Las librerías (The bookstores)

I'm going to this librería tonight.
It's called El Ateneo (1860 Santa Fe, BsAs).

La americana

Y, si se puede saber,
?cómo es que te consume esa revista que vas leyendo?
Te hablo, te hablo en serio, americana, rubia, cuerpo de ex-gimnasta.
(Bueno, te hablo telepáticamente, pero, igual, te hablo francamente también.)

A ver,
?es que Vanity Fair sea tan ineresante de verdad, o es que estás disimulando?

Ensalada, sopa, helado...Revista.

Capaz que quisieras algo más.

Que sí,
Que el helado te ha traicionado!

Los ajedrecistas (The chessplayers)

There we were: Ruben, Maneesh, Carrie, Lucas, Horash, Guido, and me. I really knew none of these people. Ash from a purro floated in Ruben's finished bowl of frosted flakes. Carrie had just brought in a lemon meringue pie as a gesture of goodwill, and we were about to order pizza. Horash, an Italian-Iranian, called it in; they said it'd be 80 pesos for 2 larges and some empanadas. Lucas, a local, couldn't believe it. He called back. Asked about the price. "40 pesos," they now said, and apologized for the error.

I was wearing a hat - a vain attempt to dissimulate the blemish on my forehead. Ruben and Horash, meanwhile, apparently felt no need to hide their chest acne underneath a shirt. I wasn't sure what any of this said about any of us. Surely something!

The plan was to go see a drum show that would go from 7-10pm, but we were in no hurry. As we waited for the pizza to arrive, Horash asked me if I would like to play a game of chess. "Oh," I hesitated, "I really haven't played for a while, and I'm not very good either." Both of my excuses were true. I used to play a fair amount back when I was a camp counselor, in my early 20's and late teen's. I even led an activity called "Chess w/ Wellser!" a few times, which was fun. But the thought of playing chess brought back bad memories as well, including always being bested by an 11-year old named Trevor, no matter how I thought I had him cornered. "You got served, Wellser. Checkmate," he would calmly state, looking me square in the eye, and then proceed to flick over my king with his child finger. "What!?!" I'd helplessly bemoan back at the boy..."Ahh, come on," Horash implored. "I'm not very good either. Let's just play one game!" "OK, OK, one game."

Horash indeed was not very good, but he still handily beat me. His was a modest victory, and we had a pleasant chat as we played. Ruben and Lucas kept trying to sing some song together all the while. "What song are they singing?" I asked Horash. "You don't know this song!?!" he nearly screamed at me. "It's '_________!' It's by Jack Johnson! How can you not know this song!?! I can't believe you, man." I had no reply.

At 9:30 Ruben, Maneesh, and myself finally make our way to the drum show. The group, made up of 17 percussion players on different instruments, was called La Bomba del Tiempo (Time bomb) and it's self-styled description read "El trance del ritmo en estado puro" ("Rhythm's trance in its purest state"). Of course, we took it in from the street, along with scores of other people, both local and foreign, as it was too late to get in to the venue, but that was fine by me.

Monday night, and there's not much going on, so we head back to the house with the chess board. Finding myself with little to do, I watch as Guido and Maneesh play. Guido is impossibly handsome and also impossible to understand. He doesn't so much articulate words as he laughs them out of his mouth. Like Cody from Step by Step, but in Spanish.

Guido wins, and, since everyone else at the house seems to be occupied, I'm asked if I'd like to play next. I don't really want to, but I say OK. I move first. "That's a stupid way to start out the game!" Guido laughs. The game goes on for a bit...
"What are you thinking, Robert?
Don't your pawns matter to you - they're people, too, you know!
Wow. You are not very good.
When was the last time you played?
Look at me, everyone! I'm able play chess, talk on the phone with an ugly girl, smoke, and drink - All at the same time! I'm multi-tasking!"

