Hideaway (Le Refuge 2009)

Bizarre Story: A drug addicted woman is found barely clinging to life, is unknowingly pregnant,  with her dead boyfriend laying close by. She leaves, rents a lovely cottage, and welcomes the dead boyfriend’s adopted gay brother to live with her during her pregnancy. They party. She watches him make love to his lover. She and the gay brother make love. They all think her body is lovely in this state. Meanwhile she slams down methadone in the bathroom while all this is happening. Wow.

Lame Ending: She sends the gay brother away. He reluctantly departs-she has the baby. We see none of the childbirth. In this Paris Hospital room, tiny baby girl in a little bin beside the bed, in walks the gay brother for a visit. She suddenly needs a smoke – borrows a cigarette from him and walks outside where after smoking wearing an overcoat, we see a glimpse of her breasts from the sheer gown underneath – not withstanding she jumps on a train and disappears into the countryside.

Finale: She gazes out the window while she narrates the letter she left for the gay brother that the baby would be best left in his hands.

The End?… skip this..and save your netflix queue.

by Marsha Leigh St.Claire-B

This memoir piece is posted with permission from:
The Palo Alto Review ( Spring 2007 issue)

Archie,Veronica, Jughead and Me.

Tuesday afternoons began like this. I’m sitting near my front door with a folder full of piano music propped against my feet. The door is slightly ajar so I can peek around it from time to time to see if the taxicab has pulled up in front of our apartment…..

I check if I have everything — folder, music for today’s lesson, small bag of quarters. The change has been carefully counted out to ensure a seven mile ride to Braveroff’s on E Street, a couple more quarters for the tip, and one precious leftover for my reward…..

The yellow cab pulls up out front and I gather my things, lock the front door, and carefully slip the key inside my folder. I get in and tell the man where I’m going. It’s approximately four in the afternoon — I’m eleven years old…..

Some of the drivers recognize me from previous weeks. They are always polite — they don’t talk much and neither do I…..

In those seven miles I inhale my surroundings like I’ve always done — the integral part of my nature, recording for future reference, the scent memories like a time machine taking me back to this very hour…..

Some of the oddest odor combinations are found inside taxis — people’s fading perfumes, musty leather seats and stale cigarettes. The back seat always seemed to swallow me up, like an Alice in Wonderland story, such a tiny girl as I, never sitting up straight, preferring to slouch down or put my feet up if I could get away with it — always the desire to hide…..

Arriving at Braveroff’s, I would slide across the leather seat, part with a few more quarters, and then watch the taxi speed away. ….

Once inside the piano store, every corner buzzed with activity — music playing from different rooms would clash and assault your eardrums — people listening to demonstrations of pianos for sale, while children were coming and going, all with their neat little folders, in and out of tiny lesson rooms…..

One hour later, emerging from my own small room, depositing more coins on a piano bench for my teacher, I’d gather up my things and walk across the street…..

On the opposite corner from Braveroff’s a gigantic sign looms high above the store front like a beacon in a storm. It reads SAGE’S. The SAGE’S sign has bright green and white stripes; a color scheme that is seen inside and throughout, including the waitresses’ uniforms…..

SAGE’S was similar to a Target Store of today, but much classier. SAGE’S had an adjoining restaurant. They also had a detached toy store in the back. Sometimes I might take a walk there, if time permitted, where just a stroll through the door would be like stepping into heaven…..

But most Tuesdays I walked to the very back of this enormous building, my satchel of books swishing to and fro as I shuffled along — past cosmetics, past clothing for all ages, photo processing and prescriptions, finally arriving at my next stop for the evening…..

I had arrived at the coffee shop…..

I always learned to politely wait for the “hostess” to notice me…..

“Heeeey, hi ya honey,” the hostess would smile looking down from her podium…..

“Hi,” I whispered back, almost embarrassed that I actually had to talk…..

Some nights, Evelyn was the hostess on duty. She was always the sweetest to me, and always smiled real big when she talked…..

Evelyn escorted me back to the booth on the far north corner. This was my booth. I felt very special getting to sit there as customers were not seated in this area, being an unassigned station, and out of their view — I could pretend my celebrity status…..

