James’ Weblog

About two hours ago I had a flashback and a realization about injuries. I was doing a light improvization game with Annie and my left hand collided with her knee.  To think of it, this is probably not the best time to be typing a whole long story–ouch!  We all heard a snap! and I stood up in this shocked pose waiting for the inevitable pain and/or kinesthetic knowledge that something was wrong (or right).  I didn’t know what was going on, so I waited for what seemed like an eternity.  In actuality it was probably ten seconds before I darted out of the studio and got ice.     Is it just me, or do people faint whenever their hands or feet get injured?  I think it’s just me.  Whenever my hands get hurt I start to get light headed and have to lay down.  It’s a strange thing.  I think about it in terms of an instinctual animalistic quality, but haven’t quite figured out the advantage of this body mechanism on the African plains while chasing down an antelope, suddenly cracking a knuckle on a tree limb, then having to go lay down.  What does that serve?!  But, this is my body. I iced myself and reclined in the hallway.     Strangely, a little over three years ago, I broke the same finger in a production at undergrad in Berkeley.  I was in a piece called “The Disaster Series: The Continuation” (irony noted) choreographed by Joe Goode.  I was all set to perform as a dancer and as an actor in this piece.  Seven days before opening night we all heard an unwelcome Snap!  This time my hand collided with the floor, doing a squirrel sideways dive, meeting with an ample amount of flour, cornstarch, and water (from my sweaty palms, and from the rainy “deluge” scene just prior to my dance).  The stage effects were beautiful, but the result was less than desirable.  I remember thinking, “it’s just a dislocated knuckle.”  If only someone would pull on it hard enough I would be fine.  Lizz Burritt and I were convening just behind the little wall flat upstage; she had both hands wrapped around my sad left hand ring finger and was preparing to pull it as hard as she could.  Luckily, she couldn’t bring herself to pulling it.  After lying down for fifteen minutes, someone asked if I’d like to go to the ER.  I said, “yes,” reluctantly.  It was broken.  Bless her heart–the girl who took me (in the show as well) reassured me that it would be fine, and that I would definitely be able to dance in the show.  I was cut and replaced.  Fortunately, I was an actor too and was able to do that role, but the next seven days were spent teaching another man my parts.  On top of that I had a cast on my left arm and felt like crap.  It was an emotional roller coaster filled with life’s big questions, one armed downward dogs, and more than a few trips to the homeopathic herb stores in Berkeley.    This entire saga is what flashed through my mind for the ten seconds while I was standing there in the studio, dazed and unable to answer Julie Fox’s pressing question, “Is it broken?” I had to go get an X-ray, and was there less than an hour after it happened.  This is what dancers deal with on a daily basis, if not injury–the possibility of injury around every improvization game, pirouette, and handstand. 

This is from the show, “The Disaster Series: The Continuation,” that I mention above.

Just for laughs, and to see some genius art.

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