Normally, I'd post this blog entry in the "Stranger Than Fiction" blog seeing as it technically deals with entertainment, but the concert of a lifetime that I experienced last night was more suited for this page, where I reveal most of my innermost feelings and secrets. Because the artists that crossed the stage were not merely entertainers who were putting on your average Saturday night show. These were living legends del Merengue. And a major part of my life. And all of this after seeing a wonderful exhibit at El Museo del Barrio on Merengue that featured some very talented Dominican artists earlier that day.
Most of you only know the jaded, bitter, angry, crazy, silly native NYer that I've been since about age 15. But before then, I was simply Dominican, and all that it implies: obsessed with beisbol, novelas, arroz con gandules, habichuelas dulce, and merengue. These artists shaped me, enticed me, turned me into a five-year-old groupie drawing "I-heart-Sandy Reyes" (musician who sang with Wilfredo Vargas) all over everything. I remember meeting some of these famous musicians as a kid; some even hung out at my birthday parties. My mom was cool with them. And somewhere there still exists a picture of me and Sandy Reyes...I was so in love with this man...but I digress...
Last night I sat in the 3rd row while Hector "El Torito" Acosta, Sergio Vargas, Bonny & Richie Cepeda, Raulin, Jacinto Gantier, Tito Kenton and "El Mayimbe" himself...Fernandito Villalona stood before me on that stage and belted out tunes that took me back to 572 Greene Avenue, 68 Patchen, and even Stuyvesant between Hancock and Halsey- all my old stomping grounds.
"La Chula," "Si Algun Dia La Vez," "Baila En La Calle," "Maricella," "Te Amo Demasiado"...I can go on and on about the set list, but I know most of you who read this are not familiar with merengue so I won't. Suffice it to say, I came real close to losing my voice singing along.
It was moving to see Fernandito up there doing his thing, his voice like liquid flowing right through me, untouched by the heart attack that nearly took his life recently. He moved a little slower and has put on pounds, but he's alive and can still sing his heart out. At one point he stood at the edge of the stage, and I swear to god, SANG RIGHT TO ME; POINTED TO ME AND EVERYTHING!!!! I almost came in my pants. To explain it to you in layman's terms, it was like seeing Prince or Luther Vandross and have him single you out during a ballad. I all but died on the spot. He closed the show, to a crowd thick with his fellow Cibao natives waving the Dominican flag tears in their (our) eyes and singing along, with "Dominicano Soy."
Forget meeting John Cusack or Slash...I can die happy now...
...Because El Mayimbe Vive!!!
*besos*
---------------------
Dominicano soy
de miz raizes you no voy a olvidarme
soy de un raza tan humilde y tan grande
que de sus penas hacen rayos de sol...
para los gringos:
I am Dominican
I will never forget my roots
I come from a humble and great people
That turn their troubles into rays of sunlight
Sunday, October 08, 2006
Friday, October 06, 2006
The Possibilities of Butterlies
Sometimes the anticipation of a first kiss reminds you why it's worth it to dust yourself off after a devastating break-up.
It makes all those days in between the time your old lover rips your heart out and your new lover takes you in his arms, those days when all was lost and you just wanted to cry and die a million deaths, appear foolishly wasted.
You realize all isn't lost. Romance is not dead. It just happened that you had exhausted your possibilities. But just for a little while.
A new lover brings new adventures. And most importantly- the possibility of butterflies.
These thoughts keep you going.
Even when your old lover resurfaces, still tugging at your heart strings, awakening old desires. Even when he still calls you and wants to see you. And claims to really care for you, "...for real for real."
Even when you give in and agree to see him.
The possibilities always bring back the butterflies. Those damn flutterly butterflies.
They'll get you every time!
*smooches*
---------------------
the answer to each moment must be yes
and the question: can you live with that?
becomes the test
so you weigh it against that aching in your chest
and that secretly relentless emptiness
It makes all those days in between the time your old lover rips your heart out and your new lover takes you in his arms, those days when all was lost and you just wanted to cry and die a million deaths, appear foolishly wasted.
You realize all isn't lost. Romance is not dead. It just happened that you had exhausted your possibilities. But just for a little while.
A new lover brings new adventures. And most importantly- the possibility of butterflies.
These thoughts keep you going.
Even when your old lover resurfaces, still tugging at your heart strings, awakening old desires. Even when he still calls you and wants to see you. And claims to really care for you, "...for real for real."
Even when you give in and agree to see him.
The possibilities always bring back the butterflies. Those damn flutterly butterflies.
They'll get you every time!
*smooches*
---------------------
the answer to each moment must be yes
and the question: can you live with that?
becomes the test
so you weigh it against that aching in your chest
and that secretly relentless emptiness
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Office Politics- A Play in One Act
This isn't in 100% script format, so bear with me...I was in a rush...
Fade In:
It is 3:00 in the afternoon in a typical Manhattan corporate office filled with cubicles and computer stations. A beautiful and striking Latina sits at her computer working hard. A tall, doofy, lanky fellow saunters over.
