Flamenco - Tango - Milonga

Weird night tonight -- probably anticipating weird weekend of hand class/enneagram class and full moon. I don't know why everyone's making such a big deal about this harvest moon -- people around me are just a bit TOO AWARE. Weird weird.

This one's for you, Allie -- you probably hate J.Lo, but if you can stand to get 2/3s through the Ain't It Funny video -- take a look at the cajon (box drum) player. That's the friend I was flirtin' with in my Yo Estoy Loca post. Fun, no?

This brings me to tango...and the fab movie The Tango Lesson, a film by Sally Potter. I loved this movie, and one day will learn this dance. But most of all I want to be like Sally Potter, FILMMAKER-STORYTELLER-PERFORMER. Better do it before I croak.

And I remember lending the video to Ilia when he was working on his tango, Seisouso. I know that skate better through the video camera taping him than I do watching it live....

Lastly, I remember I'm in the middle of finishing my own milonga. Can't wait til it's finished... can't wait to share it.

(First things first, Missy.)

Better Luck Tomorrow

You were right, Winston. I didn't regret this one bit.

I finally saw the movie this weekend in the middle of the night on cable at L's house because I had gone stir-crazy at during my self-imposed hibernation. (When am I going to learn I'm not a frickin' introvert and I'm one of those people who need people? ARGH. 'Just keep taking your Lexapro, darlin' Madley, and all will be well and not as wanna-jump-out-of-your-skin bad when Catheryn rescued you this morning.')

This movie. Better Luck Tomorrow. Loved it. Visually, narratively, and of course, that it was set in upper middle class suburban straight-A Asian kids who go criminally wrong inspite of themselves. LOVED IT. Have no words...am inspired by seeing faces like mine on screen, beyond tokenism. Kudos to director, Justin Lin. And I loved this shot where "Han" presents a few bill bribe to a liquor store clerk for along with the fake ID of a black man as he's carded. I don't know why, but that made me howl and the guy seem like a cowboy/god/testosterone vehicle. Wow.

And have found a new website and blog by the lead, Parry Shen. After being asked by so many young Asian Americans "how to get in the business," he chronicles his quite legit acting career in Hollywood for them, paving the way. Maybe someday Adrian Brody will be sneaking a kiss with an Asian artist at the Oscars because Parry's willing to be so forthright, funny and honest. Thanks for that, Parry.

And guess what? Donny Osmond is at the end of Parry's demo reel, I kid you not! I'm a Happy Gel.

The Sweetest Sounds

I'm a mush-pot (no big news) -- and it's showing up in my dreams... today's nap produced another sweat-inducing, probably peri-menopausal wedding or boyfriend dream... and lately they've been looking like Paolo Montalban.

In case you didn't know, he played The Prince in the 1997 Cinderella TV version with Brandy and Whitney Houston. He's a beautiful man, he's got a gorgeous voice and shockingly enough... he's Filipino. {Why is that? Because Filipino men have an incredible hoop to jump through in my eyes... but hey, that's another post.}



THE SWEETEST SOUNDS
The sweetest sounds I'll ever hear
Are still inside my head
The kindest words I'll ever know, are waiting to be said
The most entrancing sight of all, is yet for me to see
And the dearest love in all the world
Is waiting somewhere for me
Is waiting somewhere, somewhere for me
(Rodgers and Hammerstein)

Ah,what a dreamer I am... and I like it that way. (Wow, I'm feeling a bit defensive about this all right now! But I plow on -- I at least write in this blog so I remember where/what I was feeling -- it's MY blog, isn't it? -- or that I even WAS feeling...)

Tonight I had the urge to finally pull out my Cinderella video and watch and sing... and I swear, I felt my heart open up... AHA! I finally know the key to my well of hopes and dreams... MUSICALS. Amazingly enough, it's only in a musical that people/characters are so overwhelmed with feeling that mere words will not suffice -- they have to break out in song... oh, dear, I'm getting teary just thinking about it again.



Last week I finally watched my TV -- thanks CJ for putting my VCR/DVD players together -- I'd had the TV for a year and a half and was just scared that I broke it. I don't have reception, but I was able to pull out one of my favorite movies, A Little Romance, with Diane Lane. My friend who watched it with me was feeling quite cynical about it -- knowing what would happen, that they couldn't really be together... and I was so "into" my movie, I didn't even notice she wasn't laughing and enjoying herself.

Same with tonight... I have another friend who's stressed out about a job she's doing on the side and hates that after all these years in the business, she's still doing "surivial gigs." I couldn't even relate.

And that's okay. Because, as dearest, sweet Heidi says in The Alchemy of Love class I've just begun with her -- one of the steps of the heart is softening the heart. And when I can just sing and cry into my TV, and open my heart to the hope of true, innocent love again -- then I know that I, the optimistic Seven, am out of my head in the right place.

