A Fond Farewell

This won't come as a surprise to the lonely few that read my blog, but I've decided not to post here any more. I have another blog for writing (which I won't post a link to for various personal reasons) where I update regularly. It has been interesting, and quite fun sharing my tango adventures with people.

Besos y abrazos.

Thoughts on Music

I've listened to what we in the tango community term nuevo music long before I started dancing tango, in fact I started listening to dance music back when disco was all the rage.

Back in the early 90's, disco re-invented itself by calling itself techo. When I moved here in 1999, I used to scrounge the electronic/techno section at HMV looking for great techno music. Like tango music, not all of it sounds great.

In the '90's, Stephan Pompougnac released his first Hôtel Costes compilation. His third cd included the song "Last Tango in Paris" by the Gotan Project. When I started dancing tango, that connection was enough to push me in two ways. I purchased Gotan Project cds, but also purchased Stephan Pompougnac's compilations and individual cds as well.

That gave me a broad base to choose from when I started to create a playlist. But I discovered music for enjoyment doesn't always translate well to music for danceability. Techno music breaks into two categories: songs with a very regular beat, or songs with a very jazz inspired sound.

In my opinion, the jazz inspired nuevo music doesn't work for dancing tango. No beat or rhythm exists to latch on to. And the other, regular beat should never be confused with tango with its long sweeps and dramatic pauses. But they are perfect for the regularity of the milonga rhythms.

I'm On

Tonight I dj for the first time. I have my playlist locked and loaded and my iPod (two actually, just in case) charged and ready to go. Right now, I'm listening again, just to make sure that my music choices will create that amazing tango connection we all know when we experience it. And to make sure the cortina only plays 30ish seconds of the song like it is supposed to.

Not only could I create the foundation for an amazing evening, I've also got the potential to wreck an evening for an entire group. And a group with visitors. Okay, breathing now. Reminding myself I can do this. Wow, the pressure.

But hey, if nothing else, I'd dance to this.

Dj-ing

Looks like I'm going to take a small step sideways from the dance floor to the dj booth. Well, that might be a huge step. It won't be regular, only the occasional Sunday night for the practica. I have one night worth of music set up. This could be exciting. Or a bit like jumping into the deep end of a swimming pool when you don't know how to swim. My first night will either be October 18th (depending on whether the guest teacher also wants to dj) or October 25th. Cross your fingers and wish me luck.

Or come out and laugh--your choice.

Art (or Creativity) and Ego

Last night watching So You Think You Can Dance (Canada), a fellow got eliminated in a fit of ego (mostly his). He also tried out last year, and wound up disqualified at the same point--ballroom. The judges pointed out that last year he also had trouble with this form of dance and that he should have expected it to come up again this year and prepare himself by taking a few classes.

He rolled his eyes. Yes, rolled his eyes. So they tried to instruct him, give him pointers on how to improve. Not a bad concept, after all the judges are all professionals and teaching is part of what professionals do.

He rolled his eyes. Yep, again. After much chest thumping swagger and eye rolling on his part, he stormed off the stage, dragging his enormous ego behind him. He yelled at everyone from the judges to the camera man (who lapped up the drama and followed him for several minutes of amazing, over-the-top ranting).

Wow, I did mention the guy had a big ego, right?

Which brings me to the point of this post.

In the arts of any form, park your ego at the door. Take classes, watch YouTube, ask questions. Give yourselve a large dose of humility and learn from those that are better than you are.

And never, ever assume you've arrived and are the best.

Because you might just find out you are wrong.

On Following

Last night at tango, I watched someone I'd consider a top follow dance with a fellow from Argentina. What I saw made me question my own dancing (as it so often does). If this person lacked extension, didn't have any dis-association and bad posture, how do I look when I dance? I've often wondered that.

Anyone want to volunteer to take a video?

More Corpse Pictures

So the corpses are trickling home. I need to get my brain to figure out how to do a photoshop thingamy on all the pictures. Now that they've started arriving at their home destinations, I can reveal that not only did I intend for each corpse to look a certain way, but for each piece to look like one corpse if read sideways. Hum, that's not very clear when you read it.

I've got background fabric rust dyed and ready to go for my own unfractured figure, just haven't gotten it started yet.

So here is the intention:

The Lady

Well, my corpse is home and I finally found the time to take pictures of her. Here she is in all her glory:



And a square by square view:

Head:



Upper torso:



Torso (complete with fully bendy arm):



Lower torso:



Feet (don't you love her fuzzy pink slippers):



The words read:

Black bell sweetly undulating creepy tombstone.

That one might need some punctuation.

40 Years Ago Today

The first man walked on the moon. I still remember sitting with my parents watching that incredible event. I always expected that by now, we would have colonies living on the moon. Isn't life strange. Now the space program barely exists, except as science fiction. For a small period of time though, fiction and fact melded into one reality.

