There are many people willing to tell you what tango is. Listen to them all. Don't believe any of them. Then, when you're full and you have sifted through it, weighed the contradictions, tested the theories, decide for yourself. Better yet, stay with the question.Tango, like love and God, should remain a mystery.
Added by Maraya Loza Koxahn on May 31, 2008 at 10:18am —
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Seems like a really nice community and I love the photo Idea.
I am involved in website development and digital imaging as a business providing access to great equip. makes the photo thing much easier. I also write persuasive copy mostly for the web now, but have done hundreds of 30-60 sec radio spots, and some TV coms. as well. So my goal is to become a better all around writer and learn from all you seasoned vets just how to do that ;~) I guess you need a goal right? I really don't know…
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Added by Phil Stewart on May 31, 2008 at 10:05am —
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Starbucks understands the human weakness for comfort. The combination of addictive substances – caffeine, sugar and dairy (and delightful flavored chemicals) – cold in the summer, hot in the winter – has awarded them with the international monopoly in take-out coffee. There's no need to poison the water to control the masses.
My 'left wing' - disappointed, old and broken - will continue to find solace in tiny cups of coffee, accompanied by tiny glasses of water and itsy bitsy cookies…
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Added by Maraya Loza Koxahn on May 30, 2008 at 8:19pm —
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Out-numbered....six to one....not the best of odds. What happens when it's full-time....in one house....one family.....one unit? Oh lord! Wrestling matches, baseball games, rock climbing (hell...counter climbing), yard football, sci-fi movies, action....always action, races....to the bathroom, bedroom, dining table, kitchen, out the door....I am so out-numbered here! It's all about cars and trucks, bats and balls, yells instead of whispers, hide and seek in the dark, scratched knees,…
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Added by Michelle Davis on May 30, 2008 at 3:27pm —
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I haven't posted anything here for a while and the only reason I am doing this now is because none of my close friends look on this site and I need to get some stuff out of my system but I don't really know where to put it.
I just wrote the hardest thing I have ever written in my life. It was a letter to my opa. He's my dutch grandfather. The last grandfather I have left and the only one I ever knew because bowel cancer took my father's father away before even he was finished needing…
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Added by Oceana Setaysha on May 30, 2008 at 9:53am —
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Only 120 more pages to edit. Revise. Polish. Finish.
Almost there. I kinda feel like Ben running his beloved Boston marathon, just substitute words for distance...
Every millimeter of me aches, the constant concentrating fries my mind. I remind myself I’ve run this fucking hill a million times, it’s not steep so much as persistent, a half-mile of steady incline. I breathe - in, out, in, out - four paces for each inhale, cresting Heartbreak Hill in a spurt of… Continue
Added by Linda on May 29, 2008 at 1:33pm —
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I think that the thermal travel mug is North America's contemporary version of the baked potato of horse and buggy days. On a day like today I want to wrap my fingers around something insulating a hot beverage and slowly sip its comforting contents. Perfect timing for the opening of the first Starbucks in Argentina.
Having been a health conscious radical I believed that I would only ever support local independent business owners. But, when my daughter got a job at Starbucks in…
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Added by Maraya Loza Koxahn on May 29, 2008 at 11:54am —
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might just be - if we're really lucky and the wind is blowing from the right direction and we say our prayers - the beginning of ending our time in this town. No kidding! Tomorrow morning at 10:30 sharp, my husband is interviewing for a new job. A job he really wants. And if he gets it, we get to move. Well, we'll be moving no matter what because we just can't live here anymore. It would be nice if we moved for a new job, and not move to live with relatives while we look for new jobs. It still…
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Added by Lisa Miller on May 28, 2008 at 9:14pm —
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Writing, for me, has become the one thing that is purely mine and has consistently been a huge part of my life. As a child, I scribbled....anything, marks on a page before I knew how to form letters, letters before I knew how to form words, words before sentences, and sentences before I knew how to piece them together into complete thoughts.
I have always had a pen in hand, though until recently in my life, I never considered myself a "writer". I simply wrote. Usually my writing…
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Added by Michelle Davis on May 28, 2008 at 8:36pm —
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Like driven snow, we tumble by so many others on our way where? Time is not the enemy, our perception of time is. While my days are numbered, I know not the number, nor do I care, for that secret I could not share. Could I but linger here for a bit longer and know how your life would be with out me? "Sure", you say, "stay as long as you can." With a sardonic smile I wave and think as one flake to another "happy sublimation", and how did I get here and which way does that wind blow?
