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April (Snow) Showers & Pink Jesuscorns
In which Yours Truly visits the Deep Ellum Arts Festival, eats Funnel Cake, dances with (the same and a different) Valerie, and gets caught out in the snow.
That's right.
The SNOW.
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Yes, yes . . . I know: long time, no post. I guess that's just how it goes sometimes. Probably it's the paint fumes from all the recent PseudoLatino World HQ renovations diminishing my capacity for rational thought and its subsequent translation into pertinent, offensive, divisive, insightful, or otherwise entertaining verbiage that has kept me silent for so long.
Who knows.
In any case, today was a wonderful day for me to break my silence, no matter how briefly. After what seemed most certainly to be the early onset of summer less than a week ago (i.e. last weekend I was jumping out of airplanes in 81 degree heat . . . on a drop dead gorgeous sunday) this weekend has thus far been marked by temperatures ranging from the low 30s to the upper 40s. As I walked with the Valerina yesterday evening and early this morning amongst the fun-yet-generally-unremarkable fare presented at the 2007 Deep Ellum Arts Festival (D.E.A.F), we were actually marching through a scarcely noticable, though undeniable, swirling of earthbound snowflakes. In combination with the smell of the funnel cakes (of which Lady Vee was most enamored), the wintry weather put me directly in mind of my years in Germany--each of which was crowned near that most infamous of solstices with an outdoor festival/market called the Weihnachtsmarkt (for those who were born without a keen sense of the obvious: the Xmas Market).
Of course there was no smell of Glühwein, and instead of "O Du Fröhliche" we were enduring a shitty christian-reject Reggae band with this tubby female genetic experiment in homeliness "lead singer" spouting off some predictable feel good jesus chrispy platitudes in between their otherwise not-so-sucky songs. Hell, until I realized how inbredly moronic the lyrics were (and, more to the point, while we were waiting on Hers Truly's funnel cake to be prepared) I was even dancing a little middle-of-the-street-while-people-looked-at-us-funny Tango with the Valerina.
So . . . all this to say that if I closed my eyes and used my imagination, I could place myself smack-dab in the middle of the Weihnachtsmarkt in dear old Cologne (Alte Markt or Neumarkt, take your pick).
This made me smile. As did the dancing and the funnel cake. And all the happy dogs out for walks, or on display for adoption, dogs being, as they most clearly are, the greatest beings in the multiverse. Their greatness is so rock solid that I, for instance, personally use easter to celebrate the resurrection of the Most Holy Dog, rather than the usual Guest of Honor. I find Dog to be a good deal more merciful, loyal, kind, and loving than his palindromic bookend . . . and a good deal less imaginary (a major bonus, if you ask me; and even if you don't ask me).
Ok . . . good enough. Right? A nice, wintry day wandering through a nice, quirky arts festival in my very own nice, quirky neighborhood with a beautiful, quirky woman of impeccable taste in men.
Uhhhhh . . . .
Yeah. Anyhow. There's a bit more.
I followed this little morning treasure up with a delicious, overwhelmingly filling lunch at Fadi's (Hummus, Tabouli, Pita bread, etc), a leisurely nap, several hours of paint-related activities (more shelves, if you really must know), and, to cap off the whole day, the Entre Amigos milonga, out in Bum-fucked Egypt aka Mid-Cities.
To keep this short and sweet: I danced my little boo-tay off. I danced the better part of 3.5 hours straight, including a nice dance with visiting instructrix Valeria Cortes. Your Favorite Tango Leper did a pretty good job of representing his fellow Dallasites, if He does say so Himself. (Note to our beloved Ginger: Valeria was REALLY good, but you? You are BETTER, you big dork. Even though . . . well . . . even though you do occasionally wear those really goofy-looking pants to class. We forgive you. Completely. Even the Pope told me you have been absolved of all pant-related sin. He told me this at the end of his life, for it was the last thing he approved before I killed him and fed him to Rosie O'Donnell. You'll perhaps be interested to know that she ate him in a mere 27 bites while singing the old torchsong "Trump is a Bad Bad Man" to a bar full of balding dwarf skydivers--friends of mine, one and all).
And that, my friends, is pretty much that: I'm tired. I'm content. I'm ready for bed.
But . . .
before I go . . .
for those of you still inclined towards the banal & childish superstitions and unimaginative anthropomorphisations of our gullible and uninformed ancestors (you know, those oh-so-wise, colossal spooge-plops of human wisdom and knowledge who thought the world was flat and that mental illness was "demon possession"):
Happy Easter!
Happy Passover!
Happy Pink Unicorn Lays Golden Spring Solstice Turd Day!
Whatever your poison, may you have an enjoyable and relaxing day.
Sincerely Yours,
---the PL
Posted by earwicker at 11:59 PM | Comments (0)
Phase The First - Complete (kinda)
Yet another day of the Deep Ellum Arts Festival has come and gone. Great fun, despite the weather. More importantly, though, Yours Truly has made amazing strides in the ongoing saga of His Loftitude, which is to say that finally--after about a month of building, installing, painting, painting, painting, cleaning, painting, cogitating, painting, and a little more painting--Phase One of the redesign of PseudoLatino World HQ is more or less complete!
Yes! It's true!
A small amount of assembly remains, and there are a few books and papers to file away, but all painting (which is far and away the most laborious and time-consuming category of design-related activities) is now complete.
Can I get an AMEN?!?!?
WoooHOOOOO!
I now have time to sit back, breathe in the rarefied air of my Oh So FUCKING COOL Loft, and make some sketches for Phase The Second.
Yes. You CAN touch me.
But just the hem of my garments.
