My Tango Diaries

"To touch is to open us to a story we have not yet heard, to an unworked work, a narrative without a beginning and an end. [ . . .] 'Touch signifies 'being in the world' for a finite being." (Derrida 2000, 161). León en el Sol The Lion in the Sun The Lion, a visiting guest of my regular teacher, held me like he'd known me all my life. Every time I danced with him, at a milonga or in classes, or during the lesson, he smelled like "outside". I have the quoted because I don't know how to describe it. The smell of sun on leaves? A bit like that. His embrace was pure warmth. No hesitation. No self-consciousness. No vanity. We just worked, and danced, and worked, and laughed, and danced some more. It was like dancing outside when you're a child that doesn't know to be self-conscious - warm, bright, energizing, playful. I don't think I learned a single new pattern during the lesson or the classes. We focused on embrace and posture, which of

The lesson I am forever learning and re-learning . . . Wait. Old Marquez from Pompeya, to Carlos Gavito: "Have you come to ask me what to wait for? [ . . .] For the music to reach you and not for you to chase the music." Gavito: "I never forgot that advice and I still keep repeating it to myself. Don't run. Let yourself move with the music and not with the step." - "I Wanted to Dance - Carlos Gavito: Life, passion and tango" by Ricardo Plazaola

A wonderful friend, Eduardo Castro, translated a poem I wrote into Spanish. Then I lost the email for ages - but I finally found it. I so love the way it reads in Spanish. Thank you again Eduardo for doing this. I don't want to talk No quiero hablar At the local milongas, En las milongas locales surrounded by good friends, rodeado de buenos amigos it's very common to hear, es muy común escuchar How's work? ¿Cómo te va en el trabajo? How are things going? ¿Cómo van las cosas? What's new with you? ¿Qué hay de nuevo con tigo? I don't mean to be evasive. No pretendo evadir. I really do want to be connected. Realmente quiero estar conectado. To let people know how I am. Dejarle saber a la gente como estoy. I am grateful to be cared for. Agradesco que se preocupan por mí. It's just that the milonga is . . . Es que la milonga es… life/safe/hidden/revealed vida / seguridad / un secret

(Adding a few things that went to Facebook notes, but never made it to the blog. Originally published May 28, 2010. Picture courtesy of Morguefile.com ) You know that friend that you might call if you ever get into a lot of trouble - like "ending up in jail" kind of trouble? The one that you'd call to bail you out and then she'd tell you everything is going to be okay. You just need to get your life together and make good choices (for instance not the one that landed you in jail), and all it takes is the right attitude. And possibly the right man (or woman). Do you have one of those? I have a few. Tango is not that friend. Tango can't bail you out of jail, because tango probably got busted the same time you did. In fact tango was probably driving. Tango isn't going to tell you everything's fine, because it's not, and tango is all about telling you the hard truth. She'll also probably tell you that your ex deserved it. And tango sure as

It's hard to describe what Hugo Diaz does for me. There's something about his music that makes me want to dance barefoot. I want to dance it on bad floors. Floors with texture. With stories. Or in the dirt. That would flat out do it for me. I want to feel the earth under my feet. Or maybe I want the earth to feel me. More than most other musicians, Diaz's music always feels like it comes up through the floor, through my feet, to my heart. It doesn't go through my head - in fact it seems to bypass my brain completely. I can't think about it. I have to move to it. Not a lot, sometimes just a little - if I'm not dancing, sometimes I just sway. But I have to move. And if I'm dancing Diaz with you at a milonga, I'm trusting you with a lot. I would rather sit out the tanda than filter the experience through thoughts of "Am I being too emotional?" or "How do we look?" No dancing for the tables with Diaz playing. (God willing, no dancing for

This is another video from the same lesson. I was going to skip posting it because there were so many places that I anticipated the lead and ended up somewhere other than where Daniel had meant (but of course Daniel then just followed whatever I did and made it work as he always does.) DH was also sitting a bit too close while recording and felt that he cut off too much of us during that song, so he wasn't very happy with it either. But as I described the lesson to other people the subject of this particular song came up quite a bit, so I decided to post it anyway so that folks would know what song I keep prattling on about. Milonga of My Dogs Daniel and I are dancing here to one of my favorite milongas, Canaro's Milonga de Mis Perros . Not only is it a fun one to dance to, but it's about dogs (see Ms Hedgehog's post here ), so of course I love it. It's not played very often at milongas so when I do hear it, I go a little nuts for it. Another reason I like this v

Milonga lesson with Daniela Arcuri and "Latigo" Daniel Ponce 2/13/11) When I watch this video from my typical analytical perspective, I cringe. I regret having Dennis record it. Every time I know I'm being recorded, I get nervous and forget everything I knew 3 minutes before the camera started rolling. This time was no different. I was exhausted, having stayed far too late all week and most especially the night before, and it shows. My balance suffered. My posture was crap. I wasn't able to keep my center/core firm. I was so tired that my knees felt like I was walking through water. I'm off the music in several places. (And of course there's that usual self-critical voice saying, " Christ-on-crutches is that really my butt ???") Now for the part you can't see - the reason this video is up here at all. The reason I don't truly regret Dennis recording it. What you can't see are the tears streaming down my face from the pure bliss of dancing

"What a terrible, beautiful limbo we're in, this intimate and temporary time, glimmering between Before and After." D.G. Fulford Tango has confused and confounded my body. The music can be so bitter, so sad, despairing - yet I often leave the dance floor elated. Dancing, any dancing , makes me laugh . Not light, tinkling (dignified) giggles, but breathless, blushing, belly laughs from the core of my body. As far as I know, I have always had that reaction. In drill team, jazz, ballet - it was always the same. Keeping a serious face was impossible for any length of time. Even when the music was slow and sad, moving my body to music felt ecstatic. And now there is tango. An example: There is a leader that, for some reason I cannot understand, makes me positively gleeful when we dance. I often laugh so much that it's hard for me to follow smoothly, but bless his enormously generous heart, he just keeps going laughing with me and hugging me like the I'm t