far too much writing, far too many photos Thursday, October 25, 2001 Man, simple health is such a rudimentary, wonderful thing. It's so nice to be able to walk the streets without feeling like death on two shaky feet, to be able to go into a restaurant for lunch, relaxed, breathing well. ~~~~~~~~~~~ Last Thursday night: hooked up with a couple of friends from Spanish class to see a show. The trip from here to the theatre is a nice 10-minute walk through narrow streets. As I made my way, a guy turned into one street behind me, walking quickly, approaching me from the rear. Being an especially narrow street with narrow sidewalks, the guy couldn't get around me until a car went by and the way was clear. As he appeared at my side, he looked over and said, "Conoces Copper?" ('Do you know Copper?') I glanced over, with no idea what that sentence meant. "Lo siento," I said, "¿qué?" "Conoces Copper?" Still clueless, I fell back on the old 'I'm a furriner' thing: "Lo siento, soy americano -- mi español es un poco limitado." He smiled, brandishing a card for me to take. I did, waiting for an explanation. "Es un club," he said. "Soy el dueño." ('It's a club, I'm the owner.') "Hay una fiesta esta noche, puedes venir si quieres." ('There's a party tonight, you can come if you want to.') "Ah, bueno," I said, looking from the card to him, then back to the card. "Gracias." "De nada," he said and took off. As he disappeared up the street, I scanned the card: the name COPPER in large metallic-appearing letters, above that an image of a crest -- drawn as if made of copper, natch -- consisting of a bear's head, seven stars in a relaxed V under it. Above the bear's head were the words BEARS & LEATHER BAR -- in English. (Bears??) The word 'LEATHER' was the first sign that this club might not be my kind of terrain. The other side of the card consisted of a small map of Chueca, the location of the bar highlighted, and printed above that: "Pub Copper -- Fiesta Leather -- Pasa Puerta." I'd been given a door pass to a leather party. If Madrid is the New York of Spain -- and it feels more like that to me than, say, the Washington, D.C. of Spain, despite being the capital -- then Chueca is the Greenwich Village of Madrid. Meaning leather parties are not so unusual in some corners of the neighborhood. To each their own. You choose what you like, let other people do the same. I didn't attend the leather shindig. I met my friends, went to the show, afterwards had a caña (a small glass of beer) and something to eat at a bar near the theatre. After a nice evening, I returned home with a great little story about my walk to the theater. *************** This past Sunday, El País had an article on le Moulin Rouge. A topical subject, given the film of that name in movie houses right now. And interesting, as it turns out. The nightspot, it appears -- a classically Parisian phenomenon -- was founded and started by a Spanish impresario, José Oller Roca. And in talking about the famous personalities that passed through the club -- Hemingway, Gertrude Stein, Scott Fitzgerald, blahblahblah -- attracted by various dancers and artists that appeared there, the author of the article writes: "Before that, Sigmund Freud and the King of Belgium had passed through the modest seats of the Moulin, the two interested by the performance of Josep Pujol, a Catalán who sang -- if you'll excuse me -- with his ass. Pujol had an extraordinarily dilatable anus, that could inhale and exhale air or water at will, composing strange symphonies with his peculiar wind instrument." Several cheap gags spring to mind here -- i.e., "Smoking or non-smoking?" "Er, is Pujol performing tonight?" "Yes, he is." "Ah, right. Non-smoking, please." -– but I think I'll skip 'em. rws 1:07 PM [+] BLATHERINGS August 2001 September 2001 October 2001 November 2001 December 2001 January 2002 February 2002 March 2002 April 2002 May 2002 June 2002 July 2002 August 2002 September 2002 October 2002 November 2002 December 2002 January 2003 February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 December 2003 January 2004 February 2004 March 2004 April 2004 May 2004 June 2004 July 2004 August 2004 September 2004 October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 February 2005 March 2005 April 2005 May 2005 June 2005 July 2005 August 2005 September 2005 October 2005 November 2005 December 2005 January 2006 February 2006 March 2006 April 2006 May 2006 June 2006 July 2006 August 2006 September 2006 October 2006 November 2006 December 2006 January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 April 2007 May 2007 June 2007 July 2007 August 2007 September 2007 October 2007 November 2007 December 2007 January 2008 February 2008 March 2008 April 2008 May 2008 June 2008 July 2008 August 2008 September 2008 October 2008 November 2008 December 2008 January 2009 February 2009 March 2009 April 2009 June 2009 July 2009 .  .  .  .  .  .  .  . MORE FOCUSED BLATHERINGS Travels: London '01 Pamplona Italy '03 U.K. '03 Sevilla Casablanca Stoke-on-Trent Barcelona Québec/Ottawa Boston/Lisbon/Madrid Italy '04 Montréal La Sierra Events: Madrid -- arrival 9/11 Emergency Room I Holidays 2001 Holidays 2002 Holidays 2003 Holidays 2004 Holidays 2005 A neighbor's passing Madrid -- March 11 bombings   and aftermath Emergency Room II Israeli friend/Madrid Marathon Madrid -- Royal Wedding The DELE exam GONE, a novel: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 THE BASTARD CHILDREN OF JOE ROCCO, a novella: -- Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 3 BURBANK SHRUGGED, a screenplay: -- Part 1 -- Part 2 -- Part 3 -- Part 4 Short stories: Murphy's Wife Another Autumn La Queja de Una   Hermanastra Muy Conocida Autobiography -- Personal History -- Hormones On Parade -- Accidents, Random Mishaps,     Personal Problems .  .  .  .  .  .  .  . OTHER SOURCES OF WHOLESOME ENTERTAINMENT People/Weblogs: dooce foxvox fudge it fear not rebekka bookslut 802online idle words madhaiku wockerjabby grow-a-brain rebel market letting me be out and about kung fu grippe fanatical apathy baghdad burning wfuv's music blog kexp's music blog mimi smartypants between the miles just a hippie gypsy the impossible cool tomato can brushes vermont homestead sugar mountain farm Good Clean Fun: gizmodo futurismic postsecret dave barry human clock mcsweeney's spaceweather book-a-minute internet archive self-portrait day my cat hates you out of context quotes surrealist compliment   generator strindberg and helium Makin' Musical Whoopee: last fm stereo8 pandora soma fm .  .  .  .  .  .  .  . ABOUT RWS/CONTACT This page and all its contents copyright © 2001-2011 by runswithscissors unless otherwise noted. runswithscissors would like to thank everyone who's ever lived for everything they've ever done. Syndicate This Site Blogarama BlogCatalog technorati profile www.flickr.com More of runswithscissors' photos