Two of my favorite writers have new books out this summer:
Ana Castillo’s the Guardians is fiction, about a Mexican immigrant who goes missing between the borders.
Julia Alvarez’s Once Upon a Quinceanera is non-fiction, about the transformation of a Mexican ceremony into a huge American mega culture.
I have not yet read either but as writers I recommend both.
That’s all for now. It’s late and I just got back from the dance class, the “Legally Blonde on Broadway” dance class, which I joined on a whim after strength training. The choreography was based on bending and snapping, and a routine with jumpropes set to Taylor Dayne’s bodacious post-freestyle pop single “Tell It to My Heart.” I am nearly positive I danced to that when it was new, too, in my red sequined leotard and grotesque tan-tights that were glossed-up to liquid-shiny, and white ballet shoes and crimped hair and vaseline on our teeth so we wouldn’t stop smiling during performances, even though we were at like, Denver Nuggets arena or whatever, and everyone was too far away to see our teeth.
If you happen to watch the Taylor Dayne video, please note that all choreographed dances in 1987 ended with a dramatic and sassy stage-walk-off. I am sure there is some reason behind this nationwide movement but too tired to unravel it at this juncture. If you are reading this blog and you are too young to remember that: get your self familiar with my ill 5th grade repertoire.
Whatchyu call me?
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I may analyze relationships to death, but I think Taylor Dayne says it all….
“Tell it to my heart, tell me I’m the only one, is it really love or just a game.”
Do you know they play Dr. Phil here three times a day. And Rachael Ray. And Martha Stewart. The three shows that pretty much want to make me want to run into the middle of a Jordanian street, i.e. impending death.
I may analyze relationships to death, but I think Taylor Dayne says it all….
“Tell it to my heart, tell me I’m the only one, is it really love or just a game.”
Do you know they play Dr. Phil here three times a day. And Rachael Ray. And Martha Stewart. The three shows that pretty much want to make me want to run into the middle of a Jordanian street, i.e. impending death.
I’ve learned from Dr. Phil that addicts have acne and turn tricks for heroin, and that a lady in Flordia has 250 cats. and that a guy planned his wedding before tax season so he could claim his wife as a tax write off.