O Captain! My Captain!, Beginner open house, promenade milonga in color, no class May 24th, SMITH weekend and other updates

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Moti Buchboot

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Apr 29, 2012, 12:19:16 PM4/29/12
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Hello Friends.

Beginner Open house  May 1st in Santa Monica, May 3rd in Hermosa beach.
 
For Intermediate students if you have not taken classes with Moti in the past first class free. 
 
See link for more information http://organictango.info/laclasses.htm
 
No class on Thursday the 24th of May in Hermosa Beach.
 
Promenade milonga in Color May 6th -red , May 13th-Green.
 
SMITH tango festival is coming next week
 
See link for more information  http://www.santamonicatangofestival.com/
 
alongside Emmet  I'll be in charge of the Friday May 4th afternoon Free beach milonga 1-5pm on the beach north of the Santa Monica pier.
 
I'll also be teaching a class at the beginner bootcamp on Sunday.
 
 
 
Today Sunday the 29th I'll be Downtown Los Angeles in my Tuxedo for Dapper day and dancing  to the music of
Los Angeles del Tango ensemble. They will be playing live tango music at the base of the Angels Flight funicular at 351 South Hill Street. 3:30-5pm
 
Later today I'll be at the Modern music milonga in Mar vista.
 
See you around
 
Moti
 
 

O Captain! My Captain!

by Walt Whitman

1

O CAPTAIN! my Captain! our fearful trip is done;
The ship has weather'd every rack, the prize we sought is won;
The port is near, the bells I hear, the people all exulting,
While follow eyes the steady keel, the vessel grim and daring:
But O heart! heart! heart!
O the bleeding drops of red,
Where on the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

2

O Captain! my Captain! rise up and hear the bells;
Rise up-for you the flag is flung-for you the bugle trills;
For you bouquets and ribbon'd wreaths-for you the shores a-crowding;
For you they call, the swaying mass, their eager faces turning;
Here Captain! dear father!
This arm beneath your head;
It is some dream that on the deck,
You've fallen cold and dead.

3

My Captain does not answer, his lips are pale and still;
My father does not feel my arm, he has no pulse nor will;
The ship is anchor'd safe and sound, its voyage closed and done;
From fearful trip, the victor ship, comes in with object won;
Exult, O shores, and ring, O bells!
But I, with mournful tread,
Walk the deck my Captain lies,
Fallen cold and dead.

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