Wednesday, March 11, 2009
SCREEN GEMS: "All That Glitters" By Denise Hickey Copyrighted but never before published Circa May 1987 - October 1990 New York City Scene VI It was Monday night. Debbie perched on the fire escape stairs outside the window as Lola lay sprawled on teh floor, reading about diets. To their relief, Lori had not come home last night but would be arriving shortly. "Play it cool," Lola warned. Strolling through the fields of Central Park, they had purged themselves of their newly shared hatred, as if ringing out a sopping wet sponge, seething with poison. Once during the improvised excercise class that Lola and Lori had shared, they had cried out in capricious frenzy: "Punch her! Punch her! Punch her!" Arms circling overhead, up, around, forward and down. The door lock clicked. The sound of a key turning in its triple lock filled the studio apartment. The door opened. Lori's naturally tan face was white. She did not look at Lola or Debbie, but at the floor, the refridgerator, anything but them. Debbie suppressed a giggle. "I missed you guys," Lori attempted. Debbie turned to the counter and said nothing. "How was your weekend?" Debbie did not answer Lori's question. "Oh, it was good, we found her an apartment and we went to Central Park," Lola supplied the answer. "Really? Oh." There was a long pause before anyone said anything. "Oh, don't you look cute!" Debbie spoke. She referred to the red patent leather pumps, white stretch pants, red and white striped sweater, white button earrings, all perfectly coordinated. "Did you go out this weekend?" "Yep. Had a good time," was Debbie's terse yet jovial reply. Denise Hickey Summer of '87 The East Village
SCREEN GEMS "All That Glitters" By Denise Hickey New York City Copyrighted but never before published Circa May 1987 - October 1991 ACT VII Scene II: "Making Up" She came home to find Lori packing. Her suitcase lay open and clothes lay in neat piles on the bed. Debbie had taken the express train instead of the local and it had brought her all the way down to Chinatown and she'd had to buy another talken and take the uptown train which just happened to be slow this Friday night. Wasn't Lori supposed to leave tomorrow? What was Leslie doing here? "Are you going home tonight? I thought it was tomorrow," Debbie interrogated sharply. "Yes," Lori replied, emotionlessly as usual. She lifted a yellow tee top off the bed and laid it neatly in her suitcase. Leslie sat on the slate gray flannel bedsheets in the studio apartment. "I thought you were leaving tomorrow! That's what you said this morning. Now I have nobody to go out with!" "Debbie! You've got me! I'll be here tonight," Lola turned and exclaimed in surprise. Lori packed methodically with not a word of explanation or apology while Debbie grumbled in fury, opening and closing her small blue suitcase where she stored her jewelry, refusing to look at her stoic roomate for fear she might ram her little suitcase over her little roomate's head. Lori left. Debbie watched as Lola sponged the counter, whisked the dishes away and reached into the cupboard for a glass, and she said nothing. She refused to reveal her opinion of Lola's bosom pal to her or anyone else. Scene II She walked across the small studio apartment and climbed out the window onto the fire escape stairs. There she sat, studying the cyclists and skaters, peering at them from her perch in the East Village. Six stories down, Avenue A shot past their apartment, where noise, incredibly amplified and shrill, rose up from the streets, into the studio, all night long, all day, every day. Some old man had his electic guitar plugged into something inside his green sedan and was cranking out a tune, just below her. The chords reverberated richly throughout the East Village. "Smoke. Smoke sense," the smokers chanted on the street corner where A met Ninth. She could actually not hear them as they murmured the subliminally seductive phrase beneath their breath, but she nevertheless knew what they were implying. The familiar phrase, chanted every time she crossed the street, picked up her laundry, and bought milk at the 24-hour grocery store below her apartment, planted itself in her mind that first summer in New York. She gazed across the street. There, in plain sight, was a fish market. She had never even noticed it before. She had been dying for fish and chips all summer. She climbed back in. Lola needed to use the phone. Debbie closed the window. "Did you eat yet?" Lola asked. "Maybe we'll go out to dinner." "No, I didn't eat yet. I don't know what I want." "You can open the window now. David and I are supposed to do something, but not till late." "Maybe I'll go home. I don't know what I should do." "David's not coming over till late. I'll be here," Lola offered. "Hey, I have some laundry. Can I put it with yours? I'll pay you," Lola promised. "That's all right." "No, I will. Where is that place that you take it? How much is it usually?" "Oh, that lady downstairs does it for three dollars in time for the next morning." "Well, I need it tonight. I don't have any underwear left." And Lola handed her three dollars and they walked out with it. "How does this look?" Lola sported an aqua half-top paired with satiny black tights. "That's what I like about New York," she said. "I work hard to keep my body in shape so why can't I show it off? Besides, in Lexington, I