unicidades

Here I am at the ref. desk stuffing my face with Hershey kisses. I think I had six of them. The plain ones. I prefer the ones with nuts, so you can munch on some texture there, but ok. I got away with it. So, the calendar tells me the year's ending. People have also made it clear. People have been asking me if I am going to go to the special New Year's Eve. milonga and I've been saying no. One of the places charges $65 for the special night, another one charges $55. I've been told it's a beautiful party, but still I find it very expensive. A regular milonga costs $10 to $15 depending on where you go. I know they'll have a special dinner on the 31st, but I don't care for that. I care for the dancing. Honestly, I'd rather not be in a crowded milonga where everybody is going to be eating and drinking like crazy and the dancing is going to be relegated to a second plan. Also, I like being in a cozy environment to wait for the new year. Last year I went t

Happy New Year.

I read because I want to educate myself. I wonder because that shows me some new ways. I write because I want to document my existence. Today is a weird day. I had such a nice 3 day holiday weekend and yet today I feel a prisoner of my own choices. My choices in general. Happiness is so, so fleeting. G-d has a very weird sense of humour. Time unfolds and every day is like a new odyssey. I started writing my new year's resolutions list. I have 10 items written down. I have to remember to write my will too. When I was at the hospital a few weeks ago, I wasn't afraid of dying per se. I think I was afraid of leaving unfinished business behind me. I was also afraid that my last wishes would die with me. Nostalgia. How could it be that perfection could be a curse? Expectations do tend to leave a bitter taste in people's mouths. On Wednesday morning I am going to go see her. Why? I don't know. Sometimes I think she has more problems than I do and that's only if I am kind e

Tenho a mesa posta de amor.

After many years, I am looking forward to tonight. Not that I like the crazy shopping and the crazy people. But I like the idea of staying home and celebrating. Obviously, I celebrate for the wrong reasons. I guess I am not a good Catholic and I honestly don't care. Merry Christmas to all.

I need to buy flowers. The house isn't clean yet. I have so much cooking to do. What stresses me out is not having all the ingredients yet. This dinner party I have to go to also stresses me out. What am I going to talk about with people who are complete strangers? At least the restaurant is nice. I haven't been eating out lately. The medication is strong and I feel tired all the time. I am tired, but happy. I need to take new photos. Dancing tango with my Comme il Faut is a cosmic experience. People might say I am crazy and I don't know shit about Argentine tango dancing, but I don't care. Am I going to write a New Year's resolutions list? Pomegranate is probably one of my favorite fruits. I am reading Tolstoy and a book on whole foods based on Eastern teachings, in particular Chinese. Both amazing readings. My dad e-mailed me. I miss Christmas in Brazil. I think I am wearing my new Chinese inspired white and red dress tomorrow night. I learned something new ab

I hate parents who mistreat children.

It's time again to look back and write about it.

It's shining.

I am falling asleep at the reference desk and I have four more hours to go. The good news is I will take a break at 2pm.

Hoy Bajofondo Leyó otra vez , y camino bajo esa puta lluvia que no deja de golpear y la sintió … que va a sentir mientras las lagrimas brotaban a granel leyó otra vez , se sorprendió buscando auxilio un remedio compasión y en un café se refugio y afuera el mundo continuaba sin razón You don't write I can't hear you What am I doing?? The lake looks like a mirror. Birdie wasn't here for breakfast The sun invades my bedroom The windows are open I smell the beginning of a fresh morning It rained, I showered Luminous ludic languid lackadaisical Dance I miss somehow that attempt to belong perhaps Can you tell? I walk towards you my imagination playing tricks on me You The night begins May G-d allow me to be blessed in this naive type of happiness This subtle state in which art, movement, color, the freshness of all of you permeates my entire being I want to drench in you As intense as this is: let me be the equivalent to your other half. Im

Image: Almeida Junior, O Descanso do Modelo. Longe das estradas tortuosas de um amor insano. Descanso sobre teu corpo como se te conhecesse. Vermelha espera e incerteza. Vermelha incerteza em uma espera longa. Sento-me. Reclino-me. Faz tempo. Tento a calma de ser. Avolumam-se os anos. Derretem-se as horas. Ampulheta revestida de cores de abril. Ando no meio fio, embriagada de ti e vitrais de Chagall. Sento-me e canto. Para ver se quando chegue a aurora toda essa de mim que sente-se alma possa acalmar-se. Esfriam em mim latitudes de ti. Giram em mim teus sonhos. Orbitam em ti o que quero da vida. Descanso. Luzes. Umidade. Tomo um café, como se nessa atmosfera habitassem felicidades tangíveis, verdades certeiras, o grito de misericórdia, a paz decisiva. Sento e espero. A face recostada numa parede imaginária, o toque por vir.

"Good cooking does not depend on whether the dish is large or small, expensive or economical. If one has the art, then a piece of celery or salted cabbage can be made into a marvelous delicacy; whereas if one has not the art, all the greatest delicacies and rarities of land, sea or sky are of no avail. - Yuan Mei. 18 th Century Chinese Poet in: The Flavor Bible by Karen Page and Andrew Dornenburg .

Self-portrait late at night. I look at you softly. My yellow- ish eyes on fire, on you. I kiss your face just to find your smile. Gently -- give me your hands -- I want them to touch every single spot in my soul, take this fever away. Rescue me from the icy cold night. I need to see and feel you because if this is a dream, I want it to be real. I travel long distances and wait. Could this be really happening? I open a book to distract myself from you. Reading you is a mystery. I don't ask questions because I don't want to be hurt again. My silence is a sign. Your lips: some type of prayer I want to - more than say it - understand. It took me only one second to look at you and now all I have is this image stuck in my head. I hear voices too. I see you singing and your entire body creates worlds of contentment. You embrace me with your eyes, your left hand closely holding my right hand and taking it to your chest. Among other things, there's this crazy notion, I feel safe w

When enough is enough?!

