unicidades

I found my own definition. My own broken definition of love, written a few years ago: Love is not a word. Love is a promise. Love is a shattered glass. Love is sand and salt. A bloody soul. Love is this thing we cannot look for and yet we cannot find either. Love is an attempt. A failed conquest. A blurry image that we just can't avoid or forget. My most recent definition of love: Love is an illusion. People commit when it's convenient for them. People select someone who is a suitable match. They make a decision and stick to it. Love is the absence of a true notion of self. It's surrending to someone else's needs and urges. It's a negotiation. It's compromising and letting other people decide things for you. Solving conflict. Living at peace with yourself and the other person.

The connection between the couple. Good connection, a real embrace. The energy you give. The energy you receive. One of my favorite dancers in Florida makes me feel like I am dreaming in his arms. People have told me they don't see anything special on his dancing, but when he dances with you, you feel like you are the only woman in the room. Nothing else matters. The world can come to an end that he will keep you in his arms.

O Quatrilho You and I dancing You with her, Me with him He was handsome She was pretty You were you And I was me We were there sharing the same space You didn't doubt yourself Don't think you ever have But now you are sure you don't need me any woman can follow you They can be from Russia, America, Bulgaria They can be from Argentina, Romenia They can be old or young Attractive or not so attractive They can follow the *star* They can have you your tango and your bullshit

Trust your gut feeling, make a choice, leave him, stay with him. Stop this. Start that. Be brave. Be honest. Be strong. Don't lie. Don't say too much, talk, communicate. Stay alone. Find someone. Go out on dates. Be serious about people. Smile. Don't sweat the small stuff. That's small. That's not a reason to argue. Be sweet. Be patient. Be accomodating. Fight for your dreams. Compromise. Give more. Be cautious. Don't be physical. Be romantic. Be happy alone. Give it time. Don't take chances. That's a red flag. That's a purple flag. Stop the bus, I want to get off.

Doubting myself big time.

J & K - La Pituca Performance - By David Lee August 05, 2011 I am not sure what real tango is. After things start to acquire different meanings to each and everyone, those things can pretty much be anything. Real tango means *to me* the connection between two people and a tango song. A real embrace. That's what I thought we had. That was my downfall. Last Sunday, I went to a milonga I don't usually go to, hoping not to see you. Or maybe if I am really honest with myself, I'd have to say that I wanted to see you. I wanted to see you dancing with other women and not panic and not cry and not leave the room. After I heard you saying that you will not stop dancing because of any woman in this world (which is a valid statement and wise decision ) and saying that you don't need anybody, that any woman can connect with you and follow you, I came to realize that I was the one adding meaning to us. I was the one staying in an unhealthy relationship because of this twisted n

Here I am again thinking, writing, talking to myself about you. You that I held dearly. The same you that I tried to love without understanding. Do people need to understand to love? I make mental recollections of you in my life. You that caught me by surprise in a Fall evening two years ago. I remember our first phone conversations and my frustration. But I also remember the smiles at the beach as we went out for the first time given that our tango class had been cancelled. We were happy. I question again: what is love? We were engulfed by the idea of love. We spent a lot of time together. What is the point of me thinking about all of this? I don't know. My brain just remembers. It remembers you. Maybe I am just fantasizing that things were better than they really were. I was dying last night. I was dying inside. I saw you dancing well with other people. Our embrace was an illusion. We were a bad dream.

I don't know much about American history, but I wouldn't mind learning more. Last night, I went to see the new Clint Eastwood movie, J. Edgar, and thought it was so boring. I mean, it was too long and honestly, what a miserable life that guy had. I am much less patient with movies lately. I guess I feel like putting my beautiful self (lol) in a chair for 2 hours straight without blinking should be worth my time and my back pain. It wasn't either last night. Also, what an unhappy guy. So sad to see someone sacrifice his entire life and drag others along. He was so selfish. I guess I tend to look at the lives of people from a romantic perspective. Besides the fact that he was obsessed with communism, paranoid, didn't like black people and was a moralist, he was also a very selfish person in that, he (according to the movie) kept his companion on stand-by his entire life. When the guy decided to confront him, he said he shouldn't have been hired in the first place. Wha

David Lee invited me to do another photo shoot on Saturday. Today when I received the photos, I realized how my aging shows on camera. Time is indeed a merciless creature.

Por querer viver um pouco de tudo, sempre tenho essa sensacao medonha de que me falta algo.

Coleciono memorias. E sapatos e joias. Orgasmos. E sabores. Coleciono palavras, boas e mas. Coleciono amores e viagens. Coleciono cancoes e sons e bocas entrelacadas em dedos. Coleciono pedacos de vida. E dores. Coleciono perdas & ganhos. Coleciono imagens. E pessoas. E sentimentos. E vivencias. Coleciono aneis. E vestidos. E tangos. Coleciono paixoes e cheiros. Coleciono coisas mundanas. Coleciono desejos. Sonhos. Saudades. Coleciono pensamentos passageiros e duradouros. Coleciono enderecos e remetentes. Coleciono livros para ter sempre um porto para onde voltar.

Quando foi mesmo que minha vida tornou-se um turbilhao?

Tu te sentaste ao meu lado e me veio como um raio / eletricidade ter-te tao perto / tao quente agarrando-me a mao / depois de um hiato minha mao e tua mao escondidas / no calor lascivio da saudade e entao sem muitas palavras teu beijo me encontrou / sem perguntas tu voltaste teu amor devagar a se aninhar em mim com brancos bracos longos / impulsos de ser - sorvida com pressa, a imensidao de querer - urgencia Desta vez nao houve chuva / foi sonho talvez de apenas uma noite / de enchente