But I'm just from South Carolina.
Yeah, honey that'll do . .
(Sexist pygmalion. A statue fall on you)
And HORRORS! My hair is straight .. and long.
One of those 1950s styles. . . the kind that lets 6th grade girls chew their
side bangs. If asked I shall refuse to chew on my hair.
I am escorted to a table with other girls. We're talking about the
'bad thing' that happened to my father, but I have to refer to him
as 'pa' 'cuz we just moved to Boston from .. well they won't tell
me _where_ from. Some lady with a script just says 'bama in a
nasal whine and tells me that's all I need to know.
Gregory Peck enters the set as young as he was in Spellbound. He kisses
me on the head and says he'll be back; everything will be alright.
I want to be 10 years older so I can play something besides his
daughter.
He's leaving for . . ? . . the hearing.
As soon as the door slams shut the other girls mauraud me with questions . . why
did he do it? ARE YOU COMMUNISTS? ..
I dont understand, . . but in my confusion I pull up a very old
memory. A memory so old that it's not in technicolor but in black
and white. The memory flickers from time to time and people stop
to wipe the dust spots and pieces of lint from their faces that become
caught in the projector. I am two years old.
Pa (I catch myself from saying 'father') was in a naval class after
the war . . And now I'm not sure if I'm describing the circumstances
for the pitcure has assumed itself at the front of the room in which
we sit. People in 3D black and white, sitting in chairs that might
otherwise be green.
A man in an army uniform has drawn a series of charts on a blackboard.
He is repeatedly overrun by lines in the film. The lines make him very
uncomfortable because they inevitably traverse his crotch.
I imagine that he often lies and is thus plagued by lines.
'WW II casualties can be depicted by the . . '
I lose track of his speech. All the curves move steeply up .. thousands, millions
of people killed . . . deaths plotted against . . .
My father now stands up..
Seagulls?!? How can you plot a man's death against seagulls?!?
All these campaigns . . and your politics and your wars . . only to
plot so many deaths against SEAGULLS?!?
He pleads with the other cadets in the crowd.
He is almost moved to tears.
They stare at him with expressions of stone.
He storms out of the room, flinging his flight jacket at the door.
Yes, I think. That was how it happened. Seagulls. And as I think it over
I find that it makes sense . . A Flock of Seagulls, Johnathan Livingston
Seagull . . and the fact that these birds do nothing more than dump
shit on the rest of the world.
lynn@pharmdec.wustl.edu ÿ