First I had to drive through that raging thunderstorm to get to the Visual Arts Center and then make my way through ankle-deep rushing streams of water overtaking the curb to get from the car to the safety of the building.
I did both for the sake of a poetry reading which couldn't start until after the rain ceased beating noisily on the roof. There was a surprisingly good crowd in the room for the latest installment of the Fresh Ink literary series; poetry lovers are not afraid of a little cataclysmic weather it would seem.
Tara Bray led off with her lyrical poetry focused on nature and bird life (chickadees, starling, pelicans), transitioning from that to her next subject by saying, "I like birds and I like avocados."
Poet Bill Notter, standing against a side wall, missed his cue to go to the podium, asking, "Have I been introduced already?" as he approached it (he had, along with a story about how he'd spent a summer digging post holes on John Grisham's estate. "Is that awful for a poet or what?").
A reference to public phones in "Breakfast at the Roadrunner Cafe" resulted in him acknowledging, "This was back in the days of pay phones." Wow, this was ancient poetry.
His work evoked many locations because of the assortment of places he'd lived ("Parchman Farm," also known as the Mississippi State Penitentiary) or traveled to ("California Pasture").
Rounding out the reading was Jehanne Dubrow, whose poetry focused on female voices and experiences and domestic life. References to food (beets, potatoes, onions) and being a wife ran throughout.
One of the loveliest poems was about the elegant embassy parties her parents attended as members of the Foreign Service, with descriptions of clothing and the aura of excitement that surrounded their leaving. "His hand rested on the small secret of her back..."
I followed poetry with a girls' night in party at the home of a local restaurateur. It was fun because I knew only her and one other person, so I got to meet some interesting new women, including a neighbor who lives barely two blocks from me. How have we missed each other?
The food was an eclectic feast with quite a sampler from Kobe, two kinds of hummus and pistachio baklava (and I thought I didn't like baklava; this was sublime) from Mediterranean Bakery, cheeses from Urban Farmhouse and a host of other homemade taste delights (stuffed mushrooms, roasted asparagus, guacamole, crab dip) to ensure that we had something to mitigate the effects of so much much excellent wine.
We repaired to the man cave in the basement and the girl talk flowed right along with the wine. The only problem with a roomful of women is that I can't join in on a lot of the discussions. Tonight that included Short Pump mall, the pleasures of jewelry, shopping for clothes and TV favorites.
I did fine on discussions of city living, biking (and the need for a helmet) and dog walking, though. I'm always the first to acknowledge that I'm a poor representation of my sex and actually, I'm fine with that.
After the party, I wandered down the street to Gallery 5 for music, specifically to hear Chapel Hill's Embarrassing Fruit. Great name aside, I had checked them out online and really liked what I'd heard. They billed themselves as indie Italian pop, whatever the hell that meant (and I meant to find out).
Occupying audience space was the usual assorted musician crowd (more smilers than usual), in addition to mere fans like me. One talented musician spotted me and said, "You're at every show...or at least the ones I'm at. We must like the same music." You mean new and good?
It's always fun to watch drummers study the drummer and guitarists study the guitarists. Those guys got a special treat tonight because one of the Fruit's guitarists had a double neck (6 and 12-string), not an instrument you see out often and apparently of interest to everyone.
Standing with both a guitarist and a drummer, the three of us came up with comparisons to Guided By Voices and a Southern Weezer because of the great guitar sound and melodic vocals. I particularly liked the bass lines, but that's a personal preference. All in all, it was a thoroughly enjoyable set and I hope these guys come back through town again.
They don't have to bring another epic thunderstorm back with them, but they do have to bring that doubleneck. I love watching guitar geeks gawk.
It's practically poetry to a mere music-lover like me.
Showing posts with label tara bray. Show all posts
Showing posts with label tara bray. Show all posts
Friday, March 11, 2011
Saturday, April 24, 2010
Pie and Poetry
A sweet friend had e-mailed me at 3 a.m. this morning saying he was saddened to read about the loss of my beagle and suggesting we do something fun together today. As someone who had walked the beagle with me on more than a few occasions, he knew I might be low so I appreciated the gesture.
We ended up at Pie because I'd been craving pizza all week and 8 1/2 is still closed from the fire damage they experienced. He'd never been to Pie so he wanted to experience the pizza for himself after the two scathing local reviews the place had gotten.
They have a $5 lunch menu from 11-4, with salads, sandwiches and wraps on it, so we started with a chopped Greek salad which was easily large enough to split and satisfy us both. The ingredients were fresh, the feta plentiful and we felt more virtuous for having begun with greens.
We chose the Cured Meat pizza (with Soprasetta), thus taking care of my desire for white pizza and the male need for meat. It was quite good with garlic, Fontina and Mozzarella and the desired pig product. Friend commented on how much he likes a thin, cracker-like crust which this was. We managed to down all but two slices.
Afterwards, he wanted to go down to the river to see the heron rookery I'd been so enthralled with, here, but the trees had leafed out so much in the past four weeks that we were barely able to see three of the 45 nests. Of course, any excuse to do the Pipeline walkway is a good one. We did see plenty of bird life while we were there, though.
