lunes, 26 de mayo de 2008
Summer of a Secret
Juan Carlos Rodríguez
“Trust in tranquility” – I tell Charles. It’s a secret that came to me out of nowhere – perched as we are on solid ground, on a plate of earth that lies as volatile as two men smoking after midnight. He’s just told me he does heroin. “The hard stuff.” He says those words, stroking his black Chilean hair, a string mop, with his hand. “Don’t judge it,” I say – “If you’re doing it why you gonna call it something.” It’s better to burn out is what the wise man told us, than it is to rust. Charles was named Charles, not Carlos because – he told us two weeks ago over beers at Churchill’s – his mother met Charles de Gaulle when she was pregnant with him. The French president touched her belly, placed his hand just layers of membrane from her son’s head. So they named Charles, my neighbor, Charles. CHAR–LES, is the proper pronunciation. He sits in the portal of his apartment unit across the courtyard from mine. He smokes and watches. Tonight, he told me, he borrowed five bucks from this chick, his roommate. He lives with at least two other people - the chick he bummed five bucks from and a fat Colombian guy in his thirties. There may be another tough big Colombiano, I’ve seen them returning from groceries. It seems unreal to me this living situation in a two or three bedroom apartment. Tonight I bum a smoke, lightly stoned, returning from a bike ride to bars and to glory. It’s a steamy night in our gated community. Charles and I smoke on the sidewalk under the security light. “This place is so quiet – too quiet” he repeats, looking out at the row of two story apartment houses across the street. Not one car. Not one loud drunken girl. Nobody but me. “I’m used to more action,” he says. “This scares me.” “Don’t be afraid,” I say. I speak in the voice of the devil. A reassurance borne of dancing with wild young beautiful girls in hotpants. Rooted in my viejo verde with an illuminated bike helmet on my head and in my hands the Vagabond Bar. Jack Keroauc is painted on the wall along with Henry David Thoreau. A quote I can’t remember as I write this. The devil’s voice from impossibly beautiful Sonya and her bleached girl, Lisette – both in hot pants, midrifts, high heels - surrounded by more and more beautiful girls coming and coming everywhere I turn. Modern Miami 20 year old girls. Trust in tranquility stoking slow flames. Wandering and laughing all the while. There’s a slow roast that begins this year in late May. Soon all we’ll know is the swelter of June and endless August. My friends the musicians save me. Marco, the Afro white percussionist who has been touring with Pitbull. Jesse Jackson entering Churchill's in spaghetti western fashion – arms akimbo like Clint Eastwood wrapped in a pink Palestinian scarf, and a tan polyester concoction. A vision among the visions, among the endless visions that transpire in the night this night.
Juan Carlos Rodríguez is a performer and a writer living in Miami.
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Cool story. Welcome Juan Carlos.
Juan Carlos, Enseguida me fui a buscar que bar era ese con tanta honda y mira lo que encontre. Tendremos que caerles:
Best New Bar (2008)
30 N.E. 14th St
Miami, FL 33132
Somewhere between lounge, bar, and club sits The Vagabond, a lovably comfy new hangout in the old I/O space on NE 14th St. This is a place with a mission statement unlike no other in town: Everybody is welcome here as long as they dance and have a good time. Just see the club's official slogan: "You are no one. You are every one." Rock kids can come in scruffy Converse sneakers; house heads can show up to jam without worrying about not having an asymmetrical haircut. That's because there's a vibe for everyone in this indoor/outdoor playground, from the mod-futuristic main room to the bohemian-styled front bar to the urban-tiki weirdness of the back patio. The soundtrack can be anything from a mix of cutting-edge dance sounds to throwback soul to garage rock to all of the above, depending on the hour of the evening and the mood of the crowd. Prices, too, are superrelaxed: Well drinks go for $6, a better deal than at the bar's downtown neighbors. Chilled-out and familiar but still fresh and funky, The Vagabond feels like ... well, home.
Yo querer opiniation pero como pueden ver, mi inglis is bery bad. Yo ser balserito culto...
Oye asereko, en el barcito ese de la 14, ponen musica de los VanVan? Ya estoy cansao del club Ache y quiero resfrescar.
Sin patria, sin tema que Juan Carlos habla spanglis.
Justiniani me recomendó esta página para mejorar el inglés y me ha servido.
Juan Carlos Rodriguez ha sido periodista de casi todos los biweekly de Miami. Lo conoci en el New Times y cualquier cosa que tocara, siempre admire su sabor poetico. Juan Carlos habla perfecto espanol, pero su fuerte es el ingles.
Juan Carlos: Por lo que puedo entender me gusta como describes el ambient de la noche en Miami.
Some Miami's places have an underground charm at night. Exciting and eccentric atmospheres with mix of funny ways. That nightlife style could be translate in a curatorial language. Recently, I talked about it to Mr. Portal. What do you think, AT? Edíteme sin pena, maestro, que estoy aprendiendo. Ah! y welcome, Juan Carlos, este es también tu gao!
Tumiami: I applaud your effort to reach out to our community. Congratulations Juan Carlos, I've enjoyed your "semblanza de Miami."
Ahora el tumiamiblog es en ingles y eso que por que?
Yo prefiero el espanol. pero como exiliado me toca aprender y asimilarme con un cursito intensivo.
Esta buena la trova Juan Carlos,
te escribe E.
Tom is a boy. Mary knows that.
E: tumiami es e "is".
Felicidades Juan Carlos.
Me que de botao con el post,no entendi ni papa.De todas formas gracias.
no quiero guataqueria en este blog con criticos de arte, curadoras o curadores de espacios, galeristas, etc. dejen eso para los openings. pero como ciudadano te este blog, me tomo el anarquismo de prohibirlo y al que no le guste, que tome malox.
patria o muerte, venceremos.
(si son muchos correremos)
lema revolucionario circa 1960's cuando quedaban algunos "gusanos" autenticos en cubita
que tiene todo esto que ver con el articulo de juan? nada. solamente porque me dio la gana.
Welcome to el barrio Juan Carlos.
Great prose. One that knows how to reach the music of great poetry:
"Tonight I bum a smoke, lightly stoned, returning from a bike ride to bars and to glory."
Adal, let me please update the motto:
Patria o Suerte... ya veremos!
qué linda la poesía del alma desolada
Adal,te deje una nota en el post de lo del Museo de Ft.Lauderdale.
Dime que piensas.
Yo siempre lo supe,Adal lleva en su alma la bayamesa..Y federada!
Juan Carlos: I really enjoyed your writing.
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