My favorite part of the evening was getting closer. I would tell Evelyn my dinner selection, and it was always the same thing, at least from what I remember. It was a French dipped sandwich and a coke. The only thing on the plate besides the sandwich and dipping juice was a large dill pickle half and a sprig of parsley. The coke came in tall glass with no ice and a straw. This was the only time I remember eating out as a child…..

Sometimes during the meal, in which I ate entirely alone, the faint smell of the most wonderful ..Avon.. perfume would cause me to smile — I would even chew slower than I’d been doing. It was Edith…..

“Hi mom!” I would say muffled, with a mouthful of sandwich…..

“Hi honey,” she’d say, almost out of breath. Then she’d beam a smile at me as she glided past. She sometimes had a minute to talk before she had to run (and run she sometimes did) but mostly it was the fast paced walk the very best waitresses would do if they wanted good tips. And Edith always made good tips…..

After my stomach was full and the plates cleared away, I would slip out of my booth for a walk to my second favorite spot in the store (the toy store being my first):   the magazine aisle…..

I would then catch a glimpse of the bright colored rack that would have me standing in a trance of complete concentration. These were no ordinary comic books. These little newsprints would change my life, give me endless comfort, and put me in a world far away from this troubled one, but unfortunately also give me an udder distain for my appearance…..

After a time of flipping through pages, this would become a place of much indecision, a weight upon my shoulders which was hard to bear. The small issues were 10 cents and the giant issues were 25 cents. Most of the time I had one quarter left from my “tip” money that paid for my lesson and taxi. I could spend my quarter for either one giant or two regulars.  This was sheer agony every single week, which of those choices to make. There were so….

many — like freshly caught fish that must be thrown back — I could choose only one. ….

My favorite comics were about  “Archie.” Some were entitled “Archie and Veronica.” Others were “Archie and Jughead.”  Although each issue featured the titled names, all of the aforementioned characters attended the same high school — Riverdale, which was the same name as the school in ….New York…. that Archie’s creator, John L. Goldwater attended…..

These cartoon characters dressed in 50′s outfits, and drove hot-rod cars very much like “Happy Days” shows. Archie always loved and pursued Veronica, who was the richest girl in school…..

Betty, the not-so-rich average girl, always loved and pursued Archie, who was ambivalent to her; there by creating the endearing love triangle I would soon learn to crave…..

I became enamored of Veronica and Betty, and after careful study of their art, could soon scribble and draw them from memory all the while being troubled by their appearance, their interchangeability, the switching of Veronica’s dark hair to Betty’s blonde hair, everything else being exactly the same, a delicate turned up Michael Jackson-like nose, an unbelievably small waist and bulging breasts…..

I could never read enough stories about them and every Tuesday I looked forward to the last part of the night, past the taxi ride, past the noisy music store, and the French dipped sandwich — a journey to a world full of exciting high school dances and gobs of pretty clothes and boyfriends; a wonderful escape — a picture perfect life…..

In that last booth, with my comic book close to my face, my shoes slipped off and lying underneath, I would devour with delight every tiny conversation inside little cloud-like text bubbles, until the lights dimmed and my mother, finished with her shift, would sit down next to me…..

She began counting her tips on the table top with me lying next to her. I would read and read some more silently, walking the halls of Riverdale High, as she would lay each bill out like dealt cards and whisper,….

“Five, ten, fifteen, twenty, twenty five, thirty…”

I make screenshots of the scenes too which is verrrry time consuming – but worth it.

Here are the ones I made so far:  If you click the links they play on the JibJab site.

Starring (left to right top to bottom) Jeff, Julio, Rich, Marsh (me), Greg, Mickie

“It’s A JibJab Life”

I made this one for Bec with some MYSPACE/FACEBOOK friends:
starring Bec, Gig, Joe, Dwyane
“You’ll Put Your Eye Out”

Hip Hop Yourself – myspace/facebook/twitter buddies~
Jazzy J-Gig-John-Jer

Hip Hop Yourself – work pals~
Greg – Rich – Sam – Shandra

Then JOE put me in one of his:
A Christmas Carol”

myspace/fb friends: Steve,  John, (me), Dave,  Joe (popcorn lover)

/end <– maybe not — check back later..

The still photos from this vid are stored:
here

I will suffer with you

“All she had to say was…..’she’s twenty’…….and my heart was broken”.

