Steamy notes on quiet nights

Last week I was telling my senior colleague how much I loved my Astor Piazzola CD (you know, the tango guy from Argentina). Did I ever read the album notes to some of his records and CDs – my colleague asked. No, can’t say that I have. I just like playing it in the background, especially when I am writing – it is so sensuously moody, a melancholy kind of music.

Today I opened an email from my colleague and there they were: program notes from some of the albums I did not have. They came with a suggestion to drink wine, listen to the music and read them out loud (presumably to someone). I am alone at the moment and if I drink wine I wont be able to work or do whatever I have set forth for myself tonight, so I’ll just share the notes with the blog readers. Remember the dry language that typically accompanies classical recordings? Piazzola is every bit a classical artist (this recording is from the 1960s I believe). But read this and tell me if you find it boring (if you are prudish, skip this post):

Album notes to Astor PIazzola y su Quinteto Tango Nuevo: Hora Zero (listen to it here)

Strip to your underwear if you’re not in black ties. Get obscene if you want, but never casual. You feel an urge? Touch its pain, wrap yourself around it. Don’t put on airs. What you seem must be what you are, and what you are is a mess, honey, but that’s okay, as long as you wear it inside. Look sharp! Don’t slouch. See anyone slouching here? Stay poised, taut. Listen to your nerves. It’s zero hour. Anxiety encroaches, wave after wave, with every squeeze of the bandoneon. Already twisted by the contraposto of uprightness and savagery, this new tango turns the screw even tighter with its jazz dissonances and truncated phrasings. No relief. No quarter. At zero hour only passion can save you… It’s all a game. You’re going to play too. You’re going to dance with the tiger. Don’t worry, your life is in danger. Remember your instructions. Listen up. And suffer, m*****f*****, this is the tango.

Man, they don’t write them like they used to!

"They are a symbol of power without responsibility, and that's what we feel about you guys right now"

This statement about SUVs (and Americans) was made by a professor of transport psychology at a university in Edinburgh (IHT story here).

SUVs are a fairly recent phenomenon in Europe. Driving around tight spaces in old cities and the astronomical cost of gas do not, for the most part, invite large-car ownership. But slowly, SUVs are making their way into the automobile market across the ocean amidst the protest and dismay of many. Read this (emph. my own):

European wariness of SUVs is expressed in different ways. In Rome, the city government has proposed charging SUV owners triple the regular rate for permits to drive in the historic city center. ... [T]he feeling goes, there is just no room for the unwieldy and intimidating SUVs.
The city's transportation commissioner, Mario Di Carlo, said that, if he could, he would put up signs saying, "Please don't come here with these cars."

"I don't want to be like Freud, but SUVs are a projection, a compensating thing," Di Carlo said in an interview. "They're when you want to show how rich, how powerful, how tall, how big you are."

..."SUV drivers are less respectful of other people - you can tell by the way they drive," Di Carlo said. "They park on the sidewalks. Mobility is freedom, but these cars in cities mean immobility, and someone has to have the guts to say it."

...In London, where SUVs are known derisively as "Chelsea tractors," after an upscale neighborhood in which they are especially thick on the road, Mayor Ken Livingston recently dismissed their drivers as "complete idiots."

Drivers report having rude things shouted at them by pedestrians, and a group called the Alliance Against Urban 4x4s has taken to slapping fake tickets on parked SUVs, citing them for poor vehicle choice... "People who see Hummers driving around think, 'Oh, disgusting Americans,"' said Sian Berry, a founding member of the group. "We're saying that what happened in America must not be allowed to happen here."

I sense a lot of displaced anger in this charge. In general, the more you read the international presses, the more you sense that the relationship between the US and Europe needs a nice long session on a shrink's leather couch. Of course, as in a dysfunctional marriage, it'll be the children of both who will be paying the price for years to come.

Starting the week with an up-beat story

Several of my friends are dating these days. Looking to find a partner in life, they turn to me with questions that I find difficult to answer: should I call him if he hadn’t called me? Should I bother, given the fact that he is shorter than I am? How should I interpret his email behavior, or lack thereof?

Recently everyone has been talking about the book He’s Just Not That Into You. Amidst the cacophony of reactions I hear one that stands out: since the beginning of time, men like to be the chasers. Do not bother calling: if he wants to see you he’ll call back. Add a few other conventional wisdoms: men don’t like smart women and women don’t like short men and you’ve limited your universe of acceptable dating behaviors considerably.

It’s all good advice I’m sure. I mean, what do I know about American men anyway.

Yet, last night, someone pointed me to a true story that breaks from the gaggle of noise about the one right way to date. (You can also find it if you follow the link from the salon.com story on dating short men here.) Sure, you can adhere to the *sound* advice of He’s Just Not That Into You. Or not. Here is an excerpt from a wedding announcement appearing in the New York Times:

The bride and bridegroom met two years ago at a dinner party. It was a few days after Ms. Schonfeld had taken the bar exam, and she was so exhausted that she fell asleep on a couch, awakening only after everyone else had left.

Even asleep, Ms. Schonfeld, stretching to 5-foot-10, made an impression on Mr. Leib. He made an impression, too, not only, she said, because he is ''notably short'' -- he is 5-foot-6 -- but also ''notably smart,'' with a disregard for small talk.

Even when she told him she thought she recognized him from a high school hockey game, she said, he seemed to have his mind on other things. ''I thought it was kind of neat,'' she said.
Mr. Leib acknowledged that he can seem brusque, adding, ''I have a tendency to be that way upon first impression.''

Two months later, through their dinner party host, a date was arranged.
''It seemed almost experimental to date someone who was four inches shorter than me,'' Ms. Schonfeld said with a laugh.

Mr. Leib said he wore his ''tall shoes.'' And as their first date extended to six hours, they discovered they had something in common worth talking about: both had engaged in comically bad behavior in previous relationships.

With that kind of history, Mr. Leib recalled, he was not certain either of them would want a second date.

Rather than call, he sent her an e-mail message, concluding, he said, ''Of course I should never see you,'' and ''of course I'm way too short for you.''

But she was not quite ready to walk away, she said.
''He was so emotionally intelligent about where he was coming from and what he was thinking,'' she noted. ''We were both so incredibly frank with each other. That was quite impressive to me.''

So she called him.

So ends the wedding announcement, so begins their life together. Sweet and unconventional, just the way it should be.