Creep Factor

I've decided on my writing blog to do daily writing prompts. I'm a smidgen surprised what comes out of my head, though. Not really urban fantasy, just very strange stuff. This one started out courtesy of Trevor who gave related an interesting little story. I used that to pose some what if questions. I didn't realize it would involve a book burning (gone wrong of course).

Ooh Travel

In my inbox this morning I received a post from Chris Guillebeau on his upcoming around the world trip. He sent a link on ways to purchase a round the world plane ticket.

Oh gee, you know what I want to do now, don't you.

The Reservoir

I subscribe to a blog called the Happiness Project. I came across it at a point in time when things felt a bit bleak for me. Most of my life I've been a cheerful person, but the last few years have tried me almost to the breaking point. Although a number of things that occurred are by no means the worst I've experienced in my life, they felt like almost insurmountable odds.

Then today, she posted this quote from Samuel Johnson:

It is a common mistake on the part of cooler, self-contained natures to assume that those who have a giving and ebullient character are what they are only because they cannot help it—that they are fed from a spring that will never stop rather than a reservoir that can be exhausted. Hence the feeling of stark disbelief or unpleasant shock on the part of others when the reservoir of effort and energy—for it turns out to be a reservoir—is almost gone….the principal reward for those who give lavishly rather than meagerly is the expectation that they remain true to form and continue to give.

And burst into tears. Yep, now I understand. Hum, now to figure out how to refill the well. I think my trips to Argentina are the beginning of that renewal. I felt the best I've felt in years during my last trip.

I try now to limit time spent around those that would drain that reservoir. Like Johnson said, those without the reservoir would drain us completely dry without thought to our own emotional energy. Because they think our energy/joy is limitless, they don't think to help us renew. Ask me how I know.

I used to be the ebullient person. And I remember every day what I've lost and how badly I want to be me again.

A Little Leonard Cohen Love

Okay I'll confess. I love Leonard Cohen. I first heard him on CBC sometime in the '90s. I remember sitting in my car listening to find out who this amazing poet was. His voice is gravely and I know many don't like it. But the poetry. OMG, he could sing to me any time he likes. In fact, I came back from Argentina earlier than I could have just to go to his concert. Screamed myself hoarse and wound up so exhausted I almost fell asleep in the second half, but worth every minute.

Two people recently mentioned that they don't like his song "Hallelujah". Both people mention that the song only has one word repeated over and over again. That word being hallelujah.

Um, no. It is a song about David and Bathsheba and Samson and Delilah (thus the reference to hallelujah as we are talking love of biblical proportions). Both are love stories laced with obsession. David saw Bathsheba sunbathing (naked) on his neighbours roof. And decided he had to have her for himself. To obtain her, David sent Bathsheba's husband into battle where he died. Um, yeah.

Samson was so obsessed with Delilah that he allowed her to bind him and cut off all his hair. Doesn't sound so bad, except he lost all his superhuman strength when she did.

Yep, a song that only has one word in it. Here it is so you can read the other words it also includes:

"Hallelujah"

Now I've heard there was a secret chord
That David played, and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you?
It goes like this
The fourth, the fifth
The minor fall, the major lift
The baffled king composing Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah
Hallelujah

Your faith was strong but you needed proof
You saw her bathing on the roof
Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you
She tied you
To a kitchen chair
She broke your throne, and she cut your hair
And from your lips she drew the Hallelujah

Baby I have been here before
I know this room, I've walked this floor
I used to live alone before I knew you.
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
Love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

There was a time you let me know
What's really going on below
But now you never show it to me, do you?
And remember when I moved in you
The holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

You say I took the name in vain
I don't even know the name
But if I did, well really, what's it to you?
There's a blaze of light
In every word
It doesn't matter which you heard
The holy or the broken Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah

I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you
And even though
It all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah

Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah, Hallelujah
Hallelujah

And yes, I know not everyone like Leonard Cohen. It is all a matter of personal taste (even if I tease you if you don't like him).

The World According to Seuss

Because I like it when the people around me are happy, the odd time I need a smack upside the head reminding me that I'm not responsible for other people's happiness. There is one person I know that is never happy with... well, my existence. This individual has said things that have ruined one relationship and possibly damaged others. To repair the one relationship, I'd have to say things best left unsaid. Defend myself by cutting another person down? Not going to happen. But as a result there is a trail of hurt feelings and confusion (or at least in my mind).

Then the other day I ran across this quote by Dr. Seuss:

"Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind."

Yeah. That's it. Sometimes I forget not to care what certain individuals think about me. Being who I am in this situation, without all the walls and barriers I've created to keep myself safe... wow, that's a challenge. Is it worth the risk? Certainly, if it repairs that one broken relationship.

And right now, I've actually got nothing to loose.

