Well, I have no excuses. Hopefully, someone, anyone still checks this space from time to time. I’ve been to embarrassed to even do that. I don’t even think I have an excuse. Maybe I’ve been busy? Let me think of some things that have happened in the last month or so. . . Um, there was the French Film Festival, which was really interesting and I got to interview French film actors and directors who descend on Richmond every year to present their films that if, not seen at this festival, never get distribution in the US. So, that was interesting. Especially since I don’t speak French. Davidde came down and translated and took photos for me, so we were like our own little AP operation.
It was quite an experience to watch a film and then get to chat with the person I just saw on the screen. A lot like “Purple Rose of Cairo,” except no Jeff Daniels or Mia Farrow and everything happened in the present. There were some lame attempts at flattering the French delegation from the audience—lots of Q & A show-offs who would ask a question in French that was so mangled that they were asked to just speak English. I tried to learn French by osmosis, but, shockingly, it did not work. I had a fantastic phone interview with the director of “Mon Ange” a film starring Vanessa Paradis—he was so nice and humble and excited to come to the festival. We had a hilarious conversation trying to understand each other. Such as, when I asked him what it was like to work with V. Paradis and he responded, “When you say action she is like somebody jumping out of the window, without anyone to take care of her.”
What else? A co-worker was kind enough to let D and me stay at her beach house in Virginia Beach a couple weekends back. It was so cute and, a beach house in the purest sense of the phrase. It was small and very bare bones but nicely decorated, no television, a patio and, most importantly blocks away from the beach. Now, if you’ve ever been to Virginia Beach (no, spring break does not count) then you know that most of it is a hideous monstrosity of hotels along the beach and arcades and now, with Starbucks! Which is why it’s a fairly avoidable place. However, what I did not know is that Virginia Beach has a beautiful residential area of Arts & Crafts style homes where real people live. Which is where our house was. So, the beach was empty, we got to watch surfers (oh, how I love to watch surfing!), D showed off his gas grill cooking skills, we rode bikes and snuck on the property of a Frank Lloyd Wright house. I even read fiction in the New Yorker. I turned off my phone and just did nothing but eat and think about the beach and relax. Sometimes, I think I could just disappear into some corner of the world and never be seen or heard from again. I guess that makes me a loner? Or, maybe it’s some residue of being an only child and being left alone to my own imagination. Whatever it is, I desperately need more of it in my life.
Oh, my birthday was last weekend. D and my friend Patrick planned a lovely party for me complete with balloons, margaritas, friends and ginger snaps. And, of course, a pink tiara. Fun times, fun times. I’m running out of goings-on! Okay, let me fall back on pop culture—what is up with Peter Doherty? I mean, it’s beyond gossip, it’s just bad news all around. Am I the only one who really does not want to see “United 93?” I’m just so not ready for a film version of the whole thing. So, yeah, that’s all I’ve got. And, if anyone has any insight on Seattle as a new possible locale for the Shannon & Daryl Show, please let me know.
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