouldn't stop. And when we made our way to World Trade, the last site, one person short, over an hour behind schedule and in the middle of p.m. rush, my thoughts began to clear. It was two days after the 6th Anniversary and construction had begun. The boom of metal against earth, the bustle of evening rush, fatigue, the heat and scent of my partner -- all of this slowed my mind, brought me back to the moment and to my purpose. I was beaming with gratitude and peace.

I hope I was able to share it.

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Blogging from the board... again

I've always wanted the type of friendship that felt more like marriage, a real best friend. I mean Jess is my best friend by default, but she lives so far away and she's my sister. I wish I had a buddy to go shopping with and chat with 'til the wee hours who wasn't blood related. Camille used to carry that distinction, but since she's started her family and I've become more proactive in developing a substantial career for myself, our relationship has taken a back seat. We still have fun when we get together, but it's so rare that we actually get together these days. This isn't to say that a friendship needs to be about spending every waking moment with a person. I mean, when I was away at school or when we could only spend weekends as a crew, our friendship was still teflon strong. It just seems that now priorities have changed between all of us and we're just starting to drift apart.

A long time ago, I wouldn't have believed that the day would ever come. But now that it has, at a time when I'm okay with letting things, people, patterns go, I'm willing to accept our new abbreviated friendship and move on. There are so many amazing people out there in the world... so many potential best friends. And I will always love my Camille like my own sister :)

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3 baby cakes -- one for each decade

I went to visit Anjali in her handsome south Billyburg digs this afternoon for a little funtime playdate eating little cakes, royal nail painting, makeup makeovers and a too short thrift shop excursion (lucky bitch has two just yards away from her door!). She's such a sweet lady and if I were ever inclined to do so, I would do her. She just turned 30 last week and so I brought her three tiny cakes. We talked about relationships and life as a starving artist and finding happiness in knowing what we want and trying to find the courage to just go get it. Good conversation and delicious cakes with a beautiful lady. I wish I had more friends like her.

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H U G Performance (NYC) by Julie Troost

H U G

Helping Us Grieve

a performance installation by Julie Troost

Thursday, September 13, 2007 12-4pm

Manhattan Streets

BE A PART OF IT

www.myspace.com/hugperformance

www.confluxfestival.org/conflux2007/hug

Groups embracing on busy sidewalks surprise New Yorkers rushing by.

The negative memories of personal and community conflict are healed by a simple gesture of compassion.

Surprising New Yorkers in the midst of their day, H U G (Helping Us Grieve) is a city-sweeping performance installation that travels across Manhattan. Appearing and disappearing without warning, pairs embrace for a little too long at each site before dispersing. The performers have a predetermined path to travel on public transportation between locations as well as specific times to execute each installation. The pairs are arranged in site-specific formations predetermined by each location's uniqueness.

Sites were designated ahead of time from suggestions made by the public of personal and community conflict, responding to postings on craigslist and the Conflux festival website. H U G blankets scarred urban spaces that contain the memory of a momentous event of conflict while reminding observers of the ability to heal.

BE A PART OF IT - Huggers and Camera Phone Artists Wanted! --Seeking members of the public to join H U G's migration through Manhattan or meet us at an installation site posted at www.myspace.com/hugperformance beginning Sept. 11.

PARTICIPATE IN TWO WAYS (you can do both): 1) Hug someone! Add yourselves to the hugging installations. 2) Photograph what you witness with your digital camera or camera phone and text or email photos to Flickr (see instructions below).

LET US KNOW YOU'RE COMING - email your name to: hugperformance@gmail.com by 11:59pm on Wed. Sept. 12 or meet us at The Change You Want To See, 84 Havemeyer St. (off Metropolitan), Williamsburg, Brooklyn by 11:30am on Sept. 13. (L train to Lorimer stop. Walk west on Metropolitan.)

FLICKR Instructions: 5MB photos max. OPTION 1: (preferred by H U G) Text Message or attach your photos to an Email and send to action83writ@photos.flickr.com Put the location in the subject line and your name in the body of the email so you are credited. One photo per email. OPTION 2: use your own flickr account and tag your photos with "hugperformance".

H U G is directed/choreographed by: Julie Troost

performed by: Noah Damer, Johnny DeArden, Jil Guyon, Pedro Jimenez, Amy Jones, Courtney King, Renee Kurz, Omar Nasir, Melissa Sanfiorenzo, Jamie Sporn, Genevieve Sky Waltcher

costume advisor: Renee Kurz

image and design by: Jed Geiman

H U G is presented by the Conflux Festival. Find out more at www.confluxfestival.org/conflux2007/

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Ezra Reich's Music Video for Emily

I haven't posted in while (since mid-July actually... all the entries you see for August were post-posted), mostly because I've been having trouble organizing my thoughts in a coherent manner -- I haven't had much time or energy to put any sort of order to my messy head. I've been on auto-pilot for the last few weeks, just trying to make it through one day at a time. I'm super fatigued and fending off stress induced illness, but I'm so grateful for the busyness. I would much rather be juggling multiple projects and losing my sanity than laying in bed obsessing over what I'm not doing. Anyways, the dust is settling, so I figured I'd get ahead of myself a bit and share some of what I've been doing to keep myself moving.

Ezra Reich, originally uploaded by lettuce_move.

These images were taken on the set of Ezra Reich's music video for Emily, a snappy, quirky little ditty about a girl who broke his heart, I think. I answered the casting call on Craigslist for hot dancers. We rehearsed in an SVA class room and shot in West Village. There was a lot of cheesy choreogarpahy, and lip syncing, and sequins and gratuitous hand slips by the artist (!), but the 12-hour day (unpaid!) was all around good fun. It was also a good lesson on staying positive and professional in the face of fatigue, superegos and amateurs. Lucky for me, both the choreographer, Chris, and the Director, Mike (?), took a liking to me. Plus Chloe (from Agora II) was a dancer in the video as well, so it was easy to be comfortable and have a good time. I appear twice in the video, once as a silver Ezra Girl and again as a regular New Yorker. When the video is ready for viewing, I'll post it. In the mean time, you can check out the track on Ezra's website: www.ezrareich.com

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