Added by Phil Stewart on May 28, 2008 at 7:56pm —
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Wow.....I am so excited to have found yet another place to put my musings. I am such an addict....I swear! The therapy in the pounding of the keys is priceless though.....and THANK GOD.....there is no price tag to be put on it....because I would instead be forced to wallow in the misery of life without being able to get it out of my system. Ok, maybe that's not true....I'd be force to write things down in journals.....the therapy of my youth. LOL Yes, this is going to be an awesome thing!…
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Added by Michelle Davis on May 28, 2008 at 3:10pm —
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At 1800 hours the bell tolls and the gate to La Ciudad De Los Muertos is closed. They lock up the dead. They put chains and padlocks on the door to each eternal home – to keep ... someone ... from getting out – or getting in. Buried in compartments, surrounded by apartments – the dead are discontent. In this city within a city there is little peace when the living come to ogle as if at a zoo. So, the question that I have is 'who is watching whom?'
Added by Maraya Loza Koxahn on May 28, 2008 at 1:36pm —
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It is like this every time I change the sheets. Sleep sneaks softly down from the bed and warms my feet as I pull apart the button seams of the duvet.
I shuck pillows, sending pillowcases and covers flapping over my shoulder. And where they’ve crumpled to the floor, sleep crawls from their hallows to tighten around me like a vine.
And between the mountain veins of the duvet and the tawny pillows the unused and unspent armies of lost sleep launch against my body with…
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Added by Matthew on May 28, 2008 at 12:30am —
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Hay no ciudad sin poesia states the government sponsored sign in the Subte. I see that poetry in the narrow streets still echoing horses hooves and uneven rhyme in the sidewalk blocks cracked and broken, heaving from overgrown trees. There is an uncomfortable dissonance as car horn musicians attempt to part traffic with their insistence and a resonant beat of the people marching and clanging pots to protest the rising of taxes. I see poetry in the juxtaposition of architecture from a…
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Added by Maraya Loza Koxahn on May 27, 2008 at 5:00pm —
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After seven years the final veil is lifted. Each has revealed a sin to be grappled with until there is nothing left but nakedness. They are tired – and itchy. He picks her up from the base of her pedestal, rubbing the fog from his eyes until he really sees her. Surprised, he says, “you've changed”. After many years of disappointment, she turns to look at him and replies, “you haven't”.
Added by Maraya Loza Koxahn on May 26, 2008 at 9:26am —
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My first experience of take-out coffee in Buenos Aires was seeing a waiter bustle down the sidewalk with a covered tray containing two ceramic cups and saucers. There is a fine sophistication in this country where people take time, either alone, or with companions, to relax and enjoy a fine cuppajo in a confiteria - a cafe. It's not a cheap addiction – it's a way of life. Two years later I heard that Starbucks was determined to infiltrate Argentina with its over the counter, assembly line,…
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Added by Maraya Loza Koxahn on May 25, 2008 at 12:30pm —
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My wife is absolutely convinced that this is how I make decisions--and I can't say she's wrong, either...

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graph humor and song chart memes
Added by Don P on May 25, 2008 at 8:30am —
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I thought I was rid of her. Afterall, winter was closing in on Buenos Aires and I was living in the middle of the concrete jungle, seven floors above the street, in an anonymous building. Accustomed to the constant clamorous street sounds I left the window open just a crack to allow for a little of that 'good air' to flow through my tiny apartment. Last night, I twisted up a lather in my sheets trying to escape her tortuous high-pitched whining. I averted her assault by hiding undercover until,…
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Added by Maraya Loza Koxahn on May 23, 2008 at 11:38am —
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One thousand and one pictures can never near the worth of one word. A word that has kept us curious for more years than any of us care to count. It has inspired poetry and song, art and dance, gardens and architecture – spaces in which to worship its omnipresence. It has inspired inconceivable torture, death and destruction. One thousand and one pictures could never capture, could never express, the depth and breadth, the magnitude and magnificence of so few letters. In the beginning was the…
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Added by Maraya Loza Koxahn on May 22, 2008 at 2:03pm —
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Friday night was a real doozy, remember my super crazy nosy neighbor? I had picked up some fresh salmon and prawns at the market along with some asparagus and a gorgeous huge red bell pepper because the day was a rare sunny supreme Northwest kind of day and it seemed only right to grill on the deck and enjoy it, every moment of it. My mother had other plans so slightly dejected I decided to do it anyway and called my good, lovely not nosy neighbor 2 houses up to join me after the kids went to…
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Added by Mom Ofthree on May 22, 2008 at 11:03am —
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