Friday, June 17, 2005
Hate Turkish Parties
I used to hate all those lewd Turkish parties in New York where girls dance like nymphs in the woods surrounded with their Turkish satyrs. Mind you, Turkish girls are such graceful and sexy dancers, and they are so amazingly natural in this element. Every time I stood on the side with PB (who I only saw dancing once in a Miami retro bar and that was not the type of experience after which you want to take your boy right there around the corner behind the bar or in the tiny bathroom of the night club, rather you wait for a few days to have the memory erased from your adoring brain), sheepishly peeking at the girls and thinking ‘if only I had a little Gypsy blood in me, I could master my courage and have trust in my dancing feet’. Well, I am no dancer, never was a good one, but being so intellectual and computer-bound made me believe that dancing is the most exquisite skill all women possess. Except me. Yet, being PB-less at my last New York Turkish bash broke the ice finally and I was rescued from my nun-status by our own philosopher-sociologist Emrah (how can anyone be this bright AND play in a band AND be an activist??).
This all came to me when nice pal Erika took me to belly dancing a few weeks ago and it was fun fun fun. I kept thinking: a little practice and a little (or a lot of?) baby fat and I’ll be able to stand my ground with those NYC Turkish nymphs. My awe for Middle Eastern dancing just deepened when I was charmed by a dance-music-poetry show where our Gypsy singer friend sang, Lorca poems were recited and Nieto Mercedes and her friends were dancing so amazingly, as if in a dream, like reeds in the wind, sometimes spurred by a storm and sometimes crushed by eternal sadness. Check her out at www.nietomerecedes.com Oriental dancing is so passionate, deep, sensual, a totally different world from being a goddam PhD student. I learn from friends that dancing may be a way back to femininity, something you lose amongst all the nerve-racking mind work at school.
Who knows, one day I may become a Turkish nymph myself.
This all came to me when nice pal Erika took me to belly dancing a few weeks ago and it was fun fun fun. I kept thinking: a little practice and a little (or a lot of?) baby fat and I’ll be able to stand my ground with those NYC Turkish nymphs. My awe for Middle Eastern dancing just deepened when I was charmed by a dance-music-poetry show where our Gypsy singer friend sang, Lorca poems were recited and Nieto Mercedes and her friends were dancing so amazingly, as if in a dream, like reeds in the wind, sometimes spurred by a storm and sometimes crushed by eternal sadness. Check her out at www.nietomerecedes.com Oriental dancing is so passionate, deep, sensual, a totally different world from being a goddam PhD student. I learn from friends that dancing may be a way back to femininity, something you lose amongst all the nerve-racking mind work at school.
Who knows, one day I may become a Turkish nymph myself.
