I know this is not a vlog, but...
Well, well, well. An embarrassing hiatus to say the least, mostly because I can't believe it's been SEVEN MONTHS!!!
It feels more like two. What have I been up to? The usual back and forth, winter, spring, and now all of the sudden it's summer. The sun came out in Paris right on schedule. Time to shop for my summer flight back home.
I've certainly been relying too heavily on the short cut that is Facebook, but ask any of my friends and they'll tell you: Even Facebook is no guarantee that you'll find me.
I've been planning workshops, writing poems, attending readings and other events. And, I've been filming. Not everything, but enough to tap out the memory on my external hard drive. I can't make the videos fast enough, but I have made quite a few since we last talked.
Most recently, my youngest sister Lisa came to town for my 40th birthday! Watch here.
I got to see Shaun and Eric (all the way from New Zealand!) in LA in April. Watch here.
And did I mention that WE MOVED?! This is a video of me killing a winter morning in our new hood just after we moved in in February.
I made this video when the brothers in-law and their families came to visit us here for the first time. And the last, so far. Apparently, Mehdi watches this video repeatedly and has learned the song by heart. Stay tuned for another video from his recent performance in his school's Diversity Dance Program last week.
And before all that happened, the man joined me for Christmas and New Year's in LA. We road tripped all over--this video almost captures that. And we made it to Cayucos for their annual Polar Bear Dip on New Year's morning. The song is about a car full of people trying to find a party... this auto route, that roundabout.
After he left me and the Fif in Cali, we visited my older younger sister and my niece in Santa Barbara. Maybe this isn't what every Sunday looks like there, but at least it's always an option.
Also in the works are videos of this year's Paris Poetry Workshop with Cecilia Woloch and several poetry videos... if I ever end up happy with the audio. Audio is hard. But at least I managed to get some decent recordings to start with. The workshop was amazing for me this year. It was a pleasure to be able to host it at our new apartment and there were, as there always are, some very talented poets involved. I guess I had met most of them in previous years, but there are always new friends to make, aren't there?
Which always makes me nostalgic for my old ones, the ones who are far away, or just gone. I miss my Grandma everyday recently. Again, her birthday just passed; and soon, though I don't want to know exactly when, the anniversary of her death will pass. Seven years.
Seven months. I'm sorry. I'll try not to stay away so long.
Showing posts with label sheetfetish. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sheetfetish. Show all posts
Friday, June 25, 2010
Monday, December 21, 2009
Window Licking
a new tradition?
Two years ago, we spent our first Christmas together in Paris. We didn't get a tree or make a turkey... didn't even exchange gifts. In fact, I can't remember what we did on Christmas eve or day. Truth is, it didn't feel much like Christmas at all, but at some point we did discover the spectacle of store windows at les grands magasins--the two major department stores near Opera Garnier. (Remember that video?)
Now around the time that I lost the drive to sell, sell, sell furniture, I also seem to have lost the urge to shop. I can list a dozen arguments against it under almost any circumstance, all designed to put my starving poet's mind at ease for her failure at all things capitalist consumer. And department stores are the worst offenders on my anti-shopping list. But these stores, these urban landscapes of fashion and class seem to come almost all undone around the holidays.
And I do love me some window shopping, or "window licking" from the French lèche les vitrines. The windows are so heavily animated that I rarely even notice the products they are probably trying to sell. Of course I suspect them of being very subversive, as are ads in any other medium, but I so enjoy the displays and the people watching that I can't be bothered to put my finger on any of the ways I should be offended... at least not exactly. In other words, I am somehow able to put my cynical, critical habits aside in favor of a sort of suspension of disbelief.
This year, I wanted to spend my last night in town wandering the boulevard, so after burgers and Bud at Hard Rock Cafe, we walked... sleeting rain and whipping wind be damned! Really, it wasn't that bad. See for yourself. The passing storm picked up just as we crossed the street between the two giant stores. The "first" video is posted here, just for you my dear readers. An expat_chats exclusive world premier ;)
And if you want to see the "second" one, go to my You Tube channel.
Marry Kissmas, y'all ;)
Two years ago, we spent our first Christmas together in Paris. We didn't get a tree or make a turkey... didn't even exchange gifts. In fact, I can't remember what we did on Christmas eve or day. Truth is, it didn't feel much like Christmas at all, but at some point we did discover the spectacle of store windows at les grands magasins--the two major department stores near Opera Garnier. (Remember that video?)
Now around the time that I lost the drive to sell, sell, sell furniture, I also seem to have lost the urge to shop. I can list a dozen arguments against it under almost any circumstance, all designed to put my starving poet's mind at ease for her failure at all things capitalist consumer. And department stores are the worst offenders on my anti-shopping list. But these stores, these urban landscapes of fashion and class seem to come almost all undone around the holidays.
