“Don’t Dream it. Be it.”-Richard O’Brien, The Rocky Horror Show.
I am enthralled in the marvellous mayhem that is rehearsals for The Rocky Horror show. I am spinning like a top but am also squealing “weeeeeeeeee!” like a kid on a swing. I love musical theatre! I’m not sure which day it was on that God created the homosexual, but I am sure that he created the Musical shortly thereafter. I didn’t study musical theatre or dance like most of my fellow cast members and am still quite ignorant about a lot of things that the genre’ is made up of but, like a handsome stranger, I know that I like it and that I want it in my life. The days zoom by and we spend all day running around, singing, dancing and learning new things. It’s like kindergarten without the powder paints and crushed egg shells. The cast is phenomenally talented and I am so entranced with the wonderful world of Transsexual Transylvania, that all my previous concerns have just “poof!” disappeared (Someone tell that to my credit cards.)
There are other perks as well. Because of the constant singing and dancing your body gets ripped and you get to dress up in fishnet stockings and grind your crotch against attractive, talented people and on top of that get paid! Why would I possibly want to do anything else with my life? I’m not sure why anybody does anything else really. I might have to cut my gushing short because I would hate society to lose thousands of much needed farmers, neurosurgeons and aeronautical engineers when they discover how wonderful it is to be a performer in a musical. Other than the show I also have a new man in my life. His name is Martin and he has brought both direction and a refreshingly crisp British accent into my world. I am completely enamoured with him. He is a fantastic GPS application that came with my new phone and I now feel like there is nowhere in Johannesburg (or the world for that matter!) that I cannot go. I talk back to him and am sure to thank him when he suggests I turn left or right at an approaching intersection. He’s very clever and just because he isn’t a real person does not mean I should compromise my concept of good manners and decorum. Otherwise I am still flying solo and -to be perfectly honest- it’s turned into a rather pleasant flight (despite some initial turbulence.) I’m good company and my conversations with myself are becoming more eloquent and animated by the day. I’m looking forward to seeing how they will develop. I know I probably sound like a thin gay version of Shirley Valentine, but I’m enjoying myself anyway (in every way possible.)
Perhaps if Robert Mugabe, and Jackie Selebi were more musically inclined the world would be a better place. Then again Jacob Zuma has already been heading that way with his classic “Umshini Wami!” which is after all a musical ode to the AK47. Maybe it is just The Rocky Horror Show specifically that would be the solution? Winnie could be Magenta, Nkosazana, Columbia, Zuma, Frank ‘n Furter (being the master of seduction that he is.) Then Mugabe could rather fittingly be the deformed alien Riff Raff who becomes the new commander and kills everybody at the end with a beam of pure anti-matter (lack of food and medical resources are basically the same thing.) I think I’ll put in a proposal to Mbongeni Ngema first thing in the morning and rename it Mugabe: The musical. I wonder if the NAC would fund it?
I am enthralled in the marvellous mayhem that is rehearsals for The Rocky Horror show. I am spinning like a top but am also squealing “weeeeeeeeee!” like a kid on a swing. I love musical theatre! I’m not sure which day it was on that God created the homosexual, but I am sure that he created the Musical shortly thereafter. I didn’t study musical theatre or dance like most of my fellow cast members and am still quite ignorant about a lot of things that the genre’ is made up of but, like a handsome stranger, I know that I like it and that I want it in my life. The days zoom by and we spend all day running around, singing, dancing and learning new things. It’s like kindergarten without the powder paints and crushed egg shells. The cast is phenomenally talented and I am so entranced with the wonderful world of Transsexual Transylvania, that all my previous concerns have just “poof!” disappeared (Someone tell that to my credit cards.)
There are other perks as well. Because of the constant singing and dancing your body gets ripped and you get to dress up in fishnet stockings and grind your crotch against attractive, talented people and on top of that get paid! Why would I possibly want to do anything else with my life? I’m not sure why anybody does anything else really. I might have to cut my gushing short because I would hate society to lose thousands of much needed farmers, neurosurgeons and aeronautical engineers when they discover how wonderful it is to be a performer in a musical. Other than the show I also have a new man in my life. His name is Martin and he has brought both direction and a refreshingly crisp British accent into my world. I am completely enamoured with him. He is a fantastic GPS application that came with my new phone and I now feel like there is nowhere in Johannesburg (or the world for that matter!) that I cannot go. I talk back to him and am sure to thank him when he suggests I turn left or right at an approaching intersection. He’s very clever and just because he isn’t a real person does not mean I should compromise my concept of good manners and decorum. Otherwise I am still flying solo and -to be perfectly honest- it’s turned into a rather pleasant flight (despite some initial turbulence.) I’m good company and my conversations with myself are becoming more eloquent and animated by the day. I’m looking forward to seeing how they will develop. I know I probably sound like a thin gay version of Shirley Valentine, but I’m enjoying myself anyway (in every way possible.)
Perhaps if Robert Mugabe, and Jackie Selebi were more musically inclined the world would be a better place. Then again Jacob Zuma has already been heading that way with his classic “Umshini Wami!” which is after all a musical ode to the AK47. Maybe it is just The Rocky Horror Show specifically that would be the solution? Winnie could be Magenta, Nkosazana, Columbia, Zuma, Frank ‘n Furter (being the master of seduction that he is.) Then Mugabe could rather fittingly be the deformed alien Riff Raff who becomes the new commander and kills everybody at the end with a beam of pure anti-matter (lack of food and medical resources are basically the same thing.) I think I’ll put in a proposal to Mbongeni Ngema first thing in the morning and rename it Mugabe: The musical. I wonder if the NAC would fund it?
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