I'm having a hard time processing New Years.
The facts are easy. I flew solo and rang in Twenty Ten on the tango floor, in some warehouse space on West 35th Street. I had a champagne kiss at midnight, I watched the ball drop via projection screen, I bobbed and swayed awkwardly to Auld Lang Syne, and I ended the evening post argument with the PAPD (over the transport of a split of Veuve via mass transit) sprawled in the 28th St station flipping through Breakfast at Tiffany's and making fun of drunken Jersey douchebags and their funny celebratory hats. Rather, that is how I started the morning. But . . . details.
What really matters here is almost untellable: the dancing. This is where I run out of words. I am a beginner in tango, my one year (minus, of course, the four months I spent running away) ending, the next beginning. In this way, I suppose, I've managed to bookend 2009 in tango, giving my life a symmetry I'm afraid it does not deserve.
Last January I tentatively picked my way through SoHo for Basic Argentine Tango class, Section 1, at the Sandra Cameron Dance Center, a pair of hideous nun-smacking dance shoes at my side. This was just another New Years Resolution I wouldn't keep. I'm sure I had no idea how my life would change. One year later, my eyes closed, my slightly more presentable shoes battered and worn, I had some of my loveliest dances yet.
And there is so much more to learn.
The facts are easy. I flew solo and rang in Twenty Ten on the tango floor, in some warehouse space on West 35th Street. I had a champagne kiss at midnight, I watched the ball drop via projection screen, I bobbed and swayed awkwardly to Auld Lang Syne, and I ended the evening post argument with the PAPD (over the transport of a split of Veuve via mass transit) sprawled in the 28th St station flipping through Breakfast at Tiffany's and making fun of drunken Jersey douchebags and their funny celebratory hats. Rather, that is how I started the morning. But . . . details.
What really matters here is almost untellable: the dancing. This is where I run out of words. I am a beginner in tango, my one year (minus, of course, the four months I spent running away) ending, the next beginning. In this way, I suppose, I've managed to bookend 2009 in tango, giving my life a symmetry I'm afraid it does not deserve.
Last January I tentatively picked my way through SoHo for Basic Argentine Tango class, Section 1, at the Sandra Cameron Dance Center, a pair of hideous nun-smacking dance shoes at my side. This was just another New Years Resolution I wouldn't keep. I'm sure I had no idea how my life would change. One year later, my eyes closed, my slightly more presentable shoes battered and worn, I had some of my loveliest dances yet.
And there is so much more to learn.
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1 comment:
It was sad to have a new years without ya!
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