And I do love me some window shopping, or "window licking" from the French lèche les vitrines. The windows are so heavily animated that I rarely even notice the products they are probably trying to sell. Of course I suspect them of being very subversive, as are ads in any other medium, but I so enjoy the displays and the people watching that I can't be bothered to put my finger on any of the ways I should be offended... at least not exactly. In other words, I am somehow able to put my cynical, critical habits aside in favor of a sort of suspension of disbelief.
This year, I wanted to spend my last night in town wandering the boulevard, so after burgers and Bud at Hard Rock Cafe, we walked... sleeting rain and whipping wind be damned! Really, it wasn't that bad. See for yourself. The passing storm picked up just as we crossed the street between the two giant stores. The "first" video is posted here, just for you my dear readers. An expat_chats exclusive world premier ;)
And if you want to see the "second" one, go to my You Tube channel.
Marry Kissmas, y'all ;)
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
Bastille Day
It's the people that you meet...
I'm still awed and amazed by this city sometimes. It happens by chance... an intersection of time, place, and people. It happens often, actually.
Last night I ended up at a Bastille Day celebration in Montmartre where I met JoJo from China who was flirting with her gorgeous German colleague--they work for a Swedish company--and Ingrid from Sweden but living in the northeastern US somewhere but I forget where, and her sons Daniel and Niels--ages 13 and 8--who like the Arc de Triomphe best, so far. Georges, the sometimes driver of Le Petit Train de Montmartre--the tram-like train that winds and whirs around that mountain--his Portuguese wife and their handsome young son. (I am old ;) Anna from Michigan. Florence from Paris--he's pretty sure she's Algerian. Yes, he came. It took some convincing but he ended up venturing out with me and my gal pal Theresa--from the LBC. Hehe.
All this after an afternoon spent lunching at Le Relais Gascon and girl-talking at Theresa's "Lola Studio" with Paris rooftops and blue sky out her window. We even had Ellen Fujioka for those precious hours! But when she left us, early evening, Theresa and I went for rum and fromage off the rue Lepic before deciding how our Bastille Day evening would be spent, all the while spending it. Her rental agent had invited her to a party further up the hill... at her 7th floor apartment over looking the whole of the city.
And do you know? I didn't take one picture. Sorry! It happens, especially when so many others are taking pictures. There was a guy with a ponytail and a super professional video camera who finished the evening by playing and singing "Halleluja" on the white upright piano in the mirrored dining area. This was after the fireworks so he had our full attention and got a flattering applause when he finished, which made me feel kinda bad for the guy who had been playing for most of the night--a less sexy character who didn't sing. We stood by the nuts on the clear glass table. A toddler with white blond locks of curls hit his head at least twice near the graciously angled corner. I didn't say anything to either one of them then. What do you say at moments like that?
Speaking of fireworks, the Eiffel Tower--clearly visible from the four french-doored terraces--stood ready to the south. JoJo and Theresa took those pictures where you hold it in the palm of your hand, and the sun went down to the west in its customary blazing glory, Monday morning passing in California. Once the fireworks began, the sky looked more like sea than air, high clouds like foam in moonlight. A cool breeze carried the smoke quickly and predictably to the northeast as everything always blows. I thought of the dust and paper casings from some 15,000 explosions--most ending up in the Seine, Johnny Hallyday--the French Bruce Springsteen--crooning to the million-or-so people trampling the grass that rests all year across the Champ de Mars, so that as I stood at that threshold--so close to the clouds with that plastic flute of Veuve Clicquot--I felt lucky. Even the piano player stopped... soft voices, the occasional ooh or ah--especially when the Tour sparkled with all her usual panache--and the delayed sound of light being made, flames thrown and burned brightly out.
When it was over, we clapped and clung to the few distant and lingering displays outside the city. George and his wife seemed to know which outlying cities these might be. I was happy just to be able to point out to Daniel and Niels the Arc de Triomphe rising like a stage in-the-round and lit-up above the darkening rooftops. Inside, though we tried to regain our earlier conversations, other guests had arrived and the champagne had stopped flowing. Guests took turns at the piano. Daniel and Niels sat next to Ingrid on one of the white leather sofas while she exchanged phone numbers with Anna. Others gathered around the generous remains of nuts, chips, sliced sausage, olives, cherries, and at the center--a gorgeous tray of middle-eastern pastries which went quickly, marking the last movements of the evening.