Lucas comes over to see what all the commotion is about. "You know, he can beat you in four moves, Guido," he says. Guido laughs it off, naturally. "Whatever, boludo." I clearly don't see what Lucas is talking about; I don't give a damn either. Lucas starts to engage me in conversation as the game continues. I tell him what I'm doing here in Buenos Aires. "Oh, yeah? I already have a doctorate from the states" he tells me. His work clothes still on, though his white, fitted shirt is now unbuttoned halfway down his chest. "Nice. In what?" I ask. "Business administration? International relations?" "No, in computer programming." "Ah, cool. From where?" A dramatic pause leads to a smile of superiority: "MIT. And you should move your rook here." At which point, he moves my rook for me.

Northern Rob en el Sur

Hello, everyone! Here go some random thoughts about my first few days in Buenos Aires:

I made a conceited effort not to take a nap today. I have been suffering some sort of wicked jet lag/poor sleep scheduling since I arrived, which I believe I correctly attributed to two inter-related phenomena: 1) not getting much sleep right before and right after my arrival due to A) nerves, B) the overnight flight in from Toronto where it seemed, despite the red wine, Benadryl, and flight pillow, all was turbulence and seat belts all night long, and C) the 4 hr change in time; and 2) new found habits of A) staying up till 4 or 5 am, B) waking up after noon, and C) taking long naps between the hours of 6 and 9pm - all hours local time. BIORHYTHMS. I got away from the nap today by going to a quaint, old, traditional café called EL GATO NEGRO (THE BLACK CAT) in the early evening, where I read a recently purchased book about Ortega y Gasset and his influence on Latin America and (for, perhaps, the third time) the editor's introduction to Kant's Critique of Judgment. Maybe tomorrow I'll get past that dang introduction; although, I think the Kantian tendency to split and delineate has already affected my thinking (see above re: sleep)!

Admittedly, I have yet to really explore the city. Meaning, for me, at least, I have yet to take any public transit anywhere. It's been all on foot so far, but that's to change this week. I have, however, already purchased muchos libros (much books), with many of them related directly to the dissertation. All the book purchases stem from the fact that a nearby thoroughfare - la Avenida Corrientes - is chock-full of new/used bookstores, which is nice. Nevertheless, the bookstores themselves aren't so easy to navigate, as they seem to lack any clear order and none of the books have prices marked on them. These qualities do give the stores' employees something to do, though, as I'm always forced to ask them for help. Eh, perdón, eh, ?dónde se encuentra la sección de literatura argentina?

Something else at the end of Corrientes is the (world famous??) obelisk. As an undergrad, I once read some existentialist story about this very obelisk by an Argentine writer who was obviously affected by it and attempted to imbue the monument with some sense of personal and national angst. Perhaps there was something sexual about the obelisk in the story, too - though maybe I only see that possible signification now, in person: all ready to go with nowhere to go. Maybe this is why Argentines (or, at least, the folks in Buenos Aires, aka los porteños) are all so obsessed w/ Freud and Lacan!! Me? I was impressed, yes, but felt neither existential nor sexual. No raised malaise for this young man.

The other interesting thing about the general area around le obelisque is that it stands in the middle of what is purported to be the largest/widest city street in the world, la Avenida 9 de Julio.

I really like my current living situation. Much better than in Mexico City a couple summers back, where I stayed in a decent hotel, where I didn't go out after 8:30pm, where all I had was a shitty version of Tetris and my books. I'm staying here in BsAs with an artist couple, Leo and Daniel, they're weiner dog, Piolin, and their two cats, Domenico and ???, and they're all great. Except for the cats. When Domenico meows it sounds like a baby's cry, and that freaks me out. Anyways, Leo y Daniel are both very friendly, helpful, patient, talented, and smart. They routinely rent their spare rooms out to travelers and students. I started out with the small room - but have moved on just tonight (25.01.09) to the larger room. (I'll have more about the apartment and Leo and Daniel's artwork in a future post/email.)

One recent household blunder of mine happened just last night. I had yet to plug in the nice, JBL, i-pod compatible speakers that I had more or less stolen from my father in KC, and, as I was getting ready to go out to a party, I wanted some louder music to get me into the party mood. PARTY TIME w/ RAWBERTO WELLZ!! It was around 8:30pm, and I had just awaken from a nice nap, after all! When I plugged in the A/C adaptor for the speakers, however, an electric snap sounded and all the power went out in the apartment. I could smell the faint hint of smoke. No one else was around, so I didn't know what to do. Nor had I the cell numbers of either Leo or Daniel. Hence, I left them a note in scribbled Spanish (I couldn't see what I was writing) detailing the electrical accident and my own, personal, sunflower-designed keylight that my Grandmother gave me one Christmas, and that I had kept in my backpack ever since for moments such as this. In the end, I made it to the party, enjoyed myself, and came home to a lighted home, as L&D had come back and flipped the big switch. (1)

(By the way, I have a flickr site for my photos, too. Admittedly, the photos aren't super-iiiiiiiiinnnteresting as of yet, but that should change soon.)

