So, umm, this is my seat for Thursday night’s New York City Opera gala concert performance of Barber’s Antony & Cleopatra at Carnegie Hall.
I figured if I’m going to be running the place and all, I should probably show face.
I couldn’t afford the $1,000 it takes to get into the black tie affair before the concert. I’m not against the idea of a gala fund raiser, but if I had that kind of money to drop on a dinner, I’d just flat out buy the City Opera and be done with it.
But I’m seriously excited about the concert. I’ve a growing affinity for Barber. Lauren Flannigan can be fierce and ferosh. And Teddy Tahu Rhodes is all around delish.
I suppose it might not seem professional to admit that I’m attracted to one of the performers. But come on. Like Balanchine and Robbins weren’t going gaga over all the pretty boys that came waltzing through their halls, mounted on the stage for all the upper crust to oggle and pretend they’re not totally staring at the butt cracks of all the male dancers. (At least, that’s what I do when I go to the ballet. Well it isn’t the only thing I do, but it’s definitely a major part of the experience.)
And speaking of rears…
If anyone–T. Bone, A. Ro., The Board of Directors, Mr. Kaiser, Ms. Baker, people from the cast of I Am City Opera; ANYONE–has anything you want to say to me/offer me/throw at me, you’ll know where to find me on Thursday:
Rear Balcony, seat M5.
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Actually, Balanchine was famously interested in female butt cracks, not male. Maybe you’re thinking Lincoln Kirstein?
Gay or straight, it’s pretty hard to resist a nicely sculpted dancer butt.
I suppose we can throw Bernstein in there as well.