Courting Destiny

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3WW: effect, immense, shimmer: space chick with the electric hair: memoir

By

Thanks Thom for the words

“Mr Linky” is linking to this rather than this post

The Bronx, winter 1969

I don’t know where we are exactly. Some community with hills and old uncared for wood frame houses. Literally that’s what much of the Bronx looks like; the parts that aren’t all old apartment buildings in horrible condition, Riverdale, Country Club (the two very good areas) or Coop City the newish giant complex of buildings that all look exactly alike and unfortunately were built over Freedom Land–an amusement park on a map of the USA that I loved.

I’m not sure why I’m here either.  I convinced some friends to spend the night at Tricia Levy’s. She’s older than us.  Tough.   Shoots dope and hoops with equal vigor. She dropped out before I began the previous September.  Many of my school friends are drop outs.    Segal, student body president,  is in love with her.  He hates me for reasons I don’t understand.  He’s not with us.

Really I’m pissed at my off and on boyfriend, Noah, who set out to visit Tricia with some other friends that didn’t include me. I don’t understand why we break up every three weeks.  I found the secret to getting him back but I don’t share this info with anybody including myself.  It’s sort of subliminal.

We spend hours smoking dope.  Noah leaves with a few friends.  I stay with Jacy and Jake, her boyfriend, who I had convinced to come with me.  They go to sleep in a closet.  Jacy’s one of my crew of gorgeous girlfriends.  We all hang out with boys and happen to get along.  People type us girls as tight and I guess we’re as tight as any girls who only care about boys can be.

Noah’s best friend Henry who never smokes dope or does anything that wouldn’t be parent approved stays with me. I adore Henry who later I will hurt as I never hurt anybody before or since.  The guilt remains to this day.

The apartment has very little furniture but too much pop art consisting of straight lines, squiggly lines and neon for my taste.  I find a sleeping bag and get ready to go to sleep.  Henry takes a sleeping bag next to me.  Somebody hands me a glass of Kool Aid.  Too damn sweet but I’m thirsty so I drink the whole thing.

I wake up in the early morning.  The sun shimmers into the apartment.  The posters look immense.  Something’s wrong.  The lines are moving.  The colors are too bright. Everything’s moving. I feel as if I can’t stand or walk yet I do as well as I do normally.

I try telling Henry that something’s very wrong but I can barely talk.  Henry hates eating out, hates food really,  but for once in his life he wants to go to a restaurant.  I just want to go home and somehow convey that.

When I get back to school Segal finds me. He wants a full report on the night and morning.  I’m not sure how he knew I went to Tricia’s.   I’m better and beyond angry:

You want to know?  You really want to know?  I’m feeling the effect of Acid right now.  Acid that I didn’t f–king want.  Your f–king girlfriend. She gave me the Kool Aid.  I’m going to kill her.  Kill her if it’s the last thing I do.

Segal immediately becomes madder than hell at Tricia. He says he no longer loves her.  He falls in love or lust or something with me.  I let him take me out, take me to demonstrations in DC in his Jag, but I won’t sleep with him.  Never.

This is an excerpt that will expanded upon.

Comments

  1. ThomG says

    Pia, your style shimmers through this piece: Tough, road-weary, fierce. Too often writers get bogged down and you’ve shown, with this piece, a way to move a story forward with such style. I love it.

  3. RS Bohn says

    I love writing when it’s got such in-your-face, unique voice, and that’s what you’ve got. This isn’t unforgettable, this isn’t mundane. It’s kinda harsh, it’s kinda glittery, and I really like it.

  7. Bone says

    Some great lines, as usual. But I liked the foreshadowing — if you call it that — of “I will hurt as I never…” and the end.

    Tricia Levy — good name. Sounds like she should be in the news or something.

    And now I’m wiki’ing Freedom Land 🙂

  8. Jae Rose says

    I agree with the others..you have a great voice which tells the story perfectly..it felt very contemporary and in touch..thanks for your visit..Jae

  9. Jay R Thurston says

    A tough environment with an interesting collection of characters, crafty explanations, “Henry who never smokes dope or does anything that wouldn’t be parent approved.” I liked it, and am also curious now about Freedom Land.

  10. MichaelO says

    It’s been a while since I’ve done any blogging. But, I always enjoy reading your posts, Pia. You have a very strong narrative style (as others have noted) and stories like this have a strong sense of experience behind them. Excellent!

  14. billy flynn says

    I start out thinking I’ve landed in the middle of an old super 8 film that’s kinda grainy and been kept in a shoebox somewhere for 40 years, and then I reach the end of the post feeling myself accelerating mentally and really hoping it doesn’t stop…

    Good job, I’ll be waiting for the next instalment, hoping there is one!

  17. ms pie says

    69 was a very good year… setting up the timeframe loved the description of the neighborhoods, characters and story.. oh man, that sneak emotion abt hurting him like no one else… ouch, add to the sting of the story…

  18. pia says

    Thank ya’ll for your too kind comments. Memoirnoir–me like.

    1969 was an incredible year. This was one incident that has a sorta beginning, middle and end so I thought I would throw it in

    I could and would love to write the whole book about 1968-1970 but I need childhood stories for various reasons and I might go further or might end it when I left a small college on a beautiful campus somewhere on Long Island

  22. pia says

    I’m overwhelmed by the response to this little excerpt. it’s truly helping me go on Hope to be finished by New Years!!!!
    Not even going to NY for any holiday
    Thank ya’ll

  28. mark says

    Judas Priest…I felt like I was reading a black and white piece of prose, with deep shadows that hinted rather than stated. Elegantly sparse and damned good writing.