Poetry and Politics

At last night's Poetic Principles reading at the Virginia Museum, the audience was treated to the pleasure of hearing Peter Orner read.

Orner is a Chicago native who grew up in a politically-inclined family.

Naturally, this turned him off to politics for many years, until he realized that Chicago politics, in particular, was some pretty interesting stuff.

His political poems commented on the state of the city's politicians, while offering insight into the peculiar nature of these people, good and bad.

Orner's perspective is unique; he got a law degree, tried one case and lost and decided to go back to what he knew: writing.

Which is fortunate for those of us who are readers and listeners, as the small group last night sat enthralled to the man's voice and words.

When everything in your life is a wreck, poetry can make it all feel better.

That's poetic principle number one.

I;m still trying to figure out what the others are. Give me time...and a whole lot more poetry.

Real Wine on a Sunday Afternoon

How better to start the week than with wine?

River City Cellars' latest offering was a Sunday class in Natural Wine, which translates to biodynamic and organic wines, with an emphasis on sustainability.

Most of the wine producers we tasted are small producers: 1000 to 4000 bottles a year.

We were told that using these viticulture methods produced wines with either Flaws (if you listen to the wine critics) or Personalty (if you listen to wine lovers).

Naturally, most of these wines are produced in Europe, so everything we tasted was from France or Spain.

Their long tradition of wine making gives them the edge on new ideas and methods apparently.

Everything we tasted, from the Tissot Cremant du Jura NV to the Texier Cotes du Rhone Brezeme Rouge 2006 displayed interesting qualities.

The wine reps (wine geeks, actually, who claimed they spent 95% of their time thinking/talking about wine) were enthusiastic guides as they convinced us that additives and treatments put into wine are there to suit the desires of critics, consumers and Beelzebub.

So, yes, they were a bit biased, but in a good way and their real wine promotion was contagious.

After all, if we care about what we eat and where it came from, shouldn't the same apply to what we drink?

Hold your answers until after you finish your wine.

An Evening of Passion

The VCU Flamenco Festival brought the Flamenco Aparicio Dance Company to the Singleton center last night for an impassioned performance.

If you've seen flamenco music performed, you know that the beat of the dancers' feet is an integral part of the music.

These three dancers brought incredibly powerful footwork to their dances, while at the same time using their arms and bodies to convey the imagery of the songs.

I only wish I had the ability to move my feet and body so sensuously.

The musicians consisted of a percussionist, a flamenco guitarist and a vocalist (who, as it turned out, also danced).

Clearly we were not the only flamenco fans in Richmond since the house was close to full.

 Or perhaps it was the extremely reasonable $15 ticket price, thanks to the underwriting of VCU.

Once again, I am grateful for the array of culture VCU brings to me Richmond.

In any case, it was a passionate and fiery performance to beautiful Spanish music and by the end, the entire audience was on its feet.

As Charlie Moeser, who teaches flamenco guitar at VCU said, "Ole! And wow!"

What Did You Miss Last Night?

This was my second year for the Black Maria Film and Video Festival at the Grace Street Theater.

It's an outstanding chance to see some of the best short form film being made currently and last night did not disappoint.

The highlight was the Grand Prize Selection, Nora. a narrative/dance film shot in South Africa.

It told the story of Nora Chipaumire, a dancer who was born in Zimbabwe in 1965 and now lives in NYC.

The film interspersed modern dance with the story of her life.

Nora's dancing was mesmerizing, as was the majestic African scenery and the film ended with silence at its brilliance from the audience before rapturous applause.

One of the quirkier films shown was The Death of Grandma Gladys, Kate Lain's photographic tribute to her great-grandma.

The pictures show a woman almost always dressed in men's clothes and sometimes kissing another woman.

From these images, Lain tries to draw conclusions which ultimately become a discussion of post-structuralism.

Funny and intriguing at the same time.

This film fest, which travels the country showing a different program in each city, is a once-a-year treat for RVA.

For five bones, it's an evening of superior film making for film geeks.

Even the female ones dressed in men's clothing.