A few days ago I stood like many other days at the counter. The lines had calmed down, nobody was waiting. I was looking down at my screen when a women approached. Our normal response is to spew out sometimes robotic words…”Did someone call you up? You have a boarding pass?” …but before I could utter a single word she simply said in a soft voice…
“Can you help me…please?”
As soon as she spoke I looked up at her tears and immediately stared into a face of pain. I let her continue and only got these very basic facts. She was flying alone to Tel Aviv to rush to her daughter’s side who was intensive care. Her reason for approaching me instead of using the kiosk was pretty simple…”I’m too distraught to concentrate”.

My heart softened. I know I was born to comfort people. My nature and that is when I am called upon in time of need, I respond with great compassion. I can be the most mixed up and confused soul when confronted with my own desires and needs but when someone needs me – I become another person. I gave this woman my full attention and checked her in as quickly and quietly as possible – took her bag – tried to calm her.

The thing I chose to tell her was what she needed and that was……”You are doing the most you can, right here, right now; the distance you have no control over.” She nodded and became quiet for just a few seconds.

The last thing I did was give her a few instructions…tell her I was so sorry to hear this story…then she uttered the thing that shook my soul. “She’s twenty.”

Just typing that out makes me pause …once more.

It was as if someone was guiding her to tell me that fact. Then my own eyes filled with tears and I had a hard time speaking.

All I could say was……”my daughter is also…twenty”. In the instant I uttered those words..my mind flashed a hundred frames per second of my own daughter’s struggle, and the deep pain from it over the last year, all the yet unresolved problems, pain and deep love I have for my own child. And it wasn’t simply because I could now relate to her, but it was the humbling way this situation made me ashamed. There is always someone else…that is in worse trouble than you are -

So just before I sent her to her gate, I asked if I could walk around in front of the counter to her in which she sadly nodded in an appreciative way.

I put my arms around her and can’t even remember what I said….some lame words about..may I give you some support from the airline you are traveling with today…something an ad writer would think too schmaltzy.

I do remember uttering……”I am so sorry……..” in which the poor woman sobbed on my shoulder.
Her tears literally made my shoulder wet for an hour. I have never been so moved.

The thought of her remained the entire day….so I made the Photoshop creation above in memory of her.

I will always wonder…..what the outcome was.

Due to copyright you must view the video on NBC which is ok by me – the quality is superb.

Madonna vs Agelina re: babies

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t scorn women who want lots of children, I am the true supporter of all things Mia Farrow. I do however, scorn women that and rich and famous and seem to want only children from another country.  I ‘d like to see both of them go get a white kid off the streets very much in style of Tracy Ulman who has already done a satire on this very subject.

Tracy\’s Malawi adoption <– youtube link

I only hope he survives giving up Taco Bell – that’s asking a lot. They’ve just added volcano beef burritos.

but they smell like plastic.

Seems like Jeff  (Amazon CEO) has done it again — although when I first saw the 500.00 price tag I had to ask myself,  “Wouldn’t that be like buying 35 hardbacks at about 10 bucks?”  How long did it take you to buy your last 35?  I rest my case.  The hidden secret is the wifi connection.  That one time price of 500.00 retail covers downloading books from Amazon indefinitely?  It’s hard to argue that would be high after I compare what I pay with my cable company and cell phone bills.

I can download books on my iphone now.  However, the screen is too bright and tiny for longs periods of reading so the new kindle is an interesting idea.  My old fashioned love affair with “new book smell” might be old hat,  but I’d miss it.  Plus, how do you write a lovely inscription as a gift on an E-book?   As cool as this all is, it makes me want to stroll through some old book stores and browse 1st editions,  maybe stumbling on some  wonderful old illustrations that I can touch, smell and feel.  Anyone see the movie “Definitely Maybe”? Someone wanna give me a lovely old edition of Jayne Eyre?  I’d pass out!  

A part of me is too sensual for technology –I’m torn – I love both.

Learn more about the Amazon Kindle

Let’s have icecream

Is was this video where I took that picture that everyone seems to like. yay for overexposure.

i love her style. cool sites-I’m jealous.

http://10secondstories.com/

http://magda.me/ …from her iphone (wordpress)

As for me, I’ll be at the drawing board all day.