Cuentos, Cultura

El Gusto del Zapateado

I first saw her in one of the galleries. She was the assistant to the woman performing as “Not Allowed to be Nude” or “Misplaced Madonna.” She was tall and lanky with short hair. She work a skinny black suit and dark sunglasses. She was the butch version of the proper museum docent.

At the reception following la Pocha Nostra’s The New Barbarians, Rio, Mariela and I sipped chilled white wine and munched on veggies and chicken kebabs while waiting for the performers to make their entrance. Soon after, the four main members of La Pocha Nostra — out of makeup and fully dressed — joined the San Francisco art crowd. The organizer of the show, a short dark-haired Latina, thanked the performers. Everyone clapped except for the alt-docent. She stomped hard on the wooden floor.

She had a good stomp. Like the stomps of a jaranero in the middle of a fandango. Or the zapateado of kids in a ballet folklórico troupe dancing to el Canelo or el Gusto.

In that moment, I wanted nothing more than to be 13 years old again, at the height of my short-lived dance career. Continue reading

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Blog/tech

Blog strike

Way back when I first started blogging — when it wasn’t even called blogging — I’d often write about the guy I was dating. We broke up about a year later shortly after he read a piece alluding to my frustration and unhappiness in the relationship.

In my post-breakup sadness, I naively believed we would still be together if I had never recounted the dream on my blog. I felt my words were unfairly used against me to justify the breakup rather than fixing the relationship.

After that, I asked him not to read my blog. I wanted him to know as little about my life as I knew about his. I wanted the break in communication and knowledge about one another’s lives to be equal.

Of course, there was really no way to make sure he wasn’t readying my blog and that troubled me. Still, I didn’t stop writing. I’ve never stopped writing on my blog for more than week* until now.

***

At first, It wasn’t an intentional blog strike. I was just busy. Job1, job2, family, DB, friends, traveling, and the phantom dissertation proposal were all taking up a lot of my time.

But it quickly evolved in to a decision not to blog, to lay low.

That feeling I had many years ago returned. I was still bothered that you could know so much about me — or at least what I chose to reveal — and yet you would still be a mystery. So I didn’t reveal anything, no thought, opinion, story, or update. I wanted to make you do more than just type my URL to find out how I’m doing. You know, call or visit.

And so, I chose to keep my words to myself for a few weeks, until I knew you’d be gone.

There was that time back in October 2006 when I had technical difficulties with my blog and had to switch hosts. I think my blog was hacked.

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Música

Summer highlight #1: Stevie Wonder

Prior to Monday night, I’d seen Stevie Wonder live once. My mom, sister and I were having lunch at Roscoe’s after visiting LACMA when my sister noticed him sitting on the other side of the restaurant. I didn’t get a good luck until he walked out with his entourage. My mouth dropped, I could feel his greatness (or maybe it was the waffles?) as he walked a foot away from my table. As soon as I got the chance, I gushed about my brush with Stevie to all my friends who love his music. They were jealous.

That sense of amazement I felt five years ago made a comeback when Stevie Wonder came out on the Hollywood Bowl stage escorted by his daughter, Aisha and two sons. He proceeded to perform an incredible show. I can’t write a review. If I tried, it would

If I tried to write a review for Stevie Wonder’s show at the Hollywood Bowl on Monday, it would go something like this:

OMG!!! It was so awesome!!! OMG!!! I can die now! In fact, I almost died of sheer euphoria during “Sir Duke”!!! OMG!!! Stevieeeeeeee!!!

I’ll spare you the gushing and swooning in favor of pictures and video after the jump. For an actual review, check the LA Times.

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Deportes, Los Angeles

The Ravine

Golden tickets!

Since April, I’d been avoiding Chavez Ravine. I wasn’t dealing with guilt over the history of the area. I saw Culture Clash’s play five years ago and dealt with it all then. Plus, I grew up without the knowledge of the history. All I knew were the names of my favorite players and all those guys who won Rookie of the Year in the ’90s (Eric Karros, Mike Piazza, Raul Mondesi, Hideo Nomo and Todd Hollandsworth).

My avoidance wasn’t even about the hassle of getting to/in/and out of the place. The happiness I feel in the stadium cancels out the frustration of getting in.

No, I was staying away because I didn’t like owner Frank McCourt’s business model of increasing admission and parking prices as well as creating more luxury seating. Last year, I only went when someone else was trying to pass off some tickets. Yeah, I can be coda…

But my boycott was half-assed, like a lot of other things I do. If a friend offered to buy tickets or needed to pass off some tickets, I’d gladly take them.

I was offered tickets last week for fantastic seats for the first game of the Freeway Series against the Anaheim Angels (eff that LA Angels of Anaheim crap).

Photos after the jump.

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Amigos

On being nice

Sean: so what did you tell him?
Me: well, I told him, “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea and think I still like you. ‘Cause I don’t.”
Sean: ouch!
Me: what?
Sean: that’s mean!
Me: but it’s true.
Sean: still, no one wants to hear that, even if he doesn’t like you anymore either.
Me: oh, I didn’t realize that.
Sean: you need to be nicer.
Me: I guess.

***

Sean: so how was Texas?
Me: quite fun! I visited family in Dallas, went to a conference and spent time with friends in Austin and then visited more family in Houston. I went to a rodeo!
Sean: fun.
Me: yeah, I wish I could’ve spent more time in Austin. But you know what I noticed?
Sean: what?
Me: there weren’t too many attractive guys there. At least guys I found attractive. I told that to my friend, John, while we were in a club.
Sean: you said that to him?
Me: yeah, and he pretended to be all hurt.
Sean: Cindy, have you ever heard the phrase, “present company excluded”?
Me: yeah.
Sean: that’s when you use it!
Me: I know, I was gonna say that, but I just forgot.
Sean: you need to be nicer.
Me: okay.

***

Later that evening we watched The Big Bang Theory a show about physics graduate students. The more sociable of the two roommates scolds the other on being nice and not bluntly telling their cute neighbor that she can’t sing.

Sean turns to me and says, “Cindy, that’s you. And I’m the roommate trying to teach him how to behave.”

“Ouch.”

***

Happy 31st birthday, Sean!

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