The table base of giant glass blocks was lined with books, stacks and rows of them, red hardbacks with script and impressionistic painting on the covers wrapped in plastic. One sat open on the table, an illustrated account of one woman's love affair with that mountain and its people... Paris Montmartre avec amour written by the hostess, Theresa's rental agent, Eva Leandre. The images--Cezanne-like studies of the locals--had been framed to cover the two walls not windowed or mirrored in that well-lit space. The artist, an old friend of Ms. Leandre's, Jean-Marc Gueroux was also in attendance. As we said our goodbyes and gave out cheek kisses, Ms. Leandre said I should stop by any time.
We got home after midnight and I finally walked the Filou at around 2. Two guys drove up and asked the way to the Marais ;) An Asian woman was dragged by the arm in halfhearted protest into the Hotel Chatelet by a uniformed officer. A couple argues by their car. Filou grumbled and growled at a group of young drunk guys trotting up his tree-lined avenue, their arms around each other's shoulders. The night seemed darker than usual despite the large half-moon at Saint Jacques' back. Maybe I still had fireworks in my eyes.
I'm still awed and amazed by this city sometimes. It happens by chance... an intersection of time, place, and people. It happens often, actually.
Last night I ended up at a Bastille Day celebration in Montmartre where I met JoJo from China who was flirting with her gorgeous German colleague--they work for a Swedish company--and Ingrid from Sweden but living in the northeastern US somewhere but I forget where, and her sons Daniel and Niels--ages 13 and 8--who like the Arc de Triomphe best, so far. Georges, the sometimes driver of Le Petit Train de Montmartre--the tram-like train that winds and whirs around that mountain--his Portuguese wife and their handsome young son. (I am old ;) Anna from Michigan. Florence from Paris--he's pretty sure she's Algerian. Yes, he came. It took some convincing but he ended up venturing out with me and my gal pal Theresa--from the LBC. Hehe.
All this after an afternoon spent lunching at Le Relais Gascon and girl-talking at Theresa's "Lola Studio" with Paris rooftops and blue sky out her window. We even had Ellen Fujioka for those precious hours! But when she left us, early evening, Theresa and I went for rum and fromage off the rue Lepic before deciding how our Bastille Day evening would be spent, all the while spending it. Her rental agent had invited her to a party further up the hill... at her 7th floor apartment over looking the whole of the city.
And do you know? I didn't take one picture. Sorry! It happens, especially when so many others are taking pictures. There was a guy with a ponytail and a super professional video camera who finished the evening by playing and singing "Halleluja" on the white upright piano in the mirrored dining area. This was after the fireworks so he had our full attention and got a flattering applause when he finished, which made me feel kinda bad for the guy who had been playing for most of the night--a less sexy character who didn't sing. We stood by the nuts on the clear glass table. A toddler with white blond locks of curls hit his head at least twice near the graciously angled corner. I didn't say anything to either one of them then. What do you say at moments like that?
Speaking of fireworks, the Eiffel Tower--clearly visible from the four french-doored terraces--stood ready to the south. JoJo and Theresa took those pictures where you hold it in the palm of your hand, and the sun went down to the west in its customary blazing glory, Monday morning passing in California. Once the fireworks began, the sky looked more like sea than air, high clouds like foam in moonlight. A cool breeze carried the smoke quickly and predictably to the northeast as everything always blows. I thought of the dust and paper casings from some 15,000 explosions--most ending up in the Seine, Johnny Hallyday--the French Bruce Springsteen--crooning to the million-or-so people trampling the grass that rests all year across the Champ de Mars, so that as I stood at that threshold--so close to the clouds with that plastic flute of Veuve Clicquot--I felt lucky. Even the piano player stopped... soft voices, the occasional ooh or ah--especially when the Tour sparkled with all her usual panache--and the delayed sound of light being made, flames thrown and burned brightly out.
When it was over, we clapped and clung to the few distant and lingering displays outside the city. George and his wife seemed to know which outlying cities these might be. I was happy just to be able to point out to Daniel and Niels the Arc de Triomphe rising like a stage in-the-round and lit-up above the darkening rooftops. Inside, though we tried to regain our earlier conversations, other guests had arrived and the champagne had stopped flowing. Guests took turns at the piano. Daniel and Niels sat next to Ingrid on one of the white leather sofas while she exchanged phone numbers with Anna. Others gathered around the generous remains of nuts, chips, sliced sausage, olives, cherries, and at the center--a gorgeous tray of middle-eastern pastries which went quickly, marking the last movements of the evening.