DYOB* Wows the Crowd

I avoided the rush and waited until tonight to check out the new Bowtie Theater; I'd heard it was crazy-busy last weekend when it opened. Understandably, too, given that we city dwellers have had to drive to the counties for movies once we've seen whatever's at the 2-screen Westhampton (which I do love for its art film focus).

I'd read months ago that Bowtie would not show commercials, only trailers, which is a nice touch. I'm sure, for many, the attraction is the alcoholic beverages served in the concession area. My favorite innovation? You get to dispense the butter onto your popcorn yourself (DYOB)...now that's a sure way to please the customer!

I went to see Frost/Nixon because it leaves town tomorrow and I've been meaning to see it since, well, since before I got pneumonia. It was an in-depth look at the process leading to the infamous TV interviews and a sobering reminder of what a cultural shift in America's perception of the Presidency Watergate was.

Not surprisingly, everyone in the audience, like myself, was of an age that lived through the break-in and eventual resignation of Nixon. Of course, we were young and idealistic then and we were now viewing the film with older and wiser eyes and much more life experience, not that it softened my opinion of the man...even a little.

Photographing the Past

"When History Becomes Art" was the lecture topic today at the VA Historical Society and the lecturer was Denise Bethel, director of the photography department at Sotheby's in New York (and originally a Richmond native). Her stories about how they acquired some of the 19th century photographs to be auctioned off were fascinating, mainly because so often the donors had no idea of the value of the pictures. And the values? Back in the 90s, daguerreotypes were going for $20,000, sometimes even $50,000 if they were particularly notable or unusual. These days, she informed us, they can easily go for $100,000 and up each, some even reaching into the millions and many end up in public collections for all to appreciate.

But the glimpse they provide of lives lived long ago make them worth every penny, it seems to me. One was a shot of the US Capital with the second dome in place after the first burned. Another was a composite of every member of the Virginia General Assembly during Polk's administration. A photograph of a renowned surgeon showed him with his hand on a baby's skeleton and a model of a wax heart in front of him. Fascinating stuff.

The shift from photography as a means of documentation (people, buildings, projects) to an art form in and of itself was the underlying theme of the lecture and ties into the current exhibit at VHS, "Photography in Virginia." It's definitely worth checking out.

Let it Snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow!

When Richmond gets 6-10" of snow, like we did Sunday night into Monday morning, it's an occasion. First, when you only get this much snow every 7 years, it's easy to forget how beautifully snow transforms the landscape. The wind was strong during the snowstorm, so it found its way into nooks and crannies, highlighting architectural details and framing shapes. Birdhouses had white-covered rooves and perches. Rose and azalea bushes had snow on each leaf. The cross beams on fences were horizontal accents in white.

But the highlight of the snow had to be the 3' snow penis I spotted Monday afternoon on the hood of a car. It was surprising and amazingly accurate in detail. Sadly, when I went back to take a picture of it a few hours later, the car had been moved. I told people about it, but they wanted to see it. Oh, well.

Imagine my surprise this morning when I spotted a truck with not one, but two snow penises (one on the hood, one in the bed of the truck) announcing itself! Is this the 21st century snowman or snow angel? Was there a memo about snow penises that I missed? One I could write off as a freak thing, but three and I think I see a trend. I'm sure this says something about our culture, but I don't care to think too hard about what it might be.

I Love Lily!

Saturday night I spent at Gallery 5 for the All the Saints Theater Company's Spaghetti Dinner and Show, organized by one of my favorite people, Lily Lamberta. Lily is the amazing artist who creates all those larger-than-life puppets, like the ones in the Halloween parade and the mounted heads made entirely of recycled materials in her recent one-woman show at Metro Gallery.

As usual, the evening starts with a buffet dinner of spaghetti, spinach, fresh bread and aioli made by Lily and company. Then everyone re-convenes downstairs for several hours of entertainment. Chris Milk's Huckiddy Puppet Theatre's performance had no puppets this time, but was dark, funny and thought-provoking, as usual. Or maybe it was just its topic of "my life sucks" that appealed to me specifically. The hilarious Herschel Stratego had everyone laughing with his clever songs about women, vegans, stalking and girlfriend rules (and his fireman pajamas were a nice touch). Punk Sinatra's goldfish in a bowl alone was worth the price of admission.