hated it when they would say, 'Oh, she thinks she's a hot shit.' " "Yeah, if you work that hard to keep in shape, then you should show it off," Debbie said agreeably. "I don't know." Lola shrugged. And she took it off and changed into something else. "Lori doesn't know it, but she's going to let me borrow something tonight," Lola said vehemently. "Yeah, she'll never know," Debbie assured her. She wasn't going to be a tattletale at any rate. Lola switched into Lori's popsicle pink belted top over her own brand new faded Italian designer jeans. "Should I wear this?" Debbie waved a huge black bow. "Bows are for day. Your hair looks fine." "Really? I don't think they are. They're more for night." "Actually, bows are out," Lola said. "Well, I like them," Debbie insisted. But she opted for a denim mini skirt and turquoise sweater, minus the bow. Scene IV Inside the Grassroots Cafe, on St. Mark's Place, the jukebox punched out a rock 'n' roll tune, reminiscent of college days in the rural reaches of Connecticut. Debbie requested two lights and Lola dug into her purse. "No, I've got it," Debbie slapped a few dollars on the dark wood surface of the bar. The damp cool smell of the bar precipitated the taste of cold acidic beer they would soon know. "It's been a long summer...," Debbie started to say. "I hate her...I...HATE...her," Lola sputtered. Debbie nodded drastically. "Know what she said to me? She said, 'It's obvious that you and Lola aren't hitting it off.' That's not what she told you, is it?" Debbie watched Lola's mouth open. "No." "I knew it," Debbie said. "Know what she said? She told me you didn't want to live with me. I thought you hated me!" Debbie shook her head. "Nope. I'm not surprised. Knew it." "She said: Lola, Debbie does NOT want to live with you." "Ah," Debbie said. "And then, I was even meaner to you. The whole time I was in Europe in July, I thought about you. I don't know why I ws so mean to you. I guess I was really scared because I was going to Europe alone. John was supposed to go with me. And then, I was even more mean after Lori told me you hated me!" "Just forget about it," Debbie gestured with her hand, as if to brush away any residue of animosity that remained between them. "No, really. Hit me!" Lola cried out refreshingly, holding out her arm. Debbie made a half-hearted gesture, then stopped. "Just forget about it." "Let's make up!" Lola held up her outstretched arms. The girls embraced like old buddies and all was absolved, forgiven, in the drunken camaraderie of the Grassroots Cafe.
SCREEN GEMS: "All That Glitters" By Denise Hickey Copyrighted but never before published ACT VII Scene I: "Lola" The sun streamed onto the shiny wood floor through the black wrought iron bars. The July morning sizzled with the summer heat, although it was only eight o'clock in the morning. Lola was doing stretches in the middle of the floor, her satiny legs in black tights, a wrinkled aqua tee shirt cut off just above her belly button. The music was slow, calm, seductive, aching, perfect for a summer morning. The drummer had jumped out the window the day before the concert, somewhere in New York City. Luther Vandross was a favorite of Lola's this summer. She carried the tape wherever she went, from the conservative streets of Lexington to the New York City heat and eventually, Europe. Denise Hickey Summer of 1987 The East Village /0808D
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
CLASSIC PEANUTS by Schulz Please try to understand... You're a fine fellow, but I can't risk your friendship... Every time I become close friends with one of these snowmen, the sun melts him away, and I'm left brokenhearted. I can't stand the agony...the terrible sense of loss...I've been hurt too often... Although, I will admit you have been a good neighbor...You look quite handsome with your coal eyes and carrot nose... Oh, well, one can't deliberately avoid friendships, I guess.... You can't keep to yourself just because you're afraid of being hurt, or..... AAUGH! Sob! "Poor Snoopy...I see he's lost another friend...it's too bad...he's so sensitive...." "Uh, huh...but I notice he wasn't too sensitive to eat the carrot!" *** :) * * *
KITBBUTZ, CALL IT QUITS!! kibbutz: n (pl: kibbutzim): a collective farm or settlement in Israel. kibitzer: n: one who looks on and often offers unwanted advice or comment (esp. at a card game). kibosh: n (origin unknown): something that serves as a check or stop. kibitz: vi (Yiddish, kibitsen): to observe as a kibitzer, esp: to be a kititzer at < ~a card game > barracuda: any of several predaceous marine fishes (genus Sphyraena of the family sphyraenidae) of warm seas that include excellent food fishes as well as forms regarded as toxic. Kibbitz, call it quits! Squash! put the kibosh on it! Stop! This ain't no game of cards. Squash! Let's put the kibosh! on it! Now! Check point. Stop. Kibbutzim, this ain't no whim. I'm here to stay, at least for another day. Barracuda-zim, this ain't no whim! I'm here to stay, at least for another day... This is one game of cards you won't win. I can see clearly now, the rain is gone... no more obstacles in my way..... I can see clearly now, the pain is gone -- Nothing but Sunshine is headed my way. Nothing but blue skies.... it's gonna be a bright, bright, bright Sunshine -y Day!! Yeay, gonna be a bright, bright, bright Sunshine-y Day!! Denise Go to town!