grey marble

May 12, 2006

Tango and more tango

Last night a friend put the idea in my head that I should find an internet radio station playing tango music. After searching around on the net for a bit I discovered one and spent the morning discovering new music and artists.

At lunch, I took Neil out for helping me with some code earlier in the week. We ate at Surya, a decent Indian restaurant on Bleecker Street. The interior was somewhat upscale, and the food was prepared as if to match the decor. Afterwards we went for cupcakes at Magnolia. Along the way I found myself humming Astor Piazolla's "Libertango."

Returning to the office I put on my headphones and turned up the radio. I did a doubletake. I thought I was still humming, but "Libertango" was playing on the station.
listening to:
Posted by eugene at

May 8, 2006

Moving, houseguests, and tango

Tulip moved out Friday night. Charlotte arrived in the middle of the move. Boxes filled the living room and dust floated through the apartment. Charlotte was gracious, offering to help. She had just arrived from Hong Kong to stay for the week and had fallen asleep during her facial. I told her she should rest. Once everything was out of the room, I put sheets on the bed and told Charlotte to make herself at home. Back in the living room, I noticed that Tulip had left a pair of shoes under the bookshelf.

Saturday morning Charlotte had left before I woke up, and I spent the morning cleaning the apartment. I had apologized to her the night before; I had thought Tulip would have finished her move before she arrived, and had hoped to have had the time to clean properly before her arrival. Charlotte assured me it was no problem. I ran errands and then left to meet friends in Central Park, where we took advantage of the afternoon warmth to row boats in the pond.

That afternoon, we went to Chelsea market for the regular afternoon tango sessions. I stood aside and watched. I fell into conversation with a man who had recently returned from Argentina. He had spent 10 days there dancing. He said he took 15 hours of private lessons, and spent every evening at a milonga. He told me I should go. He had taken 2 years of lessons before then, but Argentina changed his dance completely. He told me that if I went, I wouldn't have to take lessons in New York for at least six months for everything that you learn. I said I was considering it and that I was in the process of planning out my next six months of travel and work.

Sunday night found me at the South Street Seaport, again at a tango event. It was the first Sunday evening at the pier and, though it was cold, a number of people made their way around the boardwalk, dancing at the edge of the river. I had joked to a friend that I was just about ready to start buying instructional videos to learn more faster. She said it seemed as though I was on the verge of joining the cult. Posted by eugene at | Comments (1)

May 2, 2006


Last night after work I met up with a friend at the southeast corner of Central Park. The corner of a building was sticking out of the ground. Through the windows we could see an amalgamation of common objects arranged along different planes. People got down on their hands and knees to peer more closely at the various objects. My friend pointed out a paper ipod.

We walked north by the ice skating rink and up past the dairy. At one point we stopped to look at a bunch of people paused by a tree. Some were taking pictures. We looked up into the branches and saw a raccoon making its way down. It stopped in the crook of the tree and we watched as it looked about. People started to walk away and we took a few steps on and looked back.

As the crowd dispersed, the raccoon became more adventurous. It began to make its way slowly down the tree. People walked by oblivious. When the raccoon finally made its way to the ground it cautiously tested the fence lining the path, trying to squeeze under. Once the coast was clear, it pushed underneath and then climbed the opposing fence. Once in a new patch of grass, it lumbered to the brush and disappeared.
Posted by eugene at


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