Queer Night 2


Felt awful today,  beyond tired.  The last few days I wake up feeling that sleeping is a lot of work.  Dehydration,  maybe? The exhaustion didn’t lift at the low-ceilinged milonga at Bebop.  The music was bland and the sound system turned it into porridge.

Again,  it was great to șee friends,  and I got to meet Marc’s husband at last.  But I wasn’t moved to dance much.  Heat + low ceiling + boring music…

While not dancing I noticed to my surprise that women seemed to make up nearly half of the dancers.

Noted that mostly people are using the cabeceo.

Photo from last tanda with extra space.


Silences in history. Silences by code. Silences of fear. You already know that Tango’s silences can be sublime and they can be devastating.

What I do in my blog is use myself as a lens – sometimes a microscope, sometimes a telescope. I try to be as honest with myself and you as words concede. Then I try to find a deeper meaning and imagine a pathway for us.

A blog post can be a fragment, a wisp of inspiration, an outline for thinking. A book must complete and reconcile it all. Now I drag the social scientist to the scene to enumerate the facts of the case, the mystery which brought both stardom and tragedy to my life.

I invite you to join my resolution to take a look at the dark silences of Argentine Tango in our lives. It’s time.


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