L’air du tango
The above is a Korean hair salon on 32nd Street, here in New York City. In Korean, it means: “Shall we cut?” As in, “Shall we dance?”
However, I have recently realized that, in Spanish, it means something else, entirely.
The revelations that descend upon you while walking the streets of Manhattan eating icecream, are simply amazing.
Children, you will have to forgive the enigmatic post prior.
What I like about blogging, is that I can write for many different kinds of readers. Friends and family… and penpals I have never actually met… and strangers… But most importantly, myself. Sometimes, I feel as if a great weight has been lifted off of me, just by putting something out there so intimate to my personal life, without explanation, without elaboration, understood only by myself and a very few people out there, for instance, my brother, who has known me most of my natural life, or perhaps, my mother, if she knew how to use a computer. And the fact that something was put out there makes me feel as if “it” has been exorcised. The nightmare. The nostalgia. The grump…
It is Spring, and I am cleaning out the swampy cobwebs.
I saw a major movie star make an impromptu appearance at my favorite milonga this past month. But true to New Yorker politesse, I will refrain from going ga-ga on my blog, and keep the name secret. And no, it wasn’t lame-o-Bullock…
I may have imagined it, but I thought I saw his face transformed as he watched the dancefloor, intently, his heart floating to Never Never Land, Chagall-style… Or it may have been the fairylights reflected in his eyes? I hear that he’s been taking private tango lessons. I wonder what sort of tanguero he would make?
We left him alone wth the music, and let him soak it all in. If he ever did become available on the dancefloor, there will be no fear of him getting ripped apart by ardent fans… It’ll take more than being a mere movie star for us saucy tangueras to be impressed by a man in the milongas. :-D
That’s what I love about being inside a milonga. I enter a completely different realm, away from MTV, away from Extreme Makeover Home Edition, away from bad electronically spliced R&B, away from Paris Hilton, Fashion Week, Michael Jackson’s nose, Takeshi Murakami LV bags. The grotesque glamour and plastic glitz of this city is silenced, painted over, made invisible, blotted out as non-entities.
The world is changed, and I can breathe again.
Music.
Floor.
Man.
Woman.
Tango.
It’s almost ridiculously child-like, don’t you think?
If the real world is like Tom Clancy’s Ghost Recon Advanced Warfighter 2, then the world of the milonga is like Lego…
He was at LUNA on Monday. He danced with his wife, Lorena, and Mariela. Lucky him. He is still a beginner.
“the world of the milonga is like Lego…”
It did seem that way to begin with. A step here a sequence there, some music palying in the backgorund.
Then it all started to melt and became play-doh where everything starts to become fused together and the colours intermix and you’re never quite sure what is the leader, the follower or the music.
hola nuit…buenos dias…
I’m glad you can breathe again. I knew what you meant with your prior post, even though I didn’t know.
Also, can I use your words for a t-shirt?
Music.
Floor.
Woman.
Man.
Tango.
Classic.
Your post is a nice snapshot of your feeling : “Le Vert Paradis Des Amours Enfantines” somme toute.
Sounds strange for me, I think I never had that cristal clear feeling that tango was as simple as you describes. I may feel it simple sometimes but cannot think it simple.
Anyway I wonder what a lego looks like wit 9 cm heels ;-)
y’know?
I noticed the same thing about said movie star. He had this happy, almost shy expression as he watched the floor. I thought it was adorable. Who hasn’t had that awestruck look when we first saw tango and thought, “Yeeeees, I know in my heart that this is what I want to do.”
Thank you for your lovely description of what a milonga should be, but I feel that even milongas can have their share of grotesque beauty. Remember the Elvis Bear? ;) Still, to steal a verse, “With all its sham and drudgery, it’s still a beautiful world.” Amid the backbiting, egos, and drama, it’s still possible to find transcendent beauty and heartbreaking simplicity in the dance.
This is what keeps me coming.
milonga chica! a few friends spotted him at la nacional too, recently. it seems he’s doing the whole nyc curcuit… i hope he stays!
david, what a lovely comment… i am starting to feel the same way these days, like i am being wrapped around in laffy-taffy.
patadura, i think i found the book on amazon.fr — is it by gueyraud? should i order it? le titre est vraiment belle…
azabache, actually, i know exactly what you mean, about the drama, and petty quarrels. i’ve been witness, and confidante, to some horrendous stupidity, and it makes me shy of getting too involved in the community… however, i try to keep focused on the dance, and warm, real human relations. if i get sidetracked by the grotesque, i know i will have you to remind me of all the beauty again.
dearest alex: i knew you would understand. ;-)
I don’t know the Gueyraud’s book, it is a quotation of the poem Moesta et Errabunda (Triste et Vagabonde) des Fleurs du mal de Charles Baudelaire.
You can get the Baudelaire book for sure. If you’re found of French Poetry I recommand also the “Anthologie De La Poesie Francaise” by Georges Pompidou (it’s on of the french President), I used to offer it to foreign friend so they could discover our poetry.