It's Hard Out Here for a Pimp

It must be time for me to make art again, as I fell into a "rags to riches" movie and I can't get my own life separate from it. [Pray tell you know however I'm not a pimp OR a 'ho. HAAHHAHA]

Hustle and Flow was terrific... everytime I thought it was going "predictable" it surprised me! I love when movies do that. Terrence Howard was THE BEST in creating this character, so subtle and earnest... he was also A#1 in Crash. And mind you he and Ludacris were both in that as well.

Roger Ebert said it all better than I:

What we see in the "Hustle & Flow" is rarely seen in the movies: the redemptive power of art. Djay is transformed when he finds something he loves doing and is getting better at. To create something out of your own mind and talent and see that it is good.

There's a scene in the church with the most pure, simplest moments of music and emotion... I'm so glad I witnessed it...

And can I just say, that three of my most exciting movies lately have been made by writer-director combos?! Andrew Wagner (The Talent Given Us), Paul Haggis (Crash) and now Craig Brewer (who is... yes... white), not to mention the doc Mad Hot Ballroom. I can't bear to try the "summer blockbusters" out there... "auteur" is where I'm going.

I promise.

Bungled Booty Calls

This week has been a bit OFF. Still recovering from parental visit, I guess... you think I'd be over that by now... I'm finding I get a bit nuts when I've had an emotional rollercoaster weekend/week, and I can be reactive and reckless to try to get back to the normality of my life...

And yes, that's call(s) -- plural.

First one shouldn't have happened -- am I still such an idiot to think I'd could meet a "nice fella" by instant message? ("Yes, Madley, you are.") I know better... folks are lookin' to hook up when they're online like that, which is one of the reasons I usually don't have my Buddy List on (or is it so all my past digressions don't find me anymore?! Be honest here.)

So I'm on yakking with a friend about Mad Hot Ballroom (go see it, I've seen it twice this week -- great belly laughs! -- and this rumba scene is my favorite in the entire film) on the rare IM night... and some little bugger is just charming online. Obviously has done this many a time before, but I'll play.

Well, got on the phone after 15 minutes of flirty typing... ends up he's "only" ten years younger than me, and quite intelligent. But when you start playing "I'll tell you a secret" games on the phone... come on now, you know where this is going.

And I went. What a sorry, uncomfortable time this was. I'll never forget it -- for as wonderful T. was in NYC (my Cinderella in the City week), this smooth-talkin' fellow was just WRONG. I berated myself at the time the same as I'm doing now... wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.

No MORE newbies like that. I end up disliking myself to no end, and that doesn't fit my life anymore.

===

M. is someone I met online six years ago -- back when IMing was new and... well, it felt better anyway. We actually talked for a long while, and met up with the intention of maybe dating for real. No such luck ;)

I used to call him my f*ck buddy, but after a little pressing on that phrase (as in I really enjoy his company and no, I don't want to share), it seems so disrespectful. (Is there something kinda off about that sentence?... hm...) And "friends with benefits" sounds cloying... so now, he's just my friend, M., that I see on occassion.

So the next evening I'm on IM with the same friend talking about Mad Hot Ballroom AGAIN and now the fabulous musical WICKED that Jeffrey took me to see (THANK YOU, THANK YOU, JEFFREY! Nothing like bawling my eyes out in the first three minutes because I love musicals so much!), and M. and I chat for a few minutes. He then says good night because he has to meet a client at 9:00. Night.

Two minutes later he's back on saying a pretty personal phrase that means somethin' special to the two of us and ka-boom, it's late but I'm going to be there in 30 minutes.

45 minutes later, I'm still in my car and I realizing M. wasn't out walking the dog. I try knocking again and get a "who is it?" I say me, and he's half dead.

"Were we supposed to meet tonight?"

Um, yeah... that's what your IM said and I confirmed. Ends up he really went to sleep and someone else must've hacked into his IM. I don't know how (I never know how), but some schmuck/schmuckette must have been laughing to high heaven because he and I really crossed paths.

Poor M. felt bad I'd driven the 21.6 miles over there, but it wasn't his fault (and no, I wasn't gonna stay). And now we have other IM addresses to use as well as a really good code we made verbally to assure that never happens again. Take THAT, stalker!

Or I guess we could use the phone too.

Bottom line... thank god the week's over.

The Day of the Itlug

It's 3:38 and I just finished! My goodness, I impress myself -- I've got lots of stories in there I guess, because they're just all happy to come out! Five pages, 2037 words... and yakking about my mother's story of the Shiny ITLUG...

Oh god, I'm cracking up just thinking about it again!

You know, I'm tempted to put my writing stuff here in this blog so everyone can read it... but there's something in me that knows I will start writing for a result instead of for discovery. So maybe later I will... I don't know where any of this is leading right now and I just want to be open-minded and clear for the ride, not looking for approval...

But catch me in person... it's a funny-ass story. Itlug in this instance means "eggs" like what you scramble, but she uses it as in a MAN's eggs.... MWAHAAHAHHAH

(BTW, good job writing, Missy :) <-- that must be the writing guy in my head I just discovered in today's session. He's wearin' a kilt and looks like Billy Connolly in the movie "Mrs. Brown" -- you know... this guy.



I guess that's my "Writing Guy/Coach" in there. Heya -- Hi! :)