The table base of giant glass blocks was lined with books, stacks and rows of them, red hardbacks with script and impressionistic painting on the covers wrapped in plastic. One sat open on the table, an illustrated account of one woman's love affair with that mountain and its people... Paris Montmartre avec amour written by the hostess, Theresa's rental agent, Eva Leandre. The images--Cezanne-like studies of the locals--had been framed to cover the two walls not windowed or mirrored in that well-lit space. The artist, an old friend of Ms. Leandre's, Jean-Marc Gueroux was also in attendance. As we said our goodbyes and gave out cheek kisses, Ms. Leandre said I should stop by any time.
We got home after midnight and I finally walked the Filou at around 2. Two guys drove up and asked the way to the Marais ;) An Asian woman was dragged by the arm in halfhearted protest into the Hotel Chatelet by a uniformed officer. A couple argues by their car. Filou grumbled and growled at a group of young drunk guys trotting up his tree-lined avenue, their arms around each other's shoulders. The night seemed darker than usual despite the large half-moon at Saint Jacques' back. Maybe I still had fireworks in my eyes.
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Reporting from...
Amsterdam.
A little rain shower just moved quickly through and we're ready for Sunday, part two.
We did a lot of shopping today, gifts mostly... a few for me and many for people in our other cities. The daytime sky is not as poetic as the Parisian one, but the night sky is sublime... so I'm on a blue kick. Got a Lapis Lazuli ring at the Sunday flea market. And a clutch purse, but that's brown, orange and red floral print upholstery fabric... with tiny pink flowers on one side, too. With a little luck, we'll catch a canal tour this evening. Hope the clouds clear.
All of my web browsers are slowly switching to Dutch, so I'm going to get back to real life. I posted a few photos here... stay tuned for the video(s).
A little rain shower just moved quickly through and we're ready for Sunday, part two.
We did a lot of shopping today, gifts mostly... a few for me and many for people in our other cities. The daytime sky is not as poetic as the Parisian one, but the night sky is sublime... so I'm on a blue kick. Got a Lapis Lazuli ring at the Sunday flea market. And a clutch purse, but that's brown, orange and red floral print upholstery fabric... with tiny pink flowers on one side, too. With a little luck, we'll catch a canal tour this evening. Hope the clouds clear.
All of my web browsers are slowly switching to Dutch, so I'm going to get back to real life. I posted a few photos here... stay tuned for the video(s).
Friday, July 3, 2009
Shakin' Loose
At last!
I knew there was a good reason I was sleepless tonight. Just finished chatting with my little sis, my favorite sister... though she hasn't been my favorite for months now, not since she told me she was going to see Depeche Mode in August at the Hollywood Bowl--coolest of all LA venues--with SOMEONE ELSE! But now he can't go, so I'm in! I do hope Dave Gahan wears his leather pants!
And that's not all that's super cool tonight. I've finally begun my stint as, get this, the Creative Writing Program Director for WICE--a continuing education institute here in Paris--and our first course is all but on the books for this fall. This responsibility is the main reason why I didn't go home last month, but I'll make good use of my time since I also have a great lead on a job a language school. Thank you, Ellen Fujioka--my little go getter friend! I might have to go see her psychic while I'm in Long Beach.
I'll also be sitting in for David Barnes at The Other Writers' Group at Shakespeare & Co on July 11th and 18th. Come if you can... five copies of a work in progress, or just listen to the fine writing that others bring in. We can always use fresh eyes and ears.
Other great things that have happened in recent months: This spring I had the honor of working with Cecilia Woloch again to organize her Paris Poetry Workshop--click to see the video I made. Cecilia has such a great group of friends and poets every year. The themes of place, image, and collaboration always make for a very rewarding experience, so if you ever need a(nother) reason to come to Paris, I can highly recommend this week-long workshop. This year we also did photography with Jennifer Huxta, the Montparnasse Cemetery with Heather Hartley, a day in the country with Jeffrey Green--read French Spirits!--and an afternoon of collage poetry with Jen K. Dick. We finished up the week with a participants' reading at S&C, then dinner--Au Chien Qui Fume, where else?! The highlight of my week was reading my recently anthologized tribute to Alan Ginsberg's "Howl"--it's called "Wail"--at a reading we organized at Berkeley Books. There was thunderous applause and the owner of the bookstore complimented me on my bravery... They didn't put me in the "Woman as Freedom Figter" section for nothing! I left him a copy to read and/or sell, but if you can't stop in there, buy it here! The anthology is called Not a Muse, a global anthology of post-feminist poetry published by Haven Books in Hong Kong.
Then... I had my 39th birthday. He took me on a dinner cruise on the Bateaux Mouches--not even overrated. Can't believe it's taken us four years to finally do it! He even muscled us up to a table at the front of the boat, which made for a lovely video ;) Miles Davis' Blue In Green made the perfect soundtrack, even the title, given the colors of that evening. The clouds cleared when night fell, and then it was over.
