Post tango blues headache maybe a cold the cool approach of autumn colder than usual after all the embraces... counting down to next embrace listening to Troilo thinking feeling too much... Walking on a bridge that really isn't there between what can be and what is Walking on a bridge that is crumbling from dreams to daily hustle from goodbye to hello again from this time zone to that, and then to another with a tango stuck in replay over and over again... cada vez
Primero la cita lejana de Abril, tu oscuro balcon, tu antiguo jardin; mas tarde las cartas de pulso febril mintiendo que no, jurando que si. Romance de barrio, tu amor y mi amor, primero un querer, después un dolor por culpas que nunca tuvimos por culpas que debimos sufrir los dos.
First the far-off April rendezvous, your old-time garden, your balcony in darkness; then the letters of fevered pulse, lying no, and testifying yes. Neighborhood romance, your love and my love, first a desire, later a heartache over faults we were never guilty of, over faults that both of us had to suffer for.
Hoy viviras despreciandome, tal vez sin soñar que lamento al no poderte tener, el dolor de no saber olvidar... hoy estaras como nunca lejos mio, lejos de tanto llorar— fue porque si, que el despecho te cego como a mi sin mirar que en el rencor del adios castigabas con crueldad tu corazón; fue porque si, que de pronto no supimos pensar que es más facil renegar y partir que vivir sin olvidar...
You despise me today, perhaps without dreaming that I weep at not being able to keep you, the grief of not knowing how to forget... You're over me today like never before, you're over all the weeping— and all because spite blinded you the same as me, without showing you that the grudge of your goodbye punished your heart with its cruelty— and all because it was suddenly beyond us to imagine that it's easier to swear and walk away than to live without forgetting...
Ceniza del tiempo la cita de Abril, tu oscuro balcon, tu antiguo jardin, las cartas trazadas con mano febril, mintiendo que no, jurando que si. Retornan vencidas tu voz y mi voz trayendo al volver con tonos de horror las culpas que nunca tuvimos, las culpas que debimos pagar los dos.
Ashes of time, that April rendezvous, your old-time garden, your balcony in darkness, the letters drawn out with fevered hand, lying no, and testifying yes. In defeat they return, your voice and my voice, carrying back to us in pitches of horror the faults we were never guilty of, the faults that both of us had to suffer for.
I saw Pride and Prejudice last night. The 2005 version. There were a number dancing scenes that I really enjoyed watching. So much that I went on to read about English Country dancing. There are many interesting things written on it, and the articles all talk about the dance not as a form of physical performance but a social interaction, a way of practicing and expressing elegance, knowledge, and feelings. It made me reflect on our society today. Compared to earlier times there is much less dancing, dancing for the most part has evolved into something of a personal nature, most do not do it well. Our increasingly individualistic societies would make us believe that we, as individuals, are most valuable and capable beings, and yet most of us suck at performing individually. We individually are encouraged to sit in our personal homes, watch our personal TVs, eat our single serving TV dinners, to individually choose to wear the same jeans as a reflection of our personal choice and taste. Are we that dumb to not notice that we, individually, choose to behave exactly the same way. The result? A bunch of "individuals" who watch the same shows, eat the same foods, wear the same things, blissfully ignorant of their banal existence, and yet so painfully aware of their loneliness. Creating something as a society is a lost concept. When it happens it is rare and received with surprise and sometimes it is even looked down upon. How did we end up here? What does that say about our society? And it is not only in the USA that this is happening. Everywhere social dances which were at the center of social interaction have been reduced to something to learn for performance or role playing. My romantic side gave in as I was reading all this stuff, and for a split second I found my self wishing to live back in those days. Then my rationality kicked in and I revised my wish, my impossible wish of being transported in time to attend one of the country dances in those days. So at the end of the rant, I am going to share with you a bunch of links which are very interesting and describe the culture behind English country dances. I cannot promise it will improve your day, but most likely will make you day dream... dream away...
