I work in the periphery of the film industry. One of the productions we are working with in town was shooting tonight over on the east side and I stopped by to assist with some equipment issues. Once my work was done there and everyone was happy and hopeful (when you leave people, you should always endeavor to leave them happy and hopeful), I decided to wander a bit, as I do enjoy wandering. I especially love to wander in that part of the town.
As luck would have it I passed in front of Moo Shoes. Moo Shoes is “the first cruelty-free store of its kind in New York City.”* The idea of stopping by there to buy a new wallet had been bouncing in my head for weeks, but it seemed every time I was nearby it was after hours. Well, here I was, and there were the cats, so that meant it was wallet-buying time. The cats of Moo Shoes are legendary creatures, famed for their sedentary ways, sweet to behold and possessing of the loveliest and most stroke-able fur.
I am allergic to cats, unfortunately, so it is an ordeal every time I say hello to the cats of Moo Shoes, but my love of animals overrules any concerns about sneezing fits. I needed a new wallet because my old one was worn out and unsightly; it was also made of leather, and the longer I am vegetarian the more difficult it is to accept the presence of any dead animal on my person. I picked out a cool hemp wallet made by Ecolution, Inc and was on my way–after I said goodbye to the cats.
With the new wallet tucked in a pocket, I strolled north on Allen Street and peeked in the window of Bluestockings. Bluestockings is one of the best independent bookstores in New York City. I noticed a full-house for what was probably going to be a reading. I forget to keep on top of what’s going on there. The last time I was at Bluestockings for a reading was in April. Amy King read for the release of her terrific book of poetry I’m The Man Who Loves You.
I paused to consider going in to have a listen, pacing back and forth in front of the window like a shooting gallery duck behind bulletproof glass, but my boring self convinced my real self to skip it. I turned away from the glass and as I ducked my head to look into my bag to fish out my iPod, I saw the face of Amy King looking up at me. She appeared on the front page of an East Village free newspaper called BOOG CITY. There is a rack for papers and literature in front of the store, and there she was front and center. The headline advised me that “Amy King Contains Multitudes.” I grabbed one of the copies lower in the stack, one that the July sun had not yet yellowed, and went in to Bluestockings.
While I did not take it as a sign, seeing her face did remind me to feed my malnourished soul. I ordered a delicious iced Oregon Chai with soy milk and grabbed a seat on one of the roomy window benches. First came the Woman’s/Tran’s Poetry Slam and Open Mike. Next were readings from the featured poets: Christine Gelineau and Cory Kantin.
Here’s the text about the event from the Bluestockings website:
Christine Gelineau draws on both the lyrical and the narrative to look at the natural world and the human-constructed worlds of politics and culture. Cory Kantin gives everything to a city that takes everything and her poetry is her record. The jam is hosted by Vittoria Repetto, the hardest working guinea butch dyke poet on the Lower East Side. Open mike sign-up starts at 7PM. Deliver (up to) 8 minutes of your poetry, prose, songs and spoken word.
Vittoria Repetto was killer. The poets all impressed. I had a great time. As the poets read from their work, I scribbled one-word impressions of the poets as they came and went. Here are those words, in no particular order, describing no one and everyone:
Elaborate. Polite. Dramatic. Performance. Language. Strong. Dynamic. Chandler-esque. Conversational. Debonair. Comfortable. Understated. Intense. Brittle. Graceful. Case-hardened. Streisand. Terrific. Competent. Focus. Illumination. Clarity. Supportive. Instructive. Generous. Cool. Mother.
The readers at Open Mike I cannot name, but I would like to mention how much I enjoyed the readings by both Kantin and Gelineau. Repetto also charmed me with her wit and fire.
I’m glad I went inside. My soul: fed; my decision to enter: rewarded.
One last thing. The review of King in BOOG CITY is amazing. The reviewer, Mark Lamourex, compares her to Whitman. And he makes a good case for his argument.
That’s it for the night. Sweet dreams, friends.
* from the website
One Comment
Thanks for the comments!!
By the way I have a book:
Not Just A Personal Ad
by Vittoria repetto
published by Guernica Editions
ISBN 978-1-55071-244-5 - 84 pages $13 U.S.A. / $15 Canada
distributed by Independent Publishers Group
“Not Just A Personal Ad by Vittoria Repetto: Poems of intense sensibility and gorgeous imagery are a rarity these days; but this book of verse by a distinctly working class, distinctly lesbian, and distinctly Italian American voice is a must for all readers of good poetry.”
Rigoberto Gonzalez - On My Nightstand - Lambda Book Report - Fall 2006
______________
la bella figura*
la bella figura
dad believed in it
after mama died
he tried to dress me
no s. klein, gimbels or macy’s
for him
it was
lord & taylor’s
bonwit teller
for me
growing up mid 1960s
off bleecker st.
it was the army-navy store
all i wanted was a pair of levi’s
had to buy it myself
out of ten dollars allowance
as soon as the blue jeans got comfortable
you know
soft and faded
i’d come home
open my closet
they’d be gone
happened every three months
his daughter shouldn’t look like
a figlia di nessuno
nobody’s child
i had to save up
not buy school lunch
nothing in the fridge
i ate pasta heros for weeks
now when i go for sunday dinner
i wear blue jeans
if they’re ripped
even better.
*la bella figura - the concept of making a good appearance
__________________________
the A train
the A train
on way to penn station
a young puerto rican couple
she sleeps nestled
he is so delicate
he may be a butch
her breasts held in
with an ace bandage.
_______________
she’s doing the dishes
she’s doing the dishes
that’s the deal
i cook she washes
and i watch her
she laughs
winks
and wiggles her ass at me
so i go behind her
press myself
into her
open her 501’s button flys
trace my fingers down
navel to mount
she stops washing
i say
no keep on washing baby
i part the hairs
the lips major minor
circle her clit
when she comes
she loses her grip on the chef’s knife
almost breaking my favorite blue bowl
__________
“My joy in reading these poems was Repetto’s rebel energy. She revels in her lust without avoiding her history. This is also a woman of courage as she negotiates the complexities of a multicultural existence. She tunes in to people who ride in her cab; she loves the city and the love of women. For her sex is freedom to indulge her desire; it is not possessive but an exchange of pleasure. Growing up in an age when all things sexual were disguised in metaphor, or never mentioned. I found her candor refreshing and stripped of anxiety.”
Chuck Forester - Lambda Book Report Winter 2007 Page 30
This collection of poems manifests a genuine sensibility interacting with a striking poetic gift. The meld is seamless. Repetto uses contemporary American idiom with a skill that approximates Dante’s with the Tuscan dialect. Her precise, compact, colloquial cadences in this collection of 49 poems assemble the reality of growing up lesbian Italian American in lower Manhattan, loving and losing a mother, hating and reconciling with a father. Running, stumbling, recovering, her lines replicate the struggle between the contradictions of love and desire, work and leisure, pride and passion. No holds barred erotic episodes are unforgettably incised. Artlessness is achieved with great art. Finally, Repetto, without deprecating her innate butchness, emerges as a transcendently feminine person who has stitched together in these poems an entrancing crazy quilt that unabashedly reveals the here and now of human life, New York City edition. While much of the subject matter of “Not Just A Personal Ad” will have a special relevance for both Italian Americans and gays and lesbians, its audience is unlimited.
Post a Comment