Highlights

-
It's winter again. The weekend was blue, pale, cold, windy. There was silence in the house and the smell of sweet cherries. I followed my heart. I wanted to cry because of how really violent reality can be. One second you're doing fine and then the next second you see something grotesque that shocks you and those who are around you.
I didn't do everything I had planned for Friday. I went to a beauty school to have my hair and face done. It was nice and I'd definitely would go there again. The story with the lady who helped me is a whole new post that I don't know if I should write. Then I had time to get my new book in the mail and read a few pages of it. I am liking it, but I didn't like the one page about lying. 
Later that day I headed to a my new psychologist. It was nice talking to her. Opening up about the things I am experiencing is always something revealing. Then I went shopping and came home to get ready for the milonga. I got there on time, which is something that I like doing. The class was ok. Not having a dance partner can be challenging sometimes. I also feel awkward about sticking to one person in one class or rotating. I wish there was some kind of etiquette. Just before the class, I got a precious gift (I want to write about the gift separately). 
Then the milonga was just so, so. My feet were killing me. I had to work on Saturday. A famous female dancer showed up and that was quite interesting. I didn't see her dancing. Then later I saw the photos someone took of her and those were very nice, especially the one of the shoes.
I don't think I am going to be attending that milonga any time soon. anymore. I learned a lesson when I left. I still can remember the scene and hear the guy screaming at us. I am deeply sorry for what has happened. There isn't much I can do now, but perhaps I can send out my prayers to that person so that he doesn't cause any harm to anybody else.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

To Someone

-
Image
The architecture of the city is plural and restless. Your voice comes and goes. The sky was pale blue today. White here and there. Clouds. Whispers.  Our dialog is more vivid now. I still see how intense your eyes are. You come and go from me. But I know you never really leave. At least, that is the illusion that keeps me - going? I see patterns. They make sense. Like you made sense a while ago. I can't reason with Love, can I? Love, this palpable, irrational measurement of attachment and desire.  I don't know if you are the same anymore. The same I knew.  Did I ever know you? It doesn't matter because you fit like a symptom fits a disease. You fit my fantasy. My fantasy was so concrete and so tangible. I play us in my head. If I had. If you had. But history doesn't rewrite itself.  I can't walk down the street to try and find you.   Unchanged sea. Under the same sheltering sky. I love you.
Read more

Writing

-
Unresolved pain. Nostalgia. Fire. Vivid dreams at night. Immense love.  I read the other day something an old friend once told me. Go back to what you were good at when you were a child. That's where your natural talent is. I go back, and so many things come up. So many interests. Infinite curiosity. I loved words when I was a child. But I also loved animals and nature. I also loved music and poetry. The beach made me go without sleep. I also loved to dance. I remember attracting people's comments while dancing at parties. Not because I was good but because I did my own thing.  I also liked cooking and baking from an early age. Books were also my private world.  But who am I now, forty years later?  I listen to Riccardo Cocciante, and my heart fills with raw emotion. How can someone be so good and write the most beautiful songs? I need to understand Italian better, but what I know and feel with his songs is beyond anything material.  The power of art has to move...
Read more

Letting you go

-
Sunday Afternoon by Rachael Yamagata. I know it's the right thing to do, but the right thing to do hurts like crazy. I see your presence in my apartment. I see ghosts of you. Messages that I don't want to read. It hit me hard this time. Tuesday morning, I am sitting by the window. It rains. I feel guilty and the wind blows slowly drops of blood. Maybe that's a sign. Someone said: if you like him that much, fight for him. I fought for you. I had you in my hands. I gave you so many opportunities. I gave you so much more than you deserved. It's getting cold. You slapped my face. I cried in your arms. I cried myself to sleep. I couldn't talk anymore. My projects are on hold. I can barely work. I write and I write and the pain doesn't go away.
Read more