But seriously, sometimes I think that I am totally born in the wrong era. Current state of the world does nothing for my romantic, naive, and idealistic tendencies, and mostly leaving me to feel disillusioned. Tango is the only thing that saves me. Thankfully...
I know I know.. It has been a long time... Instead of explaining the reasons behind my silence, something that even I do not understand very well, I am going to dive into this post right in, just like jumping into the cold, clear, salty waters of the mediterranean in early summer, where the contrast between the hot days and cold seas makes you feel more than just alive... So let's see if this post has the same efect on me:) Milonga.. Yes it my new found love. I love listening to it, singing it, dancing to it.. Something clicked a while ago and just like that I switched from dreading milongas to loving them. I grew up I guess:) or Tango Gods thought it was time to turn the milonga switch on... I feel the connection is soo much more intricate during dancing the milonga. You can fit so much more conversation. Without good connection though it will be a cacaphony. Or... it can be really boring. In fact I remember dancing the milonga in the past and being really bored because I either felt like we were just marching around, or playing Choo choo train. You can only do that or like 15 seconds and then you get bored you know...Also navigation is even more important in milonga. But if you have the connection then it can be like two giddy kids chasing each other with a garden hose:, or playing tag. With milonga its really all or nothing. You either get bored to death or you have the time of your life. There is not in between.
Speaking of playing tag by the way, what the hell is wrong with the society these days: Take a look at this: Danger! Kids Playin Tag How are kids supposed to socialize, how are they to build character, learn to toughen up, learn to compromise, learn to associate with other human beings if they are micromanaged like this? People give kids way too little credit.
The most delicious, beautiful place? On human body? Corner of the mouth. Just where the upper and the lower lip unites and where the cheek starts. If I were to be a photographer, that would be a close up I would love to take of many many people, of old people with wrinkled faces and well used corners, and babys that have fat cheeks and dimpled corners, of smiles and crying faces... That is the most kissable part. That is the most intriguing part. The part that is closest to our hearts. Why? Eyes you say? What about eyes? Eyes can lie... I have seen eyes that seduce, can spy.... They are deadly, those hazel, those green, those blue eyes... But can corner of the mouth seduce? Can it lie? Can it black mail? Can it threaten? No! It is innocent, vulnerable, its only advantage is that not many people pay attention to it.. Corner of the mouth...It just tells the truth. If you are happy, content, pleasantly surprised, if you are having a good time, the corner of your mouth cannot help but curl up... And if you are unhappy, upset, sad, melancholic, it will sag. That is how one pouts. Its not the lips, it is the corner of your mouth that allows that... As a tango fanatic and a follower, I have a connection with the corner of the mouth... I close my eyes. I fall into the embrace. I inhale, I give in, I connect.. And when I feel like the one I am dancing with is dreaming along, my forehead on his cheek, I peek in between my eyelashes, and see the corner of his mouth. And that is.. my favorite tango moment. Because tango allows me to have that little window, laced with eyelashes,where I catch a glimpse of their utmost inner parts, the mirrors of their souls, and yet, it is like a flash that explodes in all its whiteness and brilliance.. And before I know, the tanda ends, we thank each other. I wonder, much later, how can I know so much of him, but not his name?
Valentango is going on this weekend. I cannot go. For many reasons, like, hum, let me think... money and time? Yep those are the usual suspects. There is also not wanting to go away for a tango weekend on the Valentines weekend. Even though it is a commercial pseudo-holiday... Still, I cannot bring my self to leave my partner (who does not dance tango) alone. Adjusting to each other is important in life and in tango. Being perceptive, being sensitive to what your mirror image might feel, think, want is key to a great life and a great tanda together. He does not know it but he has been dancing tango with me for a loooong time:) So Valentango is out of my reach this year. What is in my reach is a happy life, full of understanding, love, compromise... And still I get a lot of tango, because I am lucky to have a partner, who does not dance tango, but who appreciates my passion for it.:)