But not my birthday! It went on all weekend long 'cause he took me to Amsterdam the next day. We just showed up at the train station and boarded the next train, wandered around town for two hours looking for a hotel that would allow Filou to stay, too. Then I got sick. Boooo... So, we're going back tomorrow/today. Seriously, does it get any better?! Ok. Depeche Mode at The Hollywood Bowl is pretty damn good.
Oh yeah, and this week Filou turned two. Of course we had a little party... and two of my MFA gal pals came! Thank you, Filou, for the great excuse to open up the Old El Paso Burrito Kit. He even got to lick his Raspberry Charlotte birthday cake. Oh yeah, and I made a video to celebrate his first two years. See it here.
I guess that just about catches you all up. 5am... time to go take my bath and head for Gare du Nord. See you soon!
I knew there was a good reason I was sleepless tonight. Just finished chatting with my little sis, my favorite sister... though she hasn't been my favorite for months now, not since she told me she was going to see Depeche Mode in August at the Hollywood Bowl--coolest of all LA venues--with SOMEONE ELSE! But now he can't go, so I'm in! I do hope Dave Gahan wears his leather pants!
And that's not all that's super cool tonight. I've finally begun my stint as, get this, the Creative Writing Program Director for WICE--a continuing education institute here in Paris--and our first course is all but on the books for this fall. This responsibility is the main reason why I didn't go home last month, but I'll make good use of my time since I also have a great lead on a job a language school. Thank you, Ellen Fujioka--my little go getter friend! I might have to go see her psychic while I'm in Long Beach.
I'll also be sitting in for David Barnes at The Other Writers' Group at Shakespeare & Co on July 11th and 18th. Come if you can... five copies of a work in progress, or just listen to the fine writing that others bring in. We can always use fresh eyes and ears.
Other great things that have happened in recent months: This spring I had the honor of working with Cecilia Woloch again to organize her Paris Poetry Workshop--click to see the video I made. Cecilia has such a great group of friends and poets every year. The themes of place, image, and collaboration always make for a very rewarding experience, so if you ever need a(nother) reason to come to Paris, I can highly recommend this week-long workshop. This year we also did photography with Jennifer Huxta, the Montparnasse Cemetery with Heather Hartley, a day in the country with Jeffrey Green--read French Spirits!--and an afternoon of collage poetry with Jen K. Dick. We finished up the week with a participants' reading at S&C, then dinner--Au Chien Qui Fume, where else?! The highlight of my week was reading my recently anthologized tribute to Alan Ginsberg's "Howl"--it's called "Wail"--at a reading we organized at Berkeley Books. There was thunderous applause and the owner of the bookstore complimented me on my bravery... They didn't put me in the "Woman as Freedom Figter" section for nothing! I left him a copy to read and/or sell, but if you can't stop in there, buy it here! The anthology is called Not a Muse, a global anthology of post-feminist poetry published by Haven Books in Hong Kong.
Then... I had my 39th birthday. He took me on a dinner cruise on the Bateaux Mouches--not even overrated. Can't believe it's taken us four years to finally do it! He even muscled us up to a table at the front of the boat, which made for a lovely video ;) Miles Davis' Blue In Green made the perfect soundtrack, even the title, given the colors of that evening. The clouds cleared when night fell, and then it was over.
But not my birthday! It went on all weekend long 'cause he took me to Amsterdam the next day. We just showed up at the train station and boarded the next train, wandered around town for two hours looking for a hotel that would allow Filou to stay, too. Then I got sick. Boooo... So, we're going back tomorrow/today. Seriously, does it get any better?! Ok. Depeche Mode at The Hollywood Bowl is pretty damn good.
Oh yeah, and this week Filou turned two. Of course we had a little party... and two of my MFA gal pals came! Thank you, Filou, for the great excuse to open up the Old El Paso Burrito Kit. He even got to lick his Raspberry Charlotte birthday cake. Oh yeah, and I made a video to celebrate his first two years. See it here.
I guess that just about catches you all up. 5am... time to go take my bath and head for Gare du Nord. See you soon!
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Spring Fling Videos
In case you missed my You Tube posts.
It's Tuesday again and Agnes, our housekeeper has just arrived, so before I head out to Au Chien qui Fume, I thought I'd take just a minute to let you know what I've been up to these past few blogless weeks. You didn't think I was sitting around at home, did you?
