Saturday, April 29, 2006

Lycra Wonderland

In Penn Station there's a lot of Hudson bookstores, Annie's Pretzels, Subway, Pizza Hut, Nathan's hot-dogs and Krispy Kreme establishments... but my favorite store is ELEGANCE. I've never shopped there, but I just love to wander around and check out the assortment of tights and panty hoses they sell. I didn't know that a panty hose store was so essential to the modern commuter/traveler.

Fox piss and House Smarts

Now I know what it feels to wake up early (5:00AM) and COMMUTE for real.

1. F train from Church Av to Jay St. Borrough Hall
2. Transfer to A train in Borrough Hall and get off on Penn Station.
3. Rush to a New Jersey Transit machine to purchase a round trip to Waldwick, N.J.
4. Ride the train to Secacus Junction and transfer to the Main Bergen line.
5. Get off at Waldwick...

On Thursay and Friday I worked as a PA (I really need the cash) for Fort Productions. Colin recommended me with Bobby (the producer persé) to work for the House Smarts show.
The host's name is Lou Manfredini and show airs only in Chicago (channel 5). He is a local Chicago celeb that owns some hardware store and published two books "House Smarts" and "Kitchen Smarts", "Bath Smarts" and "Room Smarts". It was a long day, pushing and pulling the dolly.

In addition to that I learned that if you want to get rid of squirrels in your garden, you should by fox piss.

Wednesday, April 26, 2006

Apoyando el sonido Nacoyoacán

Unicornio Salvaje: Latin electronic beats, garage, mambos, pop, danzones, new wave, a go-go's, sonideras, and the latest music from Mexico.

Friday, May 5, 2006, 9 PM - 4 AM
Presenting directly from San Francisco: DJ's Julio Cesar Morales and Juan Kamanney (Club Unicornio), from Cholula Puebla, DJ Papichulo and openig the night: sonido Nacoyoacan.

FREE Event!

Salon de Alegría
170 Marcy Ave. (corner of Broadway)
Williamsburg, Brooklyn
J, M, Z to Marcy

Monday, April 24, 2006

1ero de Mayo and my feature reading

I started reading D.H. Lawrence's MORNINGS IN MEXICO/ETRUSCAN PLACES and the most appealing short story for me was El Mozo. I enjoyed it so much, that I personally copied/typed an excerpt of the story. This is great food for thought...

Rosalino really goes with the house, though he has been in service here only two months. When we went to look at the place, we saw him lurking in the patio, and glancing furtively under his brows. He is not one of the erect, bantam little Indians that stare with black, incomprehensible, but somewhat defiant stare. It may be Rosalino has a distant strain of other Indian blood, not zapotec. Or it may be he is only a bit different. The difference lies in a certain sensitiveness and aloneness, as if he were a mother's boy. The way he drops his head and looks sideways under his black lashes, apprehensive, apprehending, feeling his way, as it were. Not to the bold male glare of most of the Indians, who seem as if they had never, never had mothers at all.

The Aztec gods and goddesses are, as far as we have known anything about them, an unlovely and unlovable lot. In their myths there is no grace or charm, no poetry. Only this perpetual grudge, grudging, one god grudging another, the gods grudging men's existence, and men grudging the animals.The goddess of dirt and prostitution, a dirt-eater, a horror, without a touch of tenderness. If the god wants to make love to her, she has to sprawl down in front of him, blatant and accessible.

An then, after all, when she conceives and brings forth, what is it she produces? What is the infant-god she tenderly bears?Guess, all ye people, joyful and triumphant!

You never could.
It is a stone knife.

It is a razor-edged knife of blackish-green flint, the knife of all knives, the veritable Paraclete of knives. It is the sacrificial knife with which the priest makes a gash in his victim's breast, before he tears out the heart, to hold it smoking to the sun.

And the Sun, the Sun behind the sun, is supposed to suck the smoking heart greedily with insatiable appetite.

This, then, is a pretty Christmas Eve. Lo, the goddess is gone to bed, to bring forth her child. Lo! Ye people, await the birth of the savior, the wife of god is about to become a mother.

Tarumm-tarah! Tarumm-tarah! blow the trumpets. The child is born. Unto us a son is given. Bring forth, lay him on a tender cushion. Show him, then, to all the people. See! See! See him upon the cushion, tenderly new-born and reposing! Ah, qué bonito! Oh, what a nice, blackish, smooth, keen stone knife!

