La Vida Communista

Both Man Yung and I are feeling so sick and so doped up on antibiotics, cough syrup and advil right now, it's the perfect time to hallucinate and reminisce about all the "fun" that Man Yung used to have when he traveled to The People's Republic of China on business right in the middle of the Cultural Revolution.

Man Yung admits the first time was a pretty shocking experience. From the colourful cacophony and chaos that is Hong Kong, he was confronted by a world of monotonous grey, navy and brown. Everyone he met was dressed in the same standard unisex uniform. No matter if you were locals or visitors, if your pants were too long or your haircut unconventional, the ubiquitous "Red Guards" would cut off the offending length of hair or pants for you in public right in the middle of the street, and then surround you and chant communist slogans so that you can be indoctrinated with the right kind of thinking.

All movies were supposed to follow the "Eight basic plots" (anything else would be frivolous or immoral) - and not deviate from this.

All cultural and artistic works were permitted to be dedicated to the praise and glorification of "the Worker, the Farmer and the Soldier" and nothing else.

Of course, people were not only expected to look and act the same, they were also expected speak in the same way and to think the same glorious thoughts about the eternal Maoist revolution.

Even Man Yung thought that all that conformity was a pretty good idea at the time (and sometimes he still does). The comrades were very organized. The uniforms they wore were so comfortable and practical (lots of pockets) - it sure beat having to think about what to wear in the morning. Everyone was working towards the same worthy ideals! Utopia.


I can see how conformity can be seductive. Having certainty and being fully convinced that you are right 100% of the time must be nice.

Am I wrong to be a bit wary? Maybe I don't buy into all this lovely "conformity" (like I don't buy into religious fundamentalism, everyone having an ipod or every newly-minted tango professional dancing in exactly the same way in every new Youtube video since 2007) only because I am a little wrong in the head.


What I may need is a big crowd of very self-assured people around me chanting phrases from "the little red book" of the rules of the tango salon campeonato that they are waving ardently in the air. Then perhaps I can join in and enjoy the macabre hilarity of the radiant, conformist tango future.

* All paintings by the contemporary chinese artist Yue Minjun.

Elba Biscay

As it is getting pretty close to term end and due to the bias of the course towards "Marx-hugging" (I should have known when I walked first walked into class and noticed that 90% of the male students were wearing different versions of Marx-beards - is it a trend? Or does it really improve your ability to comprehend Marx? Unfortunately, I've tried but I still can't grow one so I can't confirm this for myself), I am now attempting to do my utmost to write an essay about how Marx's whole philosophical oeuvre does not make me want to run screaming to the hills (and failing miserably - sorry, I'm not a "Marx-hugger").

This means much less time to blog. But still, I can always make time admire one of the most wonderful milongueras we know - the beautiful and talented Elba Biscay!

The first time I really saw how a real tango vals should be danced was a video that Alberto Dassieu gave to us of his exhibition with Elba at Glorias Argentinas. I've posted it before, but I'm posting it again now:



Here's a more recent video of Elba, this time dancing to the same vals (D'Arienzo's "Valsecito Criollo") with her campeonato partner Antonio Juffre:




And here is a video of Elba Biscay, Adela Galeazzi, Rueben Harymbat (a.k.a. Ruben de Pompeya) and Antonio Juffre doing a little "Milonguero humor" sketch for the crowd at La Milonguita:



Not only is Elba Biscay one of the best followers we've ever encountered (I wish I could dance like her! She is all musicality and entrega with out-of-this-world skills as a follower) she is just about the nicest person ever. I'm embarrassed to say, we crashed her birthday party back in March at Glorias Argentinas but she was totally cool about it and made us feel at home. Further proof that goodness and great tango dancing are part and parcel of the same package.

Dear Elba: Thanks for all your hospitality, and thank you for being a great example for this follower and all followers on how to really, really dance tango!

Marx

I've been trying to read some of the assigned Marx readings for my grad course, but I find that I am falling asleep within seconds of opening my hefty volume of David McLellan's "riveting" anthology of "Karl Marx: Selected Writings".

Am I getting 1) tired, 2) old or 3) both? Or have I succumbed to a virally induced strain of "Marx Narcolepsy" that medical science has yet to know about?

One distressing symptom is my complete alienation from the desire to either a) make ice cream or b) eat ice cream.

At this rate I'm going to rapidly lose weight and finally become the skinny stick-insect x-ray tango-junkie flaquita-ista I've always aspired to become!

Just think about it, with all that extra Marx-induced sleep, I will finally have the energy and drive to accomplish what I have always wanted to do i.e. RULE THE (Ontario, or maybe at least Toronto) TANGO WORLD. I may even find in my Marxist dream state the inspiration to emulate the marvelous dance stylings of the fabulous harem-pants-wearing partners of "Chicho"/"Pulpo"/"Homer"/"John Doe"/"Fred Bloggs" etc

Face-dancing, shoulder-shrugging, butt-shimmying, arm-lifting, pelvis-grinding, roomworkingschmoozing tango/trance/ecstasy, here I come!