Abrazos (Embraces),
Robert

(1) Hay una luz que sí se extingue: la de los baños extranjeros.

Sublime Soul - Tammi Terrell "All I Do"

Originally unreleased, co-written by Stevie when he was only 16 years old, this mid-tempo floater by Tammi Terrell sends shivers down the spine.

Saturday Night in Lawrence, KS

My playlist:

GOLD LABEL SOUL – 1/17/09

Bonnie Brisker – Someone Really Loves You [Magic City]
Sea Shells – Quiet Home [Villige]
Detroit Emeralds – Holding On [Westbound]
Tony Hestor – Just Can’t Leave You [Karate]
Melvin Davis – I Must Love You [Groovesville]
Garland Green – Girl I Love You [Revue]
Lorraine Chandler – What Can I Do [Giant]
Jackie Wilson – Because of You [Brunswick]
Deon Jackson – That’s What You Do To Me [Carla]
Martha Star – No Part Time Love For Me [Thelma]
Philip Mitchell – Free For All (Winner Takes All) [Shout]
Frances Nero – Keep On Lovin’ Me [Soul]
The Volumes – I Just Can’t Help Myself [American Arts, demo]
The Ringleaders – Baby, What Has Happened To Our Love [M-Pac]
Ronnie & Robyn – Sidra’s Theme [Sidra, demo]
Betty James – I’m A Little Mixed Up [Chess]
Ray Charles – I Don’t Need No Doctor [ABC]
Flame N King and the Bold Ones – Ho Happy Day [N.Y.C.S.]
Cania – Visions [Tammy Jo]
Pages – Heartaches & Pain [Sunstruck]
Gloria Jones – Tainted Love [Champion]
Nelson Sanders – This Love Is Here To Stay [LaBeat]
Sue Ann Jones – I’ll Give You My Love [TCB]
Ronnie McNeir – Sitting In My Class [De-To]
Margie Joseph – I Can’t Move No Mountains [Atlantic, demo]
Ike & Tina Turner – Somebody Needs You [Loma]
Silky Hargraves – Keep Loving Me (Like You Do) [Dearborn]
Joe Bataan – Subway Joe [Fania]
Eddie Bo – From This Day On [Seven B]
David Peoples – Got To Get My Broom Out [Saru]
Betty Moorer – Speed Up [Wand]
Al Hudson & The Soul Partners – I’m About Loving You [ATCO]
Archie Bell & The Drells – Where Will You Go When The Party’s Over [PIR]
David Ruffin – You Can Come Right Back To Me [Motown]
The Detroit Executives – The Cool Off [Pameline]
Dee Edwards – (I Can) Deal With That [De-To]
Almeta Lattimore – These Memories [Mainstream, demo]
Gloria Gaynor – This Love Affair [Polydor, demo]

Ann Arbor Soul Club - Preview Mix

This is something I put together back for the November '08 Soul Club.
Enjoy!

Poems, in Spanish

I think I'll keep working on the second one, "El caballero callado," but I'm pleased with the simple relationship between desire, banknotes, and a body in the first. For those in need of an inadequate translation, try this.

A la cajera, Sara Fomby

Por favor
Dame los pesos míos
Dame los besos tuyos

Tu apellido...
!Qué raro!

Por favor
Dame mi dinero
Dame tu cuerpo



El caballero callado

Te llamas Thomas
Todo lo que eres es caballero
Caballero callado
Mente aguda
Cara de acne

Hablas con las chicas que te respetan, y, quizás, te admiran también
Pero, me temo que a ti no te den sus amores

Lo siento mucho, Thomas

Caballero callado
Mente aguda
Cara de acne