And to this day, most of the Mexican Indian women seem to bring forth knives. Look at them, these sons of incomprehensible mothers, withtheirr black little eyes like flints, and their stiff little bodies as taut and as keen as knives of obsidian. Take care they don't rip you up.

Our Rosalino is an exception. He drops his shoulders just a little. He is a bit bigger, also, than the average Indian down here. He must be about five feet four inches. And he hasn't got the big, obsidianglaring eyesss eyes are smaller, got the big, obsidian, glaring eyes. His eyes are smaller, blacker, like the quick black eyes of the lizard. They are just a bit aware that there is another being, unknown, at the other end of the glance.Hence he drops his head with a little apprehension, glance.Hence he drops his head with a little apprehension, screening himself as if he were vulnerable.

Usually, these people have no correspondence with one at all. To them a white man or white woman is sort of phenomenon:just as a monkey is sort of phenomenon: something to watch, and wonder at, and laugh at, but not to be taken on one's own plane.

Now the white man is sort of extraordinary white monkey that, by cunning, has learnt lots of semi-magical secrets of the universe, and made himself boss of the show. Imagine a race of big white monkeys got up in fantastic clothes, and able to kill a man by hissing at him ; able to leap through the air in great hops, covering a mile in each leap ;able to transmit his thoughts by a moment's effort of concentration to some grat white monkey or monkeyess, a thousand miles away: and you have, from our point of view, something of the picture that the Indian has of us.

The white monkey has curious tricks.He knows, for example, the time. Now to a Mexican, and an Indian, time is a vague, foggy reality. There are only three times: en la mañana, en la tarde, en la noche. in the morning, in the afternoon, in the night.There is even no midday, and no evening.

But to the white monkey, horrible to relate, there are exact spots of time, such as five o'clock, half past nine. The day is a horrible puzzle of exact spots of time.

The same with distance: horrible invisible distances called twoo miles, ten miles. To the Indians, there is near and far, and very near and very far. There is two days on one day. But two miles are as good as twenty to him, for he goes entirely by his feeling. If a certain two miles feels far to him, then it is far, it is muy lejos! But if a certain twenty miles feel near and familiar, then it is not far. Oh, no, it is just a little distane.And he will let you set off in the evening, for night to overtake you in the wilderness, without a qualm. It is not far.

But the white man has a horrible, truly horrible, monkey-like passion for exactitudes. Mañana , to the native, may mean tomorrow, three days hence, six months hence, and never. There are no fixed points in life, save birth, and death, and fiestas. The fixed points in life, save birth, and death, and the fiestas. From time immemorial priests fix the fiestas, the festivals of the gods, and men have had no more to do with time. What should men have to do with time?

The same with money. These centavos and these pesos, what do they mean, after all? Little discs that have no charm. The natives insist on reckoning in invisible coins, coins that don't exist here, like reales or pesetas. If you buy two eggs for a real, you have to pay twelve and a half centavos. Since also half a centavo doesn't exist , you or the vendor forfeit the non-existent.

The same with honesty, the meum and the tuum. The white man has a horrible way of remembering, even to a centavo, even to a thimbleful of mescal. Horrible! The Indian, it seems tome, is not naturally dishonest. He is not naturally avaricious,has not even any innate cupidity. In this he is unlike the old people of the Mediterranean, to whom possessions have a mystic meaning, and a silver coin a mystic white halo, a lueur of magic.

To the real Mexican, no! He doesn't care. He doesn't even like keeping money. His deep instinct is to spend it at once, so that he needn't have it. He doesn't really want to keep anything, not even his wife and children. Nothing that he has to be resonponsible for. Strip, strip, strip away the past and the future, leave the naked moment of the present disentangled. Strip away memory, strip away forethought and care: leave the moment, stark and sharp and without consciousness, like the obsidian knife. The before and the after are the stuff of consciousness. The instant moment is for ever keen with razon-edge of oblivion, like the knife of sacrifice.

But the great white monkey has got hold of the keys of the world, and the blackk-eyed Mexican has to serve the great white monkey, in order to live. He hhas to learn the tricks of the white monkey-show: time of the day, coin of money, machines that start at a second,work that is meaningless and yet is paid for with exactitude, in exact coin. A whole existence of monkey-tricks and monkey-virtues. The strange monkey-virtue of charity, the white monkeys nosing round to help, to save! Could any trick be more unnatural? Yet it is one of the tricks of the great white monkey.