Bird-watching turned out to be the ideal activity to segue into my next activity, an author reading at Chop Suey Books. Scheduled to read first was Tara Bray, a poet with frequent references to birds in her poetry, but it was one of her students who unexpectedly got the ball rolling.
As we waited for the reading to start, someone noted that what we needed was a slam poet to kick things off. Funny that, there was one in the audience and he volunteered to do one of his favorite pieces, written on paper after years of using a computer to create his poetry. It was entitled Soul at Sunrise and was riveting, a commentary on life filled with alliteration, wordplay and rhyme. Like the audience, I could not believe our fortune in hearing such a strong piece from a completely unexpected source.
Acknowledging her fondness for winged creatures, Bray's poetry contained references to starlings, juncos, blue jays, crows and the kingfisher, which she referred to a " a poem kind of a bird." One poem about pelicans contained the visually evocative line, "They float on the water's tension." She did have non-avian poetry, including a poignant piece about her mother's death when she was a child and one she considered a tribute to her three brothers.
She was followed by her husband, poet Bill Notter who sheepishly admitted he had not one single poem about his lovely wife, although he did have one bird poem. He had poems written during the time he lived in Mississippi ("I guess to say rural Mississippi is redundant.") as well as his birth state, Colorado ("I grew up in Colorado, but the flat part. But I knew about mountains.").
Of living in Nebraska, he wrote that it had "more space than anyone can stand until he leaves." I can't attest to that feeling, but I understood what he was trying to say. Likewise his line about a life well-lived which began with, "If I got run over by a sugar beet truck tonight..." evoked a world with which I personally have no familiarity, but became conceivable with his choice of words. Somehow, I don't think being run over by a UPS truck would have quite the same impact on reading or hearing.
The reading was SRO, an unusual occurrence I can say with certainty since I attend so many of them. It was soul satisfying to see so many people in a poetic frame of mind on a Saturday afternoon.
Obviously I wasn't the only one who needed beautiful words to improve this particular day. How lucky for me that they were just waiting to be heard.
We ended up at Pie because I'd been craving pizza all week and 8 1/2 is still closed from the fire damage they experienced. He'd never been to Pie so he wanted to experience the pizza for himself after the two scathing local reviews the place had gotten.
They have a $5 lunch menu from 11-4, with salads, sandwiches and wraps on it, so we started with a chopped Greek salad which was easily large enough to split and satisfy us both. The ingredients were fresh, the feta plentiful and we felt more virtuous for having begun with greens.
We chose the Cured Meat pizza (with Soprasetta), thus taking care of my desire for white pizza and the male need for meat. It was quite good with garlic, Fontina and Mozzarella and the desired pig product. Friend commented on how much he likes a thin, cracker-like crust which this was. We managed to down all but two slices.
Afterwards, he wanted to go down to the river to see the heron rookery I'd been so enthralled with, here, but the trees had leafed out so much in the past four weeks that we were barely able to see three of the 45 nests. Of course, any excuse to do the Pipeline walkway is a good one. We did see plenty of bird life while we were there, though.
Bird-watching turned out to be the ideal activity to segue into my next activity, an author reading at Chop Suey Books. Scheduled to read first was Tara Bray, a poet with frequent references to birds in her poetry, but it was one of her students who unexpectedly got the ball rolling.
As we waited for the reading to start, someone noted that what we needed was a slam poet to kick things off. Funny that, there was one in the audience and he volunteered to do one of his favorite pieces, written on paper after years of using a computer to create his poetry. It was entitled Soul at Sunrise and was riveting, a commentary on life filled with alliteration, wordplay and rhyme. Like the audience, I could not believe our fortune in hearing such a strong piece from a completely unexpected source.
Acknowledging her fondness for winged creatures, Bray's poetry contained references to starlings, juncos, blue jays, crows and the kingfisher, which she referred to a " a poem kind of a bird." One poem about pelicans contained the visually evocative line, "They float on the water's tension." She did have non-avian poetry, including a poignant piece about her mother's death when she was a child and one she considered a tribute to her three brothers.
She was followed by her husband, poet Bill Notter who sheepishly admitted he had not one single poem about his lovely wife, although he did have one bird poem. He had poems written during the time he lived in Mississippi ("I guess to say rural Mississippi is redundant.") as well as his birth state, Colorado ("I grew up in Colorado, but the flat part. But I knew about mountains.").
Of living in Nebraska, he wrote that it had "more space than anyone can stand until he leaves." I can't attest to that feeling, but I understood what he was trying to say. Likewise his line about a life well-lived which began with, "If I got run over by a sugar beet truck tonight..." evoked a world with which I personally have no familiarity, but became conceivable with his choice of words. Somehow, I don't think being run over by a UPS truck would have quite the same impact on reading or hearing.
The reading was SRO, an unusual occurrence I can say with certainty since I attend so many of them. It was soul satisfying to see so many people in a poetic frame of mind on a Saturday afternoon.
Obviously I wasn't the only one who needed beautiful words to improve this particular day. How lucky for me that they were just waiting to be heard.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