And you may also kiss the Holy Relic (the RING, smart ass, the RING).
In any case, I remain,
Quite Faithfully,
Your,
---PseudoLatino
Posted by earwicker at 11:59 PM
Lhasa
Amigos . . . please allow Your Humble and Infallible Purveyor of Undeniable Truth in All Things Musical to recommend for your obedient and steadfast enjoyment a most wonderful vocal and musical talent far too eigenartig for the Starbucks milieu unto which she has been regrettably relegated (ok . . . so her bank account is likely to be rather happy about Starbucks' attentiveness . . . but, hopefully, you get the point). Her name is . . .
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. . . Lhasa de Sela.
To the best of my (admittedly overwhelming) knowledge, she has two, and only two, CDs available: La Llorona and The Living Road. The first I know like the back of my hand--and what with the VERY hairy palms I've developed over the years in that sinful onanistic frenzy otherwise known as my life, I know the back of my hands REALLY REALLY well. Verily, each of you should rush to your local B&N, Borders, or favorite browser and purchase said CD immediately. Since no one actually reads this blog these days except my meth dealer, local tangueros, and al sharpton (the latter probably looking for some kinda "nappy-headed" comments, so he can unveil me for the racist I am and experience a little more of that self-righteous indignation he eats each morning for breakfas--eaten post-coitally after he and his lover, one Mr. "R. U. Not Phat" Limbaugh, have finished their morning bout of sodomy and oxycontin), I should probably point out forcefully that most of the disk is excellent for dancing. Other things, too . . . .
Just ask the irRelevant Al Sharptongue (hey! . . . doesn't that guy play basketball for Rutgers? No? He's the mascot??)
The second I have just purchased on this very evening and so far, equally good. Perhaps not so uniformly danceable from beginning to end, but hey . . . you can't win 'em all. The second also distinguishes itself from the first in being multilingual (calm down Jeramy . . . I said "multi" . . . but you did get the "lingual" part right; I'm sure your G.E.D. instructor would be soooooo proud. Clever boy!), with songs in Spanish, English, and French (the english lieder being typically less evocative than the others).
Actually, I'm listening to the CD as I impart to you all the Wisdom of the Ages, and it is indeed a wonderful, beautiful, compelling record . . . so don't screw this up, folks: get off your asses and go buy the damn thing already. It's time to start rewarding LIVING people for their musical achievements, dontcha think? I mean, really, like Tanturi gives a ratbastardo's ass whether or not you buy his godawful recordings (yeah, yeah, I know Connie . . . you're moved by these godawful recordings . . . what can I say . . . lots of folks were moved by Jimmy Swaggart, too . . . so . . . here's an idea . . . I'll get Jimmy to pray for the evolution of your musical tastebuds. A perfect combination, that. I anticipate you'll be disappointed by the results, but . . . at least you'll be in appropriate company? Yes. Indeed).
Just remember:
Long Live Lhasa
Yours,
---the PseudoLatino
Posted by earwicker at 11:59 PM
4 hours in 263 jumps. And counting . . .
A quick update for those of you with them there inquirin' minds I soooooooo love to love: Today, on jump number 263--my last of the day on a day full of excellent jumps--I reached a cumulative total of 4 hours of freefall. It was a 5-way tracking dive, with three of the guys who were on the airplane with me when I did my very very very first skydive ever, just over a year ago. I'm way too tired to try to say anything clever or insightful at the moment, but I can tell you that I've come a long way, that I'm flying with skill and confidence, that I'm becoming far more consistent, and that I'm flying my canopy like a freakin' MANIAC (in a good way, not a reckless, deathwish-possessing way).
Please, friends: come jump with me. Soon.
You really have no idea what you're missing.
---the pseudoLatino
Posted by earwicker at 11:59 PM
Happy Antiquity, y'old . . . Fart
*insert high-pitched farting noise here, but don't ask why*
At the profoundly ripe old age of Three Zero, Your Intrepid Spazmoid's partner in various sundry and unspeakable criminal activities has finally come unglued. The Valerina was last sighted--today, on her Day of Days--running naked through Highland Park, and screaming something which has been variously reported as "I am the risen Lord," "Imus decisions? Horrid," "Why my collision? A Ford," or--and this is my favorite for the usual cliche, trite, and quasi-pornographic voyeuristic reasons--"Take me in prison, you Whore!"
I guess maybe it was simply the knowledge that she is no longer a beautiful twenty-something, and is instead a beautiful ELDER that made her snap. Or perhaps the idea that she probably only has about 50 years of Tango dancing left in her quickly ailing, feeble, old-person's body. Or perhaps it's just because she couldn't get the night off from work and is therefore likely to spend portions of her celebratory evening addressing Code Browns and spurting Arterial bloodshowers. Unfortunately, we'll never know . . . because she has finally succumbed to early-onset Alzheimer's and will, come this time tomorrow, probably not even remember WHY she was running around Highland Park naked.
Whatever the case may be, and even though she'll never consciously perceive this, my very public wishing of wellness and notable conveyance of affection due to her chronic senility, fading memory, etcetera, Yours Truly would like to acknowledge to one and all his fondness for The Valerina--tanguera extra-ordinairuh, friend of friends, woman amongst women, and owner of a 1977 chasis with a world-famous, classic . . . ummm . . . "rear suspension." (Can I get an "AMEN!," Fray?)
May she continue to rock for many more decades, and may she even have the good fortune to remember a couple of them before
her mind
goes
com
plete
ly.
Much love to you, Mizz B!
Your devoted, living, and breathing Fountain of Youth,
---the PseudoLatino
Posted by earwicker at 11:59 PM