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Showing posts from April, 2013

More changes for My Tango Diaries and Leona Training

As you may or may not have noticed, the URL for this blog, and for Leona Training for Dancers, has changed to www.mytangodiaries.com and www.leonatraining.com respectively. It was long overdue, I was just nervous that the transfer would not go well. Mostly it went fine but there have been a couple of hiccups. (And if you happened to be reading this blog while I was going through my experimentation phase of "Let's try this . . . and this . . . and maybe this other thing," with the layout and template - thanks for your patience.) The biggest hiccup is that my extensive, and up-to-date, Tango Blog List got completely blown away. It's not even in the backup, which I don't understand, but there we are.  I need help from you dear readers to try to build it again. If you can, please send me your own tango blog links, and the blogs that you like so that I can compile the blog roll again.  Meanwhile, above there is a tab for my Tango Blogs page, but the page is not as

Where you found me

    “Five minutes are enough to dream a whole life, that is how relative time is.” ― Mario Benedetti. Where did you find me? I laugh a little, my glasses are where you found me. The lights are still low as poor-sighted dancers search for their spectacles. Right now I cannot see a thing. When you found me, what was I doing? What was I thinking, so long ago, 5 minutes ago, 1 year ago, 5 years ago, when you found me? I can't remember anymore. I am remembering everything wrong, everything colored by the music and soft sighs. Your arm is gone, your voice is gone, hazy-visioned and disoriented, I try to return to the place I was. When I think I am there, I realize, blinking slowly, hands reaching toward empty space, it is no longer there. It has moved on without me. That place where you found me. And with it, the woman you found there.

The moon has coated me with dust . . .

This isn't a tango post, but it is a music post - and I think somewhat applicable. It is an almost miraculous thing when a piece of music can speak to us in different ways, in different times in our lives. Sometimes it's a matter of maturity and understanding the depth of a piece over time - but sometimes it's more. The story in the music is so big and yet so personal all at the same. So wherever you are, the song is there, singing to your story. Showing you pieces of your own world you may not have put together yet. Pheobe Snow's "Isn't it a Shame," off of her Second Childhood album, is that kind of song for me, and for my mom. I've written before how my mom and I found much common ground through her music.   When we couldn't find the words to tell each other, Pheobe let us both tell our stories to each other, without having to explain. Everyone reads "Isn't a Shame" differently. To some it is very sad, almost pessimistic.