Wait and See

In the end I went to the cafe to dance (of course). In reality there was never much doubt that I would. It will be interesting to see what happens from this. I thought of staying home, knowing full well that if I did, certain people would claim I'd gone elsewhere to dance. Granted, I posted on facebook that I thought any decision would be a bad one (even though for me it came down to going to the cafe or staying home).

My support probably doesn't count for much any more because of the malicious rumours someone else started about me, but at least in my own heart I know I did what was right.

Dilemmas

I didn't actually realize Tango by the Sea is this weekend. Not that it makes much difference. I'm too broke to attend anyway. But apparently they have a milonga planned for Friday night. Which means the cafe will be deserted--the cause of my dilemma. With no one to dance with, staying home makes the most sense. Why bother wasting both time and money to sit around and look--bored.

Oh right, I remember. Gossip. And not the good kind. The kinds where certain person(s) will accuse me of going to the dark side.

Which wouldn't be true. I shouldn't care, but I already find myself unable to fit within the local tango community. And lies of that nature hurt.

So the question is, do I ensure no one lies about my whereabouts by going in on Friday or do I choose to stay home and get some writing done. In the end maybe it isn't such a hard decision. After all, I know the truth.

Don't Stare

We've all heard it, learned and accepted it as universal behaviour. Staring is considered rude. And I've lived by that rule for my entire life.

Enter Buenos Aires. You know, that whole cabaceo. Here at home, we talk about how tricky it is to figure out. It exists on a plane we don't understand. One that involves outright staring. No subtlety. No looking away. Just complete eye contact until the guy breaks off or asks you to dance, which ever comes first.

My first trip to Argentina, my upbringing overrode my instincts and I couldn't maintain eye contact up to that break-away point. I'd always wind up looking away first. Which gave the guy the signal that I wasn't interested. Although I knew I'd missed something, I had no idea what.

That didn't happen on my second trip. This time, I wanted to get kissed. I knew in order to do that, I had to signal interest. Enter the stare. Ha, no breaking eye contact for me. It netted me a ton of dances (and not a shabby number of kisses either).

Now I'm home. Where staring shouldn't be allowed again. Except I keep forgetting. Last night, I went to the theatre with friends. During the intermission, I'm talking to one of them and a very attractive fellow walked by. I stopped talking. Mid sentence. And stared at him. Until out of sight.

My friend pointed out that she'd noticed him earlier as his seat was only two rows ahead of us. Oh. Nice. I was comfortably nestled in my seat by the time he returned. Instead of sitting he stood as if looking for someone. Maybe he'd already spotted my adorable blond friend. I did mention she's adorable, right? Then our eyes met. And I didn't look away. Neither did he.

I realized enjoying a moment of eye contact here at home is just as wonderful as it was in Buenos Aires. This time, it didn't lead to a dance or even a kiss, but there will be other moments and I intend to look at them all.

Missing Buenos Aires

I'm having a hard time re-adjusting to life at home. I miss Argentina so much it resembles homesickness. I think every night of the dancing and how much I want to return to once again experience the crowded milongas. How much I long for that certain embrace, the sense of complete bliss from a perfect dance.

I dream of the men and their tender kisses. Thinking about it today, I realized I had forgotten how wonderful it feels when someone kisses you like they want to give you something, not take it from you.

Every day I check my email, just in case kikki and Eduardo found something for me. And I'll continue to check every day until they do.

That's It

Well, the last milonga has been danced for this trip. Tomorrow I catch a plane home. I spent an absolutely wonderful day with kikki and Eduardo. It was the perfect ending to the time I spent here. We went to a corner parillia near Eduardo's new studio and ate so much carne I didn't think any more would fit. Then we went for coffee and dessert and sat some more. We talked about tango and culture, connection and so much more.

kikki is going to keep her eye out for an apartment in Palermo for me. Yipee. That makes me very happy. She said that as the US economy suffers, the Argentine has gotten stronger. I'm sure that is true elsewhere as well. I'm not in a rush, though. Hopefully I'll know enough Spanish by then to be able to communicate. They want me to come back again in November (of course). OMG, do I wish I could.

Sigh, Almost Over

Wow, down to three days remaining. I find myself unwilling to run around and do the tourist thing. Much like my last trip, I behave more like I live here. I haven't yet picked up anything for two of my girls, mostly because I don't know what to bring back for them. Neither would wear the exquisite silver jewellery for sale at the street markets. I'm thinking maybe scarves, but I'm not sure if they would use them.

So instead, I bought a small bag of strawberries--the best I've eaten in years. I remember picking wild strawberries with my mom. These taste much the same. OMG, moan worthy.

Then, I thought of the small bookstore, Fedro Libros, on Carlos Calvo. I purchased the new Bajofondo CD and Truman Capote's book In Cold Blood. In Spanish. That meant I needed a Spanish/English Dictionary. The whole thing cost me 80 pesos (so little less than $30). Now to try to read a book without really comprehending what I'm reading--sort of the way I learn anything.