If an Indian is poor, he says to another: I have no food: give me to eat. Then the other hands the hungry one a couple of tortillas. That is natural. But when the white monkey comes round, they peer at the house, at the woman, at the children. They say: Your child is sick. Si señor. Ehat have you done for it - Nothing. What is to be done? - You must make a pultice. I will show you how.

Well, it was very amusing, this making hot dough to dab on the baby. Like plastering a house with mud. But why do it twice? Twice is not amusing. The child will die. Well, then, it will be in Paradise. How nice for it! That's just what God wants of i, that it shall be cheerfull little angel among the roses of Paradise. What could be better?

How tedius of the white monkey coming with the trick of salavtion, to rub oil on the baby, and put poultices on it, and make you give it medicine in a spoon at morning, noon, and night. Why morning and noon and night? Why not just anytime, anywhen? It will die tomorrow if you don't do these things today! But tomorrow is another day, and it is not dead now, so if it dies at another time, it must be because the other times are out of hand.

Oh, the tedius, exacting white monkeys, with their yesterdays and todays and tomorrows! Tomorrow is always another day, and yesterday is part of the encircling never. Why think outside the moment? And inside the moment one does not think. So why pretend to think? It is one of the white monkey-tricks. He is a clever monkey. But he is ugly, in his nasty white flesh. We are not ugly, with screwed-up faces, and we have good warm-brown flesh. If we have to work for the white monkry, we don't care. His tricks are half amusing. And one may as well amuse oneself that way as any other. So long as one is amused.

La Ley Televisa

“Un país sin pluralidad de medios de comunicación sería como escuchar la misma canción todo el día”.


Cuando uno está ensimismado y solo piensa en sus problemas, no se percata de que en el mundo están sucediendo cosas que a uno le van a afectar. Hace dos meses mi madre me comentó que los legisladores de nuestro país estaban por pasar La Ley Televisa, sinembargo no me supo explicar de que se trataba y como yo estaba tan emocionada de estar en Monterrey y de verla, no me di a la tarea de indagar.

Hoy que es mi penúltimo día al servicio de Manhattan Neighborhood Networks, me acordé de la susodicha ley. MNN corre el riesgo de desaparecer debido a que los consorcios de Television por Cable quieren utilizar los canales públicos para transmitir su contenido. Esto quiere decir que se anulará la libre expresión de los ciudadanos de Manhattan y de muchas otras comunidades Estadounidenses. Es tal el riesgo que en cuatro días muchos de los productores emprenderán un viaje a Washington para manifestar su desacuerdo. A pesar de que esta comunidad ya está instruída en como utilizar medios alternos (podcasting, video blogging, blogs), muchos de ellos -de edad avanzada- se rehusan a utilizar los medios electrónicos. Algunos por que no tienen acceso a estos y otros por que ya están habituados a producir sin necesidad de programar.

Muchos de los blogs que leí sobre la Ley Televisa son instructivos e interesantes. La mayoría son escritos por comunicólogos o comunicadores. Esto significa que tienen acceso a los medios electrónicos, y es por eso que sugieren los medios alternativos. Sinembargo, parece que no tienen idea de las estadísticas. La gran mayoría del país no cuenta con la educación ni la infraestructura para estar comunicada vía electrónica.

Así que... consuelo de pocos, consuelo de tontos. Hay que pensar en otra manera de abolir o "modificar" dicha ley.

O tristemente (para sobrevivir) unirnos a ellos?

Esucha sobre "La Ley Televisa"

[PDF] El Beneficio Nacional en Contradiccion Y el Futuro de las ...
File Format: PDF/Adobe Acrobat - View as HTML
A Controversial Reform: ‘Ley Televisa’. December 2005. Arguments in Favour ... ‘Ley Televisa’. 2003: Satmex 6. Technological convergence. COFETEL autonomy ... -

Sunday, April 23, 2006


Do you have $861.97 to spare?

Procrastinator queen on a rainy day...

I would like to wear this dress on the day of my graduation.
surrealist dress

tiered chain necklace $42

fit cap top $88

marc by marc jacobs piper sweater

leather heart flip flop $34.00
foldover leather bag $88.00

heart bag $19.99
nautical $19.99
chain slip on bracelet $3.99

Saturday, April 22, 2006

Chic Korea

Monday, April 17, 2006

Easter Sunday

Lauren at dv 149 Ludlow st.
Great service. Lot's of dolce vita shoes... too bad there were no sizes for me and I ended up buying a pair of navy blue Keds.