Lanky Doof:
Hey, it's Slacker Girl's birthday and we got her a secret fruit-tart-cake thing. We're all meeting in the back conference room right now. Shhh!
Beautiful Striking Latina:
Um, okay.
Cut to:
Small conference room with eight chairs around an oval table. A group of executives shuffle in and grab seats around the table. One woman, the Head Honcho, goes into the fridge to get the fruit-tart-cake thing, places it on the table, and the door opens. Slacker Girl enters
Group:
(in unison; half-heartedly)
surprise...
Slacker Girl:
Oh wow, I never would have guessed it, what with everybody disappearing at once
Group:
(in unison)
Ha Ha
Tall Annoying Guy:
How old are you now- 19?
Group:
(in unison)
Ha ha
Head Honcho:
She did get carded on our business trip to Chicago.
Slacker Girl:
Yeah. I did.
Group:
(in unison)
Ha ha
NJ Loser:
Good thing I don't get carded cause there's no photo on my Jersey driver's license. (pulls ot wallet) See.
Group:
(in unison)
wow. cool. haha.
NJ Loser:
But it's legal in NJ! Ha!
Group:
(in unison)
wow. cool. haha.
Head Honcho:
You, down at the end
(points to some lowly executive)
Cut the tart and pass the slices around
Lowly Executive:
Yes'm miss boss
(cuts the tart and passes the slices around)
Head Honcho:
So let me tell you all about the business trip that nobody wants to hear about:
WAH WAH WAH, WAH WAH WAH, WAH WAH WAH WAH, WAH WAH, WAH WAH WAH WAH...
Group:
(in unison)
Ha ha!
Beautiful Striking Latina:
Uh, I'm going to go back to work now.
Group:
(ignore her in unison; direct their attention to Head Honcho)
so tell us more, miss boss...
Fade Out.
I really truly madly HATE WITH ALL MY BEING office birthdays.
What is the purpose of the faux celebration? And why ask me over? I don't socialize with you people. You are not my homies, compadres or vatos...I never thought I'd say this, but can I just get back to work? Jeez!!!
*smooches*
---------------------
i bet you're teetering on the edge of sobriety
just to alleviate a few things
like the fear that you're standing here
cuz you want to be liked
you know you need your instrument
but does your instrument need to be miked?
Fade In:
It is 3:00 in the afternoon in a typical Manhattan corporate office filled with cubicles and computer stations. A beautiful and striking Latina sits at her computer working hard. A tall, doofy, lanky fellow saunters over.
Lanky Doof:
Hey, it's Slacker Girl's birthday and we got her a secret fruit-tart-cake thing. We're all meeting in the back conference room right now. Shhh!
Beautiful Striking Latina:
Um, okay.
Cut to:
Small conference room with eight chairs around an oval table. A group of executives shuffle in and grab seats around the table. One woman, the Head Honcho, goes into the fridge to get the fruit-tart-cake thing, places it on the table, and the door opens. Slacker Girl enters
Group:
(in unison; half-heartedly)
surprise...
Slacker Girl:
Oh wow, I never would have guessed it, what with everybody disappearing at once
Group:
(in unison)
Ha Ha
Tall Annoying Guy:
How old are you now- 19?
Group:
(in unison)
Ha ha
Head Honcho:
She did get carded on our business trip to Chicago.
Slacker Girl:
Yeah. I did.
Group:
(in unison)
Ha ha
NJ Loser:
Good thing I don't get carded cause there's no photo on my Jersey driver's license. (pulls ot wallet) See.
Group:
(in unison)
wow. cool. haha.
NJ Loser:
But it's legal in NJ! Ha!
Group:
(in unison)
wow. cool. haha.
Head Honcho:
You, down at the end
(points to some lowly executive)
Cut the tart and pass the slices around
Lowly Executive:
Yes'm miss boss
(cuts the tart and passes the slices around)
Head Honcho:
So let me tell you all about the business trip that nobody wants to hear about:
WAH WAH WAH, WAH WAH WAH, WAH WAH WAH WAH, WAH WAH, WAH WAH WAH WAH...
Group:
(in unison)
Ha ha!
Beautiful Striking Latina:
Uh, I'm going to go back to work now.
Group:
(ignore her in unison; direct their attention to Head Honcho)
so tell us more, miss boss...
Fade Out.
I really truly madly HATE WITH ALL MY BEING office birthdays.
What is the purpose of the faux celebration? And why ask me over? I don't socialize with you people. You are not my homies, compadres or vatos...I never thought I'd say this, but can I just get back to work? Jeez!!!
*smooches*
---------------------
i bet you're teetering on the edge of sobriety
just to alleviate a few things
like the fear that you're standing here
cuz you want to be liked
you know you need your instrument
but does your instrument need to be miked?
Monday, October 02, 2006
It's the End of the World As We Know It...
But I'm not fine. And I want to apologize ahead of time for the profanity that will ensue...
I usually shy away from anything remotely related to the news/current events/the news, but today I had to make an exception when I read that a man held young girls hostage in an Amish school before shooting a few of them and then himself.
