I have to go to mail box, post office, rather, and deal with DMV and a few niggling but tiny bills... But who can think of such things when the Luigi schedule for July arrives. It is not that much and I can handle it but Mom encourages my dancing and I know she'll help.
Here it is!!
Monday-Friday: Workshop Intensive (Private): 10-10:50, Style Class: 11-12:30, Break (30 min), Intermediate/Advanced Class: 2-3:30, Repertory: 2:30-3:30
Monday: Technique 7-8:30, Thursday: Style Class, 7-8:30.
Optional for 13 bucks more: Technique Class 7-8:30, Tuesday and Wednesday.
Saturday: Workshop Intensive (Private): 10-10:50, Style Class: 11-12:30, Workshop Presentation: 12:30-1. Intermediate/Advanced: 1-2:30.
OH MY GOD. This is how I spent my summers from 8th to 11th grade. Of course I was taking buses and hitching rides before I was 16, though when I got sexually assualted at 15, by an asshole in a cream beat-up Chevy, which violated my rule of only hitch-hiking with women in BMW, Mercedes, or the equivalent, I stopped hitching for 9 months till I got my license on the morning of my 16th birthday, and drove the new Toyota Tercel coupe Grandma had bought me the month before, to Hama's 6PM class in Venice. His Jazz 2 which was very advanced.
I have to start going to the Studio City studio and will pull up the schedule. I have to start with some Jazz 1 and beginning classes as I can do a pathetic single pirouette and there is no way in hell I can do a respectable double.
Happy dance commencing presently!!!!!
(P.S: PSA for friends with girls. You have to drive them or give them cab money to their various activities. I took a ride on Sunset and Amalfi, close to Riviera Country Club where no house is under 5 million now. Reagan's ranch was up Capri all the way by Casale road, a few houses down from Abbie Schiller, a girl in carpool, whose dad Bob wrote I Love Lucy... Tommy Chong and Shelby , his lovely wife, live up there too and Shelby was in my dance class and gave me rides at times home to the Palisades.
So just hitching in areas with multi-million dollar houses is no guarantee of personal safety. I was late and there was just no time to take three buses. So I took a ride with this guy with a mustache--maybe this is where my hatred of mustaches originated--and within 45 seconds his penis was out doing peculiar things I did not understand. He pulled me toward him, tried to get me to touch it, and I started to scream in horror. The he sped up the piece of shit Chevy he was driving, chipped paint and big dents--and I screamed more. He pulled me over to him--no bucket seats in this old sedan in 1987--and I unleashed a torrent of words (I know that's a shocker): "If you don't let me out of this car right now I"m going to jump (no power locks), and then I'll get run over and I'll be killed and you will have it on your conscience that you killed a woman. Are you prepared to deal with that consequence??" He slowed down to about 3 or 4 mph , and I rolled out of the car with my dance bag. And then I limped back up to my parents house up the hill by the state part.
They were at the boat as usual. I lived alone at the house in the Palisades, while they were at the boat in the Marina from about 14 or 14.5 yrs old. And I never told them as I knew they would be very angry with me. I was pretty shaken up and just took a bath and went to sleep , obviously not making it to dance and I think my girlfriend Karin came over to spend the night, but perhaps I canceled our date.
I didn't really have a choice. My parents were at the boat. Public transportation sucks in Brentwood and Pacific Palisades to this day. Once you get to Santa Monica , it's fine, as the Big Blue Bus is frequent and runs along many main streets. I was okay but honestly, I think my aversion to the male organ which lasted well into my thirties, though of course intercourse did not bother me, originated in this unpleasant episode.
So really, if you have kids, part of the deal is either driving them to all the shit they have to do--dance, piano, band, tennis, debate, extracurriculars...--or paying someone to do so for you, even if that means just putting them in a cab. Especially if you have girls, it's very important to make sure they have safe and reliable transportation. If I had not taken a ride with this man, and kept to my rule of affluent women in luxury cars , it would have been fine. But a young girl should NEVER EVER take a ride with a man, whether he's in a Porsche or an old beat up Chevy sedan.)
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