Kim at Shop 105 Stanton St.I was their last costumer of the day. Kim wasn't thrilled when she saw me come in, nor did she conceal her wish to close the store. Still, she helped me out and when I asked her to pose, she was so flattered that she even called me sweetie.

Hairy Mary's 149 Orchard st. Carl Mateo... singing along Marylin Monroe's "Diamond's are a girls best friend". Cool reconstructed strapless dress from vintage fabrics. He even apologized "Sorry that I'm listening to Marylin. I love her!"

debraRodman 49 Prince Street
Her loveley Pinafore Dress is sureley available, but when I checked out the sizes and measures of the garments I felt left out. So as I was walking out I made eye contact with Rodman and touching my tummy said "I need to diet!" and she replied with a smile "No, you are fine! Just go to another store."
Weird. Im just size 6.

Sunday, April 16, 2006

Sweet Pussy

Vintage Store, LES

Somewhere over the rainbow?

Tower Records (Village)

Saturday, April 15, 2006


Cocky like a rooster: Drunky Brewster!

Weapons of Mass Destruction, put it in you!Calisha Jenkins and Fabrisha Dankins are la creme d' la creme of Modern Burlesque. This duet of drunken girlfriends did put it in us at Union Pool. Their secret show was a huge success.

Take me out

Alex Kapranos (lead vocals and guitar)
Bob Hardy (bass)
Nick McCarthy (guitar and backing vocals) and Alex Kapranos
Paul Thompson (drums)

The secret Franz Ferdinand show at The Hammerstein Ballroom sponsored by MySpace was a success. What a great time to spend my lunch time hour!

Tuesday, April 11, 2006


"Your faces are the faces of those who give us a fair day's work - and often not for a fair's day pay"

- Hillary Rodham Clinton's speech during Immigration rights rally in N.Y.

Sunday, April 09, 2006

Los Bolos

Port Authority, New York

More Than a Ride

Saturday, April 08, 2006


There's lots of stuff I would love to buy for spring, but right now, I have in mind a couple of things. During my trip to Mexico, I bought Celeste magazine and spotted a cute pair of Melissa flats from the Love Robots Collection.

The other thing I would love to get is a pair of Miu Miu sunglasses. They look so good on Selma Blair that I'm inspired to lose weight. Isn't it amazing what media does to me? How would I look if I lived in a media free environment. No magazines, no internet, no TV, no ads, no stores, no brands... no mediated identities.

Sondre, Sondre, Sondre

While reading the L Magazine I found out that Sondre Lerche was having a show at the Bowery Ballroom. I really wanted to go, but since I read about it three days before the event, the tickets were sold out and I was not going to pay more than $20 to see him. I didn't go, but I still saw him the day before. After my Wedensday class, I was heading Uptown to go bowling at Port Authority. When I reached 42nd street (Times Square) I walked underground to get to Port A. Who do I see walking like any other New Yorker? Sondre Lerche and his girl Mona. I was about to stop him to say hello, but then I decided to let him be... and then I thought that New York was a wonderful place where simple humans like me co-exist with successful and creative humans like that young man. Nevertheless, yesterday night, instead of checking his show, I heard his new CD. Josh picked it up at The Big Takeover to review and as soon as he's done, I will get to own it.

This is an aditional review I found in Jane (I love the magazine)

Walking around New York City with Sondre Lerche and the Faces Down Quartet's album Duper Sessions cycling endlessly through my headphones, I couldn't help but imagine myself a character in a slightly wonky Woody Allen film. Theirrendition of the notoriously impossible-to-sing Cole Porter standard "Night and Day" sounds both jazzy and bare. And the original "Minor Detail", a sultry,smoky guitar-and-piano lovefest, has a lazy drumbeat that my heart sings along to. It's enough to make me want to name my firtsborn son Sondre. - Brekke

Code Unknown/Been Rich all my life

CODE UNKNOWN/Michael Haneke
France, 2000, 118 min

German-born filmmaker Michael Haneke continues the bleak, formalist experimentation of his 1994 breakthrough 71 Fragments of a Chronology of Chance with this similarly fragmented tale of racism, intolerance, and hatred in modern-day Paris. The focus of the narrative is split between three sets of people: the French actress Anne (Juliette Binoche), her husband and in-laws; a Romanian woman, Maria (Luminita Gheorghiu), who struggles to raise money for her family back home; and Amadou (Ona Lu Yenke), a teacher for the deaf who is at odds with his resolute African clan. The catalyst for the stories begins on a streetcorner, where Anne's brother-in-law Jean (Alexandre Hamadi) insults Maria, who is begging for change; incensed, Amadou picks a fight with Jean, resulting in negative repercussions for the triptych of protagonists. Throughout, Haneke punctuates the action with his unique editing and use of sound. After its Cannes debut, Code Inconnu made its North American premiere at the 2000 Toronto International Film Festival. ~ Michael Hastings, All Movie Guide

I really enjoyed this film -- lots of food for thought.