Quase nunca me acostumo a que meu corpo mude. Quase nunca. Muda meu corpo. Mas agora me sinto inchada. E com dor. E com medo de meu corpo.

Pois saudade aguda que vem. Se fixa n'alma. Me escorre por dentro. Me latejam os olhos que ardem de saudade. Saudade aguda como que estivesse febril. Saudade de casa, saudade de sentir saudade. Saudade de sons. Saudade dos cheiros das ruas, das pessoas sem rumo. De um horizonte. Saudade qualquer. Saudade especial. Saudade remota. Saudade ausente. Saudade dos carros e dos animais. Saudade dos passos ligeiros, dos encantamentos duradouros. Do anil onipresente. Saudade das cartas, dos pacotes, dos bolos, das tardes mornas e das noites quentes. Saudade de ver-te. Ter-te embalado em mim. Saudade de teus olhos faceiros e pequenos. Saudade. Saudade para mim se trata do desejo de cruzar uma ponte que deixou de existir, mas que insiste em estar dentro d'alma. Image: Almeida Júnior - Saudade, 1899.

Does everything really happen for a reason?

Georgia O'Keeffe, Blue Flower, 1918. Retira de mim o frio da alma, cala esse medo. essas dores. respira verde e em mim deposita sementes de alegria para nascer talvez felicidade onde hoje existe o escuro do passado perverso. Me toca com a ponta dos teus dedos para que talvez o azul-cinzento desta tarde se consuma num espamo. Me toca com tua língua, leve e ligeira. Me levanta e me recosta em teu corpo. Onde, como se estivesse em uma concha a qual pertenci, me encolho para ser tua. Me tira do meio desta sala onde o vermelho é agudo e pespontado de incertezas maduras. Me puxa para o outro lado que sem lamentar vou estar em ti. Tempo, tempo, oh tempo injusto. Quantas amarguras antes de provar de ti. Sabes a mar. Mas tens o cerne cor de céu. Resgata-me. Responde-me. Revive. Se escrever tornou-sr obsoleto e as mazelas imensas um desatino, em teus braços sinto a dimensão de vida nova. De estrada tanta. Me és cores e a essência pura e digna. Me tens. O deserto é mar. Te brindo com meus a

Walking Somemorningsare meant to be ours: fresh and cool wintery mornings. Brown leaves falling from the sky, heart shaped leaves floating around to embrace and comfort us. We walk under fragile spider webs that shine when faced with mild rays of sun. Their strength is so powerful; I even feel it with my eyes. We walk miles and miles in this green, brown, sometimes purplish natural walkway: Your hand holding mine. You talk to me. You smile with your face. You hold me with your kisses. We dance and our souls begin to expand and find each other. You see through. I hear noises around. The sky cries. We laugh and run. I wonder: have I ever felt this? Have you? I pivot and my tiny body replies. I celebrate our uniqueness. Tell me now: how many steps have we walked until the day we’d meet at this corner of Earth? There’s a door that opened invites me to love you. I think about my blue house. I see the scars. I think about all the times I’ve looked for you. I felt no air in my lungs, I

I am the owner of two beautiful pairs of Comme il Faut. They're light, flexible, beautiful, and stylish. I have no words to describe the difference between Comme il Faut shoes and all the other shoes I have used to dance tango.

My new shoes from Argentina arrived. I can't wait to try them on.

Here we go again, my dear K. I am sending you another song. This time it's a pop song that, for some reason, I felt like listening to. I didn't listen to it just yet as I didn't have a chance. I was rushing to get everything ready. There was a certain disquietness in my soul (and I think this is a new word I just coined) within me this morning. Somehow that good energy that flows between us wasn't there and I found myself missing it so much. It felt like something inside of me was shrinking at the speed of light. I know you're busy. I know you're in love with me already. I know I am falling for you as well, but I am fighting against it. I am fighting exactly the same way I fight against getting wet in the rain. I fight it as I fight against numbness and boredom. I fight it as I fight against ignorance, intolerance, ugliness. Because somehow I have chosen my battles and they're small and sometimes selfish . I fight mental battles, my dear K. I fight it as I

When you decide not to go out with anyone, everybody decides to ask you out. I mean everybody. Even the guy who saw you in pain for more than twenty minutes without any makeup, wearing the hospital's clothes. Even the guy who has seen you for the past four years and has never even said hello. Then you ask him why he's asking you out now and he goes: you always looked like you were mad. Maybe I should were my "mad mask" again.

Milonga La Bordeaux Definitions of Milonga and Bordeaux . -Would you dance with me? He hesitantly asked. -Yes. She gladly replied. There were nights in which she couldn't sleep and the ceiling was heavy and blurry. Her body ached and her mind floated around the room. There were cold nights in which she dived in nice music and solitude. There were nights in milongas and silent nights. There were nights of tears and questions and blame and and and and. There was a forest nearby, but she rarely dared to go in. Traveling can be such a daunting task when you are lost already. There was one night that she danced and danced, not alone. His arms were gentle, his hands soft and dreamy. She was happy for she had found a place to be. They were discovering what he would call the Milonga La Bordeaux. The lights were dimmed and they had candles on the table. A closed book on tango rested on one side. She smiled. She avoided his eyes because that was a bridge to the land of the hearts. Their