No... well, yes and no. I'm happily addicted to iMovie, which you wouldn't know unless you're tuned into my YouTube channel. When you go there, be sure to take a look at my "Favorites," too. I just found a couple Def Poetry clips that are not to be missed. And of course you saw my previous posts for my sister's birthday and The Other Writers' Group, right? Since then, I've made three more videos...
The first was in celebration of my dear friends' civil union in New Zealand. I still say it's a crying shame that they can't do this in the United States... they would be so much closer that way. Instead, I had to catch up with their wedded bliss on line... which is fine only because that is exactly how they met... so many years ago. Being film aficionados,they bumped into each other over movie chat and have not stopped watching since, so I was happy and proud to be asked to share in their special day in this special way. See the video here: Civil Union. It's a departure from my usual style only because of compatibility issues in our file exchange. Congratulations, Shaun and Eric! Let me know when you have photos and videos posted from the ceremony and reception.
Almost three weeks ago now, my sweetie and I spent a glorious pre-spring day in our favorite romantic spot, The Champs de Mars. This is where we had our first kiss ;) The Eiffel Tower is as captivating as ever, and our little Filou had so much fun meeting people and running away from the other dogs. I didn't make the video until this past weekend, and he figures prominently. He's going to see Bertrand for a hair cut today after we have lunch. His face is just sooo furry!
And last week, my friend Hillary was in town visiting her charming daughter Sophie who is currently a writer in residence at Shakespeare & Company. We had breakfast and dinner together on Thursday and in between, I took a long wander through one of my favorite places: Pere Lachaise.
I've been thinking a lot about collaboration lately because I'm working with Cecilia Woloch helping her organize her annual Paris Poetry Workshop, and collaboration is the overarching concept this year. We have some fantastic afternoon workshops scheduled with great local poets, and the participants' list is shaping up to be as international as ever. I'm planning on making a video of the week, but you'll have to wait for that.
Because I don't really have great audio capabilities, I set my clips to music. Though I never know in advance which song I'll use--it depends on how the footage feels once I upload it and begin to cut and paste--I'm always amazed at how obvious the musical choice is once I find it. Then I edit the video to fit the song, placing transitions and sometimes definitive moments at specific places in the song. Sometimes this even happens effortlessly. I'm sure this violates all sorts of copyright laws, but if YouTube is any indication, the "owners" don't seem to mind... unless they're drawing up the lawsuits as we speak! I prefer to think of it as artistic exchange. Music is the soundtrack to our lives, after all. And Lord knows I'm not making ANY money for MY efforts ;) I think of it as scrapbooking in the new millenium.
So that should keep you busy for a little while. I can't wait until my friend Ellise gets back from her trip "home" to Dallas. We're planning to whip up a little cooking video to promote her blog Cowgirl Chef and her corresponding cooking classes. They are a hoot if you're looking for an intimate take on American life in this crazy city. She is sooo much fun.
It's Tuesday again and Agnes, our housekeeper has just arrived, so before I head out to Au Chien qui Fume, I thought I'd take just a minute to let you know what I've been up to these past few blogless weeks. You didn't think I was sitting around at home, did you?
No... well, yes and no. I'm happily addicted to iMovie, which you wouldn't know unless you're tuned into my YouTube channel. When you go there, be sure to take a look at my "Favorites," too. I just found a couple Def Poetry clips that are not to be missed. And of course you saw my previous posts for my sister's birthday and The Other Writers' Group, right? Since then, I've made three more videos...
The first was in celebration of my dear friends' civil union in New Zealand. I still say it's a crying shame that they can't do this in the United States... they would be so much closer that way. Instead, I had to catch up with their wedded bliss on line... which is fine only because that is exactly how they met... so many years ago. Being film aficionados,they bumped into each other over movie chat and have not stopped watching since, so I was happy and proud to be asked to share in their special day in this special way. See the video here: Civil Union. It's a departure from my usual style only because of compatibility issues in our file exchange. Congratulations, Shaun and Eric! Let me know when you have photos and videos posted from the ceremony and reception.
Almost three weeks ago now, my sweetie and I spent a glorious pre-spring day in our favorite romantic spot, The Champs de Mars. This is where we had our first kiss ;) The Eiffel Tower is as captivating as ever, and our little Filou had so much fun meeting people and running away from the other dogs. I didn't make the video until this past weekend, and he figures prominently. He's going to see Bertrand for a hair cut today after we have lunch. His face is just sooo furry!
And last week, my friend Hillary was in town visiting her charming daughter Sophie who is currently a writer in residence at Shakespeare & Company. We had breakfast and dinner together on Thursday and in between, I took a long wander through one of my favorite places: Pere Lachaise.