The headliner was DC's Son Cosita Seria, a high-energy trio who played traditional Son Jarocha music (essentially country music of the people). It only took about two songs before chairs were cleared and the audience was stomping, dancing and swaying to the mixture of Spanish, African and indigenous music filling the space. I don't think there was a single person in the room not smiling ear to ear.

Food, a variety of entertainment and dancing...now that's a recipe for a great Saturday night.

Wine Me Up

The Virginia Wine Expo got a new volunteer this year when a friend suggested I help out at the Cardinal Point Winery table Saturday afternoon. Sure, why not? After all, we unemployed types have no reason not to volunteer some of our abundance of free time. Well, that and I would be paid in wine.

The expo opened at 11:00, but only for those in the trade, which meant it was extremely slow for the first two hours. But holy crap, Batman, once the public was allowed in at 1:00, we were slammed. It didn't help that Cardinal Point's Cabernet Franc Reserve had won the Gold Cup the night before, but a surprising number of people who stopped by the table told me that they had been to the winery and had liked every single wine. Quite a testimonial.

So, I got a crash course in CP's wine offerings and began to pour and talk like I knew what I was doing. The A6? A blend of 61% oak-aged viognier and 39% steel-aged chardonnay. The Rockfish Red? A summer wine, an easy-drinking Beaujolais style picnic wine that might even woo some white wine drinkers. And so on.

Many tasters were wine novices and then there were the really obnoxious wine snobs. My favorite was dressed like a woman, but she sure came cross like a man in a leopard-print blouse and informed me that one wine was "accessible...for the uninformed." Give me a break! Then there were the husbands and boyfriends who would flirt with me as their women stood behind them sipping. A couple of them even winked as they left, like we'd made some sort of intimate connection.

After 5 hours smiling and pouring, I left with 4 bottles of wine and probably all kinds of new smile lines. But I had been too busy to focus on all the crap that's been going on in my life lately, so, in some ways, it was the ideal way to spend an afternoon. And plenty of wine for the future...

Poetry to Feed the Soul and Mind

Fresh Ink, a new author series at the Visual Arts Center debuted tonight with two poets doing the reading.

Carol Ann Davis and James Hoch were very different stylistically, which made for a most enjoyable contrast in what the audience heard. I couldn't have been the only one who appreciated the contrast.

Davis' work was far more introspective and even she acknowledged having to look for "something lighter" to read us toward the end. Her poems had the loveliest phrasing and, not surprisingly, I could relate to her female take on things.

On the other hand, much of Hoch's poetry contained a great deal of humor, both overt and implied. Not all of it was humorous by any means, but when it was there, it caused many of us to chuckle or even laugh out loud.

I know poetry readings aren't for everyone, but then neither is poetry. In my humble opinion, though, far more people would appreciate poetry if they heard it read, rather than just reading it silently themselves as is so often the case.

Not sure I'm right? Close your eyes and imagine a lover reading a poem to you.

Especially when it's read by the author, poetry read aloud can be a beautiful experience.

And who isn't looking for beautiful experiences?

Heaven on a Plate

I'm not a big fan of dried fruit, but I sure do love some bacon-wrapped dates like the ones I had last night at Bin 22.

Just about every tapas and small plate restaurant has some version of dates on its menu these days.

Some are fried, some are stuffed with cheese, but, as well know, bacon makes everything better, and that includes dates.

Moments after I ordered them, the restaurant began to smell divine as the bacon was being fried up.

The owner even tried to entice a girl on the patio to come in, saying, "Mmmm, bacon. Don't you want to come inside?"

I just sipped my Cabernet and waited patiently.

And I was not disappointed.

When the plate arrived, there were at least half a dozen dates, each wrapped in a full rasher of bacon (which meant repeated wrappings), and arranged atop and beside a lovely salad of mixed greens with balsamic vinaigrette.

