La Copla Porteña

I've had iTunes on shuffle, as you do, and some Canaro came on, and I just caught the phrase 'Hoy las chicas son terribles', and wondered what the song was about. It turned out to be kinda cute, so here are the lyrics. I can just see those porteñas swanning around pretending to be Garbo!

Tienen coplas en España,
cuplés tienen los franceses
y yo quiero tener coplas
de carácter nacional.

Hoy las chicas son terribles
cuando se quieren casar,
hoy las chicas son terribles
cuando se quieren casar,
y si pescan candidato
no lo dejan escapar,
y aunque no tengan carnada
el anzuelo hacen tragar,
hoy las chicas son terribles
cuando se quieren casar,
y si pescan candidato
no lo dejan escapar.

Como tengo varias coplas
archivadas en el mate,
voy a ver si otra les canto
no me quiero hacer rogar.

Las muchachas con el cine
hoy están locas de atar,
las muchachas con el cine
hoy están locas de atar,
y pretenden a la "Greta"
como estrella suplantar,
sin pensar las estrellitas
que se pueden estrellar...
Las muchachas con el cine
hoy están locas de atar
y pretenden a la "Greta"
como estrellas suplantar.

The inner game of tango

When we plant a rose seed in the earth, we notice that it is small, but we do not criticize it as 'rootless and stemless'. We treat it as a seed, giving it the water and nourishment required of a seed. When it first shoots up out of the earth, we don't condemn it as immature and underdeveloped; nor do we criticize the buds for not being open when they appear. We stand in wonder at the process taking place and give the plant the care it needs at each stage of its development. The rose is a rose from the time it is a seed to the time it dies. Within it, at all times, it contains its whole potential. It seems to be constantly in the process of change; yet at each state, at each moment, it is perfectly all right as it is.

Similarly, the errors we make can be seen as an important part of the developing process. In its process of developing, our tennis game gains a great deal from errors. Even slumps are part of the process. They are not 'bad' events, but they seem to endure endlessly as long as we call them bad and identify with them.

The Inner Game of Tennis, W. Timothy Gallwey

Stalking Cecilia

I have to post this again. Cecilia and Horatio dancing the same milonga as they did at Practica X, and being just as cute and playful.

Ariadna and Paola

We don't want to leave the girls out, so here are Ariadna Naveira and Paola Motillo. I wish I could show you the show I saw at Villa Malcolm, but sadly that one never made it to YouTube either.

Martin and Mauricio

And now some good same-sex tango.

Back in January I saw Martin and Mauricio perform at a party in Tango Brujo, and I loved them. Their performance was beautiful and intimate and dynamic, and I loved the way they moved. I've seen some guys who take on a strange quality when they follow, all tiptoes and twiddles, as if they're trying to mimic the girls, but Martin and Mauricio both moved like themselves the whole time; they did everything followers do, but with their own quality of movement. It was gorgeous.

At the time I looked to see if anyone had put it on YouTube so I could share it with you, but it wasn't there. But now it seems YouTube is full of them! They're obviously touring Europe at the moment. There are also videos of them at Tango Brujo, but I think it must be a more recent performance.

Anyway, I recommend a good browse for M&M, and to get you started, here's a little milonga.

From the sublime to the ridiculous

Is it me, or is this the most wrong thing ever? Crappy stage tango + sex + catholic martyrdom + fishnets + clowns = ?!?!?!?!?!

Though the expansion of masculine and feminine couples is something I'll always get behind, and I'm always happy to see a bit of guy-on-guy action (What? What do you mean 'objectification'?).

But that aside, just plain wrong.

And that's how it's done

Look! It's Chicho and Eugenia doing Poema! And it's as sweet and lyrical as can be. This is why he's the master. Those people who claim nuevo has no soul really haven't seen much of Chicho.

Wild Geese

After all this time, and all this work, I still tend to fall into worry and thinking. It's still effort for me to just let myself dance. Over the time I've been tangoing I've collected an ever-growing box of tools for dealing with this, for letting myself go, for trusting myself, for accepting myself, but the enemy is cunning, and shifts and adapts to keep up with the latest technology. Perhaps I'll always have to work at this. Perhaps in ten years time I'll still be writing whiny posts about how I can't get my brain to shut up.

So, thanks to Nuit for reminding me again of the importance of letting myself have fun. Tonight I decided to trust myself - my body does this well when I don't harrass it - and I had a good night. And then I came home and came across a poem which I'd forgotten all about but love, and which has much to say on this subject. Here it is: Mary Oliver's Wild Geese.

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.