What...The...Fuck???!!
Not much surprises me in this world: terrorists blew up the WTC? Oh, it must be Tuesday...Little kid molested by parent? Oh, is it Wednesday already? Black man gunned down by cops while reaching for wallet? What was he doing with a wallet, hmmm?
But shooting some Amish kids? Execution style? Because you have childhood issues? Motherfucker: who doesn't? You think you're the only one who wakes up in a cold sweat remembering shit that happened to you as a kid? You think that nobody else on the planet has wounds that will never heal? Fucking deal with it, asshole! Cry me a river, build a fucking bridge and GET OVER IT!!!!
And I suppose the NRA jerks are sticking with the whole, "guns don't kill people" bullshit, right? Because guns are produced to help flowers bloom and kittens be born, not to kill and mame and ruin lives and leave us feeling cold and scared and jaded. No, not at all. Guns bring a warm and fuzzy feeling...oh no wait, that's the sensation of the life draining out of me after some 10-year-old decides I'm not handing over my purse fast enough and decides to put a cap in my ass. Silly me.
Let me not even get started on this soapbox entry...just as with competitive sports, these are the kind of topics that bring out my ugly side. So it's best I just, for this one time only, in the name of those little girls who barely had a chance to live, let go and let God...if there is one...
*extra-extra-smooches...be safe tonight*
-----------------------------------------------
the sun is setting on the century
and we are armed to the teeth
we're all working together now
to make our lives mercifully brief...
...and every year now like christmas
some boy gets the milkfed suburban blues
reaches for the available arsenal
and saunters off to make the news
Sunday, October 01, 2006
Adventures in Money
New York City.
My love-hate relationship with you continues.
I can't seem to keep up with my money in this city. And it's driving me to drink and over-eat...I fear the fate of my new lighter, cuter bod in the face of financial difficulty. Of course, it's made worse by the onset of PMS and the stress of having one of my papers and a revised short story rejected (it seems my reign of literary genius has come to a halt). But it escalated when I realized I was only working 2 days last week and my rent was due.
And it looks like maybe this week I'll only be working 2 days as well. I wonder if ConEd and Keyspan and Verizon Wireless and Cablevision will mind not getting their money this month...and I wonder if it's a long walk from Boro Park to Midtown, since I probably won't have enough money to buy a metrocard...and I wonder if my nanny will mind bartering this month...
There are things in the works in the future to help alleviate my stress- after my divorce is final my ex will have to pay monthly child support payments that will help a lot; I have a refund from school coming in mid-October; I have a few freelance gigs that should keep me afloat through October/November; when I graduate I will be qualified to teach on the college level- but in the meantime I must survive on what my ex can afford to throw my way, my temp salary, and hmmm... not much else except the complete sympathy and understanding of the utility companies who continue to supply me with light and gas and internet access and phone service based on my past as a loyal and prompt customer. But I'm sure even Verizon has their breaking point.
Times like this I wonder if I would do better financially somewhere else. But then I realize that while the money might be better, my emotional stability will be at stake. And folks, we all know I'm hanging by a thread as it is. My Bellvue suitcase is still packed and ready to go at a moment's notice...
*smooches*
--------------------
i wonder if everything i do
i do instead
of something i want to do more
the question fills my head
i know there's no grand plan here
this is just the way it goes
when everything else seems unclear
i guess at least i know
My love-hate relationship with you continues.
I can't seem to keep up with my money in this city. And it's driving me to drink and over-eat...I fear the fate of my new lighter, cuter bod in the face of financial difficulty. Of course, it's made worse by the onset of PMS and the stress of having one of my papers and a revised short story rejected (it seems my reign of literary genius has come to a halt). But it escalated when I realized I was only working 2 days last week and my rent was due.
And it looks like maybe this week I'll only be working 2 days as well. I wonder if ConEd and Keyspan and Verizon Wireless and Cablevision will mind not getting their money this month...and I wonder if it's a long walk from Boro Park to Midtown, since I probably won't have enough money to buy a metrocard...and I wonder if my nanny will mind bartering this month...
There are things in the works in the future to help alleviate my stress- after my divorce is final my ex will have to pay monthly child support payments that will help a lot; I have a refund from school coming in mid-October; I have a few freelance gigs that should keep me afloat through October/November; when I graduate I will be qualified to teach on the college level- but in the meantime I must survive on what my ex can afford to throw my way, my temp salary, and hmmm... not much else except the complete sympathy and understanding of the utility companies who continue to supply me with light and gas and internet access and phone service based on my past as a loyal and prompt customer. But I'm sure even Verizon has their breaking point.
Times like this I wonder if I would do better financially somewhere else. But then I realize that while the money might be better, my emotional stability will be at stake. And folks, we all know I'm hanging by a thread as it is. My Bellvue suitcase is still packed and ready to go at a moment's notice...
*smooches*
--------------------
i wonder if everything i do
i do instead
of something i want to do more
the question fills my head
i know there's no grand plan here
this is just the way it goes
when everything else seems unclear
i guess at least i know
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