I've been thinking a lot about collaboration lately because I'm working with Cecilia Woloch helping her organize her annual Paris Poetry Workshop, and collaboration is the overarching concept this year. We have some fantastic afternoon workshops scheduled with great local poets, and the participants' list is shaping up to be as international as ever. I'm planning on making a video of the week, but you'll have to wait for that.
Because I don't really have great audio capabilities, I set my clips to music. Though I never know in advance which song I'll use--it depends on how the footage feels once I upload it and begin to cut and paste--I'm always amazed at how obvious the musical choice is once I find it. Then I edit the video to fit the song, placing transitions and sometimes definitive moments at specific places in the song. Sometimes this even happens effortlessly. I'm sure this violates all sorts of copyright laws, but if YouTube is any indication, the "owners" don't seem to mind... unless they're drawing up the lawsuits as we speak! I prefer to think of it as artistic exchange. Music is the soundtrack to our lives, after all. And Lord knows I'm not making ANY money for MY efforts ;) I think of it as scrapbooking in the new millenium.
So that should keep you busy for a little while. I can't wait until my friend Ellise gets back from her trip "home" to Dallas. We're planning to whip up a little cooking video to promote her blog Cowgirl Chef and her corresponding cooking classes. They are a hoot if you're looking for an intimate take on American life in this crazy city. She is sooo much fun.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Saturdays
The Other Writers' Group
Since grad school, the only routine I've had is the one that's wrapped around his Monday though Friday work schedule. Fortunately--and unfortunately--he makes enough money to comfortably support the both of us... mostly fortunately since I still don't have the legal right to work in this country! Damn it. But recently, I've become a bit obsessed with finding my own routines even though I've never been a routine kinda gal. And as much as I am enjoying my Tuesdays Au Chien Qui Fume--in fact, my gal pal Alexa is meeting me there tomorrow--one excursion a week hardly seems enough to keep me sufficiently occupied in the 40+ hours a week I have to kill without him.
But there is another weekly activity that I have participated in on-and-off for four years now... This isn't the first time I've written about The Other Writers' Group at Shakespeare & Company, and it certainly won't be the last. But maybe this time is more official than the others. David Barnes began organizing the weekly workshop in 2005, and that is when I stumbled upon it. I was working on my French minor as an undergraduate and had seen a flyer posted on the store's bulletin board. Not much has changed since then. David's keen eye--and ears--continue to facilitate a friendly and savvy environment for English writers from all over the world... some who are only passing through and others who have lived in the city for years.
Here's how it works: Every Saturday evening from 5-7, as many as twenty-five and as few as three-to-five writers and readers meet in the upstairs library at the historic landmark across the Seine from Notre Dame. Some bring copies of their works in process but many don't. Listening and comments are encouraged either way. And let me tell you, you'd be hard pressed to find a more consistently good place to do so. I am constantly amazed at and grateful for the wealth of quality writing and readers that passes through those doors.
One of the most unique things about David's workshop IS those doors... revolving ones if you like. The ever changing faces and voices in the group--due to the changing seasons, vacations, the economy, and so many other fascinating factors--bring equally varied and enlightening works to discuss and critical commentary to rival any I've heard. I don't always take something to read, and there isn't always time to read everything everyone brings, but it isn't ALL about that. There is community at work, and a welcoming one at that.
If you aren't going to be in Paris on a Saturday for a while, maybe you want to check out the video I made after this week's meeting. And thanks for reading... and watching!
Since grad school, the only routine I've had is the one that's wrapped around his Monday though Friday work schedule. Fortunately--and unfortunately--he makes enough money to comfortably support the both of us... mostly fortunately since I still don't have the legal right to work in this country! Damn it. But recently, I've become a bit obsessed with finding my own routines even though I've never been a routine kinda gal. And as much as I am enjoying my Tuesdays Au Chien Qui Fume--in fact, my gal pal Alexa is meeting me there tomorrow--one excursion a week hardly seems enough to keep me sufficiently occupied in the 40+ hours a week I have to kill without him.
But there is another weekly activity that I have participated in on-and-off for four years now... This isn't the first time I've written about The Other Writers' Group at Shakespeare & Company, and it certainly won't be the last. But maybe this time is more official than the others. David Barnes began organizing the weekly workshop in 2005, and that is when I stumbled upon it. I was working on my French minor as an undergraduate and had seen a flyer posted on the store's bulletin board. Not much has changed since then. David's keen eye--and ears--continue to facilitate a friendly and savvy environment for English writers from all over the world... some who are only passing through and others who have lived in the city for years.