USA,2005, 81 min.

The Silver Belles are one of America's most unusual and inspiring dance troupes. Comprised of five women between the ages of 84 and 96, The Silver Belles are veteran tap dancers and chorus girls who first got to know one another when they performed in some of New York's hottest nightspots during the Harlem Renaissance of the '30s, sharing stages with the likes of Duke Ellington, Cab Calloway, and Jimmie Lunceford. The dancers -- Bertye Lou Wood, Cleo Hayes, Elaine Ellis, Fay Ray, and Marion Coles -- toured the country with different shows and entertained American troops in Europe during World War II, but when Big Band jazz fell out of favor and nightclubs stopped using chorus dancers, most of the women took up other work. But the women stayed friends, and in 1985 the retired hoofers decided to put their tap shoes back on. With the help of their manager and friend Geri Kennedy, they've been performing regularly for over a decade, keeping the traditions of jazz dancing alive and challenging stereotypes about the elderly. Been Rich All My Life is a documentary which looks at the illustrious past and surprising present of The Silver Belles, and offers a glimpse at these five remarkable women as they share their love for dance and confront the challenges that still face them. ~ Mark Deming, All Movie Guide

I cried during this movie. Nobody noticed cause I sat on the first row but as soon as the film was over I ran to the bathroom and sobbed like a teenager. I was so excited to see these women perform. Will I be able to be so joyous and full of life at 93? I think I will -- my grandma is already 80 and she's still cooking for my spoiled brother. Anyway, we had a Q & A after the screening. The director used to be a New School Student. I hogged the floor till the instructor got pissed and stopped me. I felt like James Lipton.

Friday, April 07, 2006

New Directors/New Films

I didn't have the chance to see many of the 34 films of New Directors/New Films series at Film Society and Moma. I had been away for most of the series and the day I came back, I sacrificed the Man Push Cart (by Ramin Bahrani screening for a combo plate at Zaytoons. Nevertheless, the next day I did attend to the closing party at Josephinas. What a wonderful evening! Genevieve Villaflor sure knows how to organize events. Brett and I hung out with my friend Javier Andrade (who directed Pia)

To make a long story short...
I did see:

/ Perry Ogden
IRELAND, 2005, 87 MIN

13 TZAMETI / Gela Babluani
FRANCE, 2005, 93 MIN

USA, 2006, 93 MIN

and my favorite was 13 Tzameti
An extraordinarily assured debut feature, 13 Tzameti won the top prize at Sundance. Owed money, and lacking any direction in life, Sébastien decides to take the place of a dead man on a mysterious mission. Sébastien doesn't know what the man did, but he does know that it was awfully lucrative. Thus begins his journey towards a contemporary vision of hell, a world in which anything, even one's life, is a commodity to be bought, sold, or wagered on. With several extraordinary scenes not for the faint-hearted, 13 Tzameti is less shocking for what it shows than for its portrait of the amoral world it so convincingly captures. Son of a major Georgian director, Gela Babluani is a talent to watch.

Before going to the Walter Reade to catch these films, I had my first experience with an epileptic. While I was talking with my roommate Peter, he had a seizure. He fell on his back and hit his head on the wall-heater, twitching like a fish gasping for air. We didn't know what to do. I called Brett and he called Josh. We were all unsure, so Brett sat down and googled the word SEIZURE to get instructions on how to deal with it. Josh laid down on the couch and looked at the ceiling. Brett reported there was nothing we could do but put a pillow under his head... so he did and then opened up The Economist magazine. I turned back and kept on washing the dishes and Peter was still moving. Time passed by so bizarrely slowly.

Anyway, 13 Tzameti reminded me of the shorts that my french classmate had done over the past semesters. His name is Rafael Israel. Remember that one because I am pretty sure he will be showing his films soon.