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The International Writers Magazine: Live to Dance

Besame Mucho
• Dean Borok
Dancers are the ultimate snobs. She may work in an office or sorting mail all day, but on the dancefloor she is a star, and what the hell are you? Nevertheless you are expected to lead. You got to exercise leadership and direct her where she wants to go, otherwise she will leave you in her dust.

Dancing Dean

What is more serious than dancing? Tell me. It’s a most basic element of life, attracting mates as well as repelling enemies. A flock of pink flamingos dancing their intricate line dance expresses all the dignified grace of the Court of Versailles and all the joyful sensuality of Salsa Night at the Palladium.

What difference between us and the birds? They plume out their feathers to display exotic designs. The male tries to impress the female with his cool nest. He showers her with attention and brings her gifts of food.

I like to dance with big girls that I can throw around the dance floor, and they dig it too. It makes them feel like junior-petites to be manhandled by a strong guy. But you can’t move them along too fast because they like to show off their moves, of which they are very proud. “Don’t rush me!” And watch out if they have been drinking. More than once I have had to grab hold of a rampaging girl before she went careening into a table full of drinks.

Latin Music stimulates a sartorial outlook on life, at least in me. I don’t mind modeling myself after Carlos Gardel, the Argentine drop-dead tango singer who drove the women insane in the 1930’s. When I put on a fedora hat I fancy that I look like him a little bit. If I had the coin, I would fly down to Houston or Monterrey MX and get some of those Mexican suits that all the cool dudes wear in the télénovelas.

Al Pacino’s “Scarface” had a big fashion impact on me too. Anything Afro-Cuban works just fine. I got enough loud shirts and Panama hats. I need more chains and gold rings before I can think about making my grand entrance into Havana, Cuba. Try to imagine: drinking rum, smoking weed and dancing Salsa and Bachata all night at a beach café, and then cruising the Malécon with a bottle of Champagne and a gang of girls in a 1955 Buick convertible. ¡Viva la Revolución!
© Dean Borok Jan 2015

Latin Dancing Across 110th Street
Dean Borok

I have asserted all along that New Yorkers should be compelled to attend charm school, so I decided to take my own advice. The place I chose, the Lorenz Latin Dance Studio, is located in Spanish Harlem
Still Dancin'
Dean Borok

Anybody who wants to get a thumbnail of the changing demographic of American society would do well to take a ride uptown to the Lorenz Latin Dance Studio on 110th Street
El Watusi
Dean Borok

I finally figured out a system for keeping my feet moving at Lorenz Latin Dance Studio’s Friday night dance party. I stuff live M-80 firecrackers into my shoes and light the fuse.

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