So I got sweet, salty and bitter and thoroughly enjoyed every bite.

Okay, so maybe I do like dried fruit more than I give myself credit for.

Mmm, bacon is always worth coming inside for.

Taking the Amazing Legs for A Walk

I'd been meaning to meet up with my friend Scott since he got dumped back in January, but pneumonia intervened.

By the time I recovered from that, I'd been dumped, so clearly it was time for the two of us to meet up for lunch and commiserate.

That day came yesterday and the place was Bistro 27, so I didn't have to go far.

Carlos, the handsome and talented chef/owner asked me what was new and I mentioned the breakup; he said the ex had been in for lunch the day before.

Whew! Scott and I had considered meeting Monday and now I was glad we'd put it off until Tuesday.

We had a delicious meal and he told me his story and I shared mine.

Talking to Scott is always a pleasure; he and I share an enthusiasm for life and a consistently positive attitude so neither of us is ever likely to bring anyone down.

Afterwards, Scott's bacon, ham and cheddar frittata was so filling that he suggested a walk...and walk we did.

We went further downtown to look at the progress of the Performing Arts Center, we checked out the hole that will supposedly be the Century Tower and even inspected the crumbling John Marshall Hotel facade.

It's a shame to see nothing much happening on that grand building because it would be such an asset to the neighborhood.

Steel bands were in place in several places on the building, apparently to prevent any more of the limestone pieces from falling to the street.

Several satisfying hours later, we parted.

Upon returning home, Scott updated his status with, "Scott had a great afternoon with the most amazing legs in Richmond."

That's the kind of afternoon that does a girl's ego good.

Cheese Lust Delivers Music Talk

Monday night I headed over to everyone's favorite hipster/vegetarian joint, Ipanema, for dinner.

Partly I was craving their amazing smoked gouda grilled cheese and partly I just needed to be out amongst others.

It worked out great because I had a delicious meal, got happy hour prices for my wine (2 bucks a glass is hard to beat) and sat next to a music-loving VCU grad student who supplied plenty of thoughful conversation for the evening.

I can make small talk with the best of them, but after discussing the weather (way too cold), his studies (advertising), our birthplaces (Oklahoma and DC), art (we'd both seen the Turner exhibit at the National Gallery) and birth order (only and first), it was time, at least for me, to move on to music.

I love a good discussion of musical taste and my bar mate Tony was ready to provide.

We began with Animal Collective, moved through his Phish days, my fondness for Joy Division and their followers, our mutual admiration society for Yo La Tengo and assorted concert experiences.

Several hours passed in a haze of band comparisons before we both realized it was time to get home.

I love evenings like that.

I went in for a favorite sandwich and as a bonus got stellar conversation, all kinds of musical challenges and some excellent conversation.

Thanks, Tony.

Life is good.

Brunch Takes Care of Stomach AND Legs

I met up with a friend I hadn't seen in months for brunch at Deluxe today.

We knew enough to arrive at 1130 (before the beautiful people show up) and grabbed two spots at the bar...which was hopping.

And, not surprisingly, once we saw how generous the bartender's pour on the mimosas was.

He might just as well have used a little red and yellow food coloring for all the orange juice he put in the mimosas.

This is a good place to drink mimosas we decided.

Friend enjoyed a big old omelet and I had a steak salad, so everyone was happy.

We discussed my recent relationship woes and his as well; he's just recently rid himself of a former quasi-girlfriend.

 His take on my new single status was in the form of an analogy.

Apparently, growing up his mom's blueberry pie was to die for.

If anyone ever declined a slice, his dad's response was always, "Fine, more for me."

When I asked if he saw any tragedy in my break-up, he invoked his Dad's blueberry pie response.

Alrighty, then.

Knowing my fondness for eye-catching tights, he did bring me a belated Christmas gift of two especially great pairs.

And while it may seem odd for a friend to buy me tights, he's certainly not the first.

It's almost the go-to gift when my friends think of me.