Here's how it works: Every Saturday evening from 5-7, as many as twenty-five and as few as three-to-five writers and readers meet in the upstairs library at the historic landmark across the Seine from Notre Dame. Some bring copies of their works in process but many don't. Listening and comments are encouraged either way. And let me tell you, you'd be hard pressed to find a more consistently good place to do so. I am constantly amazed at and grateful for the wealth of quality writing and readers that passes through those doors.
One of the most unique things about David's workshop IS those doors... revolving ones if you like. The ever changing faces and voices in the group--due to the changing seasons, vacations, the economy, and so many other fascinating factors--bring equally varied and enlightening works to discuss and critical commentary to rival any I've heard. I don't always take something to read, and there isn't always time to read everything everyone brings, but it isn't ALL about that. There is community at work, and a welcoming one at that.
If you aren't going to be in Paris on a Saturday for a while, maybe you want to check out the video I made after this week's meeting. And thanks for reading... and watching!
Friday, March 6, 2009
Saint Colette
open letter to my sister on her 29th birthday
Dear Brooke,
Did you know that in this very Catholic country, every single day is named for a saint, this one for Saint Colette. She died on this day in 1447 after devoting her life to reforming the "Poor Clares," a group of poverty stricken and apparently wayward nuns who founded Palm Sunday in 1212. I guess they weren't poor enough for Sainte Colette's liking because--according to Wikipedia--she prescribed more "extreme poverty," bare feet, "the observance of perpetual fast, and abstinence" in an attempt to purify their poor souls.
I, of course, prefer a more modern Colette and so am celebrating this day in her honor and yours. She has a lot to say about women and aging... if you haven't cracked her book of short stories yet ;) Thus begins your thirtieth year and an altogether different decade than the last. You're going out in quite a blaze of glory... a gorgeous new baby and a happy home, a career that promises all of the things our parents always wanted for us, and a persistent beauty fanned by your kindness and grace. I wish you all the self assurance and adventure that these older and wiser years can bring.
I've just come from a long walk all over town... to some of the places we visited when you were here in '05, places I know you love: Along the Seine to the Ile St. Louis, Notre Dame, then back west to Tuileries and the Louvre. There were a few magic moments, as usual... like when a nun came speeding though the swinging park gate at Notre Dame at ten to eight, pushing it open with her front bicycle tire, and when the gardener at Tuileries mistook me for a Russian then wanted to chat with me about movies stars when he found out I was from California, and when a woman found a wedding band at my feet as I was headed for the Pont des Arts and offered it to me for good luck... she tried to insist, but I told her to keep it, that I was never getting married. Then three other women in the next block tried the same scam on me... same exact gold band... probably not even real! Ok, so that wasn't magic after all! Unfortunately these are not the things I caught on film today.
I sure wish you were here now, or that I were there. Instead, this little video will have to do.
I'm thinking of you and hoping you, too, have a wonderful day. Thank you for being my reason...
xo,
S
Dear Brooke,
Did you know that in this very Catholic country, every single day is named for a saint, this one for Saint Colette. She died on this day in 1447 after devoting her life to reforming the "Poor Clares," a group of poverty stricken and apparently wayward nuns who founded Palm Sunday in 1212. I guess they weren't poor enough for Sainte Colette's liking because--according to Wikipedia--she prescribed more "extreme poverty," bare feet, "the observance of perpetual fast, and abstinence" in an attempt to purify their poor souls.
I, of course, prefer a more modern Colette and so am celebrating this day in her honor and yours. She has a lot to say about women and aging... if you haven't cracked her book of short stories yet ;) Thus begins your thirtieth year and an altogether different decade than the last. You're going out in quite a blaze of glory... a gorgeous new baby and a happy home, a career that promises all of the things our parents always wanted for us, and a persistent beauty fanned by your kindness and grace. I wish you all the self assurance and adventure that these older and wiser years can bring.
I've just come from a long walk all over town... to some of the places we visited when you were here in '05, places I know you love: Along the Seine to the Ile St. Louis, Notre Dame, then back west to Tuileries and the Louvre. There were a few magic moments, as usual... like when a nun came speeding though the swinging park gate at Notre Dame at ten to eight, pushing it open with her front bicycle tire, and when the gardener at Tuileries mistook me for a Russian then wanted to chat with me about movies stars when he found out I was from California, and when a woman found a wedding band at my feet as I was headed for the Pont des Arts and offered it to me for good luck... she tried to insist, but I told her to keep it, that I was never getting married. Then three other women in the next block tried the same scam on me... same exact gold band... probably not even real! Ok, so that wasn't magic after all! Unfortunately these are not the things I caught on film today.
I sure wish you were here now, or that I were there. Instead, this little video will have to do.
I'm thinking of you and hoping you, too, have a wonderful day. Thank you for being my reason...
xo,
S
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