I love a fine Caribbean brother in a crisp, white guayabera. It’s pure poetry, really.
Tonight I saw The Pedrito Martinez Project, a Cuban music group, in Central Park as part of the Summer Stage series. The band is fronted by Pedrito Martinez (imagine that!) and many of its members hail directly from Habana. They were energetic and got the crowd on its feet dancing, even me.
Afterward they showed the 1963 USSR-produced film, I Am Cuba. The film, although very long and clearly a product of its time (it was all, Yay Fidel!), was quite beautiful. “Cuba” was the narrator, and voiced by a woman; she had some beautiful and heart-rending lines that I really wish I would have written down.
The cinematography was great as well. My favorite moment (for its sheer beauty and power) was after some student rebels got busted for making fliers about Fidel; one of them went to the balcony and yelled and threw fliers at the crowd below, until an officer shot him and he plummeted to the pavement. The following scene was incredible: You see the boy sprawled on the pavement from above, surrounded by the crowd of people and the fluttering shadows of the falling fliers. It was a damn long movie, but I’d say it was worth it.
I went alone. It was like taking myself out on a date: got a bite to eat, visited a museum (the Met), dancing, a movie (maybe I’ll try to get to first base!) I generally don’t have a problem being alone. (I prefer going to museums alone, so I can move through them at my own pace.) Sometimes, however, I stop myself from going to events if I have no one to go with; it’s kind of like having a security blanket. I decided I wasn’t going to let that get in the way anymore so I went out alone today. And it was nice. I need to take myself out on more dates. Maybe I should woo myself before anyone else does.