Since I always wear a skirt or dress, I can never really have too many pairs of great tights...or too much blueberry pie.

RVA Jazz Fest: A Treat for the Ears & Eyes

I am so lucky to live in Richmond where an event like last night's Jazz Fest at the Camel offered so much talent and music for a mere ten bucks.

Not only that, but we arrived around 745 and were able to score a couple of sets in the second row.

Only here does that kind of luck happen.

There were excellent sets from Glows in the Dark, Boots of Leather and Fight the Big Bull.

And even though I've seen all three groups perform before, they all continue to bring something new to every performance.

The crowd was a jazz-loving bunch and really into the musical meanderings of the performers.

Clearly this was a destination performance: the two guys seated next to me had driven in from Charlottesville for the show.

One highlight of the evening was watching a woman open a bathroom door to find Matt White, leader of FTBB, inside.

The look on her face made me laugh.

Now, he claimed the door didn't lock properly, but of course, he is a performer...

Although this was the first RVA Jazz Fest, we were told last night that it won't be the last.

I think it may be necessary to find a larger venue next year, though; we took up every available space in the Camel last night.

Here's to RVA's thriving jazz scene.

Nothing is Different, but Everything's Changed

Clearly my planets are out of alignment because it has been one seismic life event after another since mid-December.

No doubt, these things cause major stress, but I am doing my best to accept and move forward as best I can.

I've been jobless for two months, but, given the economy, that's not a very long time.

When I was laid off in 2004, the economy was much stronger and it still took me 4 1/2 months to find a job and not even one that I wanted, but one that paid the bills for 2 1/2 months until I found the job I did want.

So, no reason to be discouraged about my job state yet. I continue to send out resumes and hope for the best.

Okay, pneumonia for a month was completely out of the blue.

I almost never get sick, so being incapacitated for so long, including five days in Intensive Care, was daunting.

But, I am probably 97% recovered now so that's behind me.

I've paid my pneumonia dues, so to speak.

When a long time relationship ends unexpectedly, there's not a lot to do about it other than accept and grieve.

That simple statement belies just how devastated I was at being dumped by the person I thought was the love of my life after six years.

I had honestly thought we would grow old together; I loved him that much and thought we had committed to that.

But since you can't make someone love you, I have no choice in this awful situation.

That's where I am right now.

Will I feel differently about it in 6 months or a year or two?

I don't know, but going forward I have to hope that I won't be this sad forever.

Or maybe I will.

Lunch Talk

When I was among the employed, I generally brought and ate lunch at my desk every day.

Now and then I'd meet someone for lunch, usually to try a new place (Aurora, Papa Ningo, etc.).

Now that I am among the unemployed, I usually eat at home, but I broke bad twice this week for lunch out with friends.

Thursday was lunch at Kuba Kuba with a girlfriend I hadn't seen since before "the great sickness" (my pneumonia).

She knew about the layoff, but wanted the details of the other stuff going on in my life.

It was cathartic to open up and tell her all the crappy stuff that's been happening in my life lately...especially since I usually lead a charmed life.

My oh-so tasty lunch was mussels in a garlic/tasso ham broth with plenty of Cuban toast to soak up that brothy goodness.

One of the waiters, also a musician in Fight the Big Bull, gave us a flier about Friday night's performance in at the Robinson in Church Hill.

Today's lunch was with a guy friend at the new Gibson's at the National.

We used to work together, so he filled me in on the latest office gossip.

What I wanted to hear about was his new relationship, since it had come about since I'd last seen him.

What he wanted to know about was whether everything was okay with me and since it's not, I just alluded to things being a bit overwhelming at the moment.

Like my other friends, he was surprised that I would acknowledge any problems since I always wear my happy face.

That's been tough lately, though, so I didn't really open up.

Lunch was a steak salad with fried onions and little potatoes, which was too large but mostly quite good, although the blue cheese dressing was mediocre.

I should get out more, because I was actually surprised that both places were mobbed during lunch.

It worked out fine both days, though, because we could discuss life without anyone paying the slightest bit of attention to us.

And right now the last thing I need is anyone paying attention to me.

Don't See Me if You Know I'm Too Good for You!

So I've had two job interviews over the past week.

I submitted my resume, they liked what they saw and asked me to come in to talk.

Fair enough.

The first time, the interviewer was a woman a few years younger than me.

She asked me all kinds of questions about my former positions, how I'd chosen my career path and even about how I spent my free time.

If we'd met in a bar, we probably would have exchanged numbers and met up again to chat.

It was a great conversation and I could tell she was impressed by me...right up until she told me that there would be no point in hiring me because I'd be bored with the job in a week.

Well, duh, I knew I wasn't applying for my dream job, but I am certainly more than competent to do what they needed.

Next time out, I was interviewed by a man and woman from the HR Team (gag).

They proceeded to provide job scenarios and asked how I would handle them.

No big deal; problem-solving is one of my strengths. They were particularly impressed with a couple of my solutions and said so.

Everything was going well until the end when they informed me that while they'd love to hire me, it would be pointless because I'd be sure to leave for a better job than what they could offer me.

Really? Because there aren't a lot of better jobs out there at the moment.

Anyway, this is really just a rant to potential employers.

If you look at a resume and think the person is overqualified, don't bother asking them in for an interview.

Chances are they'll just impress you more in person and then you'll have to tell them you can't hire them.

And I don't need to get dressed up for that.

A Super (8) Evening

The James River Filmmakers Forum last night was an interesting look at the state of local film making of all types.

A sci-fi horror film shot entirely against a green screen?

Check.

A XXX-rated parody that becomes a surrealist rant?

Yep.

A time lapse film about Richmond's canal boats?

Yes, sir.

A French New Wave inspired memory?

Oh, yes.

A documentary about working 3 nights at Ground Zero after 9/11?

Most definitely.

The films ran the gamut from pure experimental, conceptual-type films to straight-on documentaries, but each offered the audience a peek into the mind of the filmmaker.

I was especially taken by the fact that so many of the works were a combination of new and old formats, many using the very old-school Super 8 while others also incorporated digital media.

Way back in college, I was part of a group who spent every Sunday shooting a movie on Super 8, so I found it pretty cool to learn that filmmakers are still into the format.

Who knew?

The evening ended with a town-hall kind of forum with the filmmakers answering questions and discussing the motivation behind their work.

The evening was presented by the Richmond Moving Image Co-Op, the same fine folks who bring us Flicker and the Italian Film Fest and the James River Film Festival.

With their support, no doubt RVA's indie filmmaking scene will continue to flourish and film lovers like me will only benefit.

Yes, But Can It Lure Me Out of the City Again?

I know I'm late to jump on the bandwagon, but I finally made it to Trader Joe's to check the place out.

I'd been to a Whole Foods before, so I haven't made a point of checking out the RVA store, but I'd never been to a TJ's, so I decided to see for myself.

Two things immediately jumped out at me: they've got a lot of inventory in a relatively small store and good gawd, there were so many people in the store!

Perhaps the newness hasn't worn off yet or perhaps Richmond was just so TJ's-starved that we can't get enough of the place, but you had to really pay attention not to be run over or bump into other shoppers.

That made it a bit tough for a first-timer who was just trying to take it all in.

The highlight was discovering pound and a half containers of blueberries for only $5.99!

I've been paying $3.99 for 6 ounces at Kroger, and I eat blueberries every day of my life, so that was a lovely find (and a huge savings for this unemployed blueberry eater).

I'd been told that the frozen food section was worth trolling at TJ's, so I did and saw some interesting options.

Over at the dairy case, they were offering samples of their lobster ravioli and I have to admit, it was pretty tasty.

That went into the basket.

The large wine section was crawling with winos, so I didn't even attempt that.

Would I go back?

My hatred of shopping is legendary, but the exception to that rule is grocery shopping, and this place was interesting enough for a return visit.

The problem is it's in god-forsaken Short Pump, a place I avoid like the plague.

Hmm, a rock and a hard place dilemma.

We'll see...