Spitball Army

…and I don’t mean the political theatre circuit.

Radicalactor.com is a website apparently curated by one Gary O. Bennett.  Mr. Bennett uses this website as a repository of short theatre pieces that he has written himself.  One of the scenes, posted on September 19th, 2006, is called “The Pitch,” and revolves around the discovery of a body.  A dead body.  The dead body of Larry Langford.

The lifeless character’s introduction reads thus:

WALTER: I understand that you were late this morning. You all right?

BEVERLY: You understand I was late. What do you mean you understand I was late? You track my comings and goings?

WALTER: It’s part of my job, ma’am.

BEVERLY: No. No. My comings and goings are not part of your job. What I do, who I see, what I say, when I fart and who I fuck is not your business.

WALTER: Yes, ma’am. It’s about someone you…fuck, ma’am.

BEVERLY: Excuse me?

WALTER: An actor, ma’am.

BEVERLY: What in holy sweet Moses are you talking about?

WALTER: Larry Langford.

BEVERLY: Larry Langford?

WALTER: Yes, ma’am. You don’t have to pretend not to know him, ma’am. The whole security staff knows that you and him are, I mean were, having an affair.

Beverly stares at Walter. There is a pause.

BEVERLY: What about Larry Langford?

WALTER: They found him this morning. Lying on Mexican tile in his kitchen with a peeled banana stuck in his mouth. He had an old Gianni Versace tie around his neck. Tied real tight in a half Windsor knot, and there was a bullet in his head.

Does this Gary O. Bennett fellow read and listen to our local media reportage?  I about split my gut when I read the bit about the Versace tie.  And I guess we’re not entirely sure what killed him: was it the tie, the bullet, or the banana?

Further on into Walter’s interrogation of Beverly, he comes clean on his opinion of Langford:

Look, ma’am, I’m on your side. I didn’t like the man. He was trouble. He was demanding. He was obnoxious. He treated everyone with contempt. If I could have done it myself, I would have. But I’ve learned, ma’am, that the mild little insults and put downs I endure all day long from people like yourself, ma’am, do not justify something so rash as murder. But I guess that having the important job that you do and making the kind of money you make, can change the way you look at…people…at life.

The melodramatic scene takes some typical potboiler twists, and along the way, Walter gets another dig in on the character attributes of the poor, defenseless corpse:

I don’t wish to be pushy.  After all, I am just a security guard.  And Larry Langford was just a, how do you say it, second tier actor trying to be a first tier actor.  I can see the headlines now, ma’am.  Warner Brothers’s President Murders Aspiring Actor.  We’ll read about how wonderful he was and how much of a shit you are, ma’am.  They will speculate why you did it.  By the way, why?  Why did you do it, ma’am?

Why, indeed.

I was just thinking about what I might post here today.  And before I had a chance to don my burlap sack and humbly pray for inspiration, this website danced across my computer screen.  It was a godsend.  Thanks, Man.

May 7, ’43
Friday  8 pm

Hello Honey!

I do love you very, very, very much.  Please be careful and take good care of yourself.  I’m looking forward so much to your return, and it does make me so happy to have you as mine, and to feel that you are a part of me.  I do think you’re wonderful and I’m not kidding.  I mean every word of it.

Worked this a.m., and then took Aunt Addie to another Aunt’s funeral this p.m.  Dad isn’t home yet.  Remember Uncle Sherman in Clearwater?  His funeral was today, and Dad went there.

Dad and I saw the most beautiful little bird last night.  I tried to find it in our bird book, but still am not sure what it was.  It was a rather bright blue, with yellow tipped wings, and a white breast – a very small bird.  Have any idea what it could have been, Sweetheart?

You can hold your nose on this one – but – did you hear that in a recent survey, it was discovered that radio announcers have smaller hands than usual?  “We pause for station identification!”  (wee paws)  Terrible!!!

Good luck

You’re such a darling,

Love,
Bev

About one afternoon a week, I go to local cafe-market V. Richards and have a meal.  Their food is so good: they use all fresh ingredients, the specials change daily, and there is an outdoor patio with a calming fountain.

Today, after a really invigorating swim, I went to V. Richards for a late lunch.  I ordered their signature club sandwich and some broccoli salad, got myself a glass of iced tea, and found a table outside.  It was about 4:00 p.m. and I was the only person on the patio.  I opened today’s Birmingham News and started reading, as I waited for my order to come up.

I wasn’t even two pages into the front section of the paper when a man and a woman, aged mid-twenties, I’d guess, came out the door and sat down at the table nearest to me.  Out of all of the tables there, they chose the one that allowed me to hear them breathing.  And then she started talking.

This woman had a lot to get off of her mind.  As she snacked on her plate of sushi, she poured her stories forth full volume at her dining companion.  I didn’t miss a word.  At first, I thought of getting up and moving either across the patio or inside.  But after a couple of minutes listening to the conversation, I decided to stay for the entertainment.  For the majority of the time that I was listening and she was talking, her companion had his left hand up, shielding his face from the sun.

As you read my reconstruction of the overheard conversation, imagine her words at an enthusiastic pace, with lots of excitable arcs and plenty of breaths at the most theatrically-advantageous places.  When he speaks, his words are like steady, purposeful footfalls.  In a monotone.  You might even enjoy reading it aloud, just for the fun of it.  And calling it a conversation is a bit generous: the scene more closely resembled two ships passing at night in the fog, where each ship can hear the other one sound its horn but never truly knows where it is.

She name-drops three well-known celebrity names that I found out (after a bit of Google Fu) really do share the relationships she describes.  Good thing I’m not a freelance reporter looking for some dirt to dish…or am I?

Here ’tis:

She:
So, he posted this gnarly comment on my page, I mean, I should have expected it but I didn’t want to post something nasty on my page as a reply. That’s how I got into trouble in the first place, by putting all that personal stuff up on my page. I need to be less honest, I should learn to keep things more to myself and stop exposing my soul to the universe. You never know who’s gonna see it if you post it on your page like that. So there was this really cruel thing he had written on my page, and I just deleted it and took him off my list of Friends. And do you know what he did then? Well, I used to be down at the bottom of his Friends list, but after I took him off my page, guess what he did…he put me at the top of his Friends list. I mean, not at the very top of the list but like at number two or something.

So I posted this funny song about it on my page. [She sings a couple of lines from a song.] And I didn’t like that one so much so I wrote another one and posted it too. [She sings a couple more lines from a different song.] I’ve written better songs, but these were just jokes, you know?

I just didn’t want to get into it with him, you know? It was really hurtful, and I’d opened myself up to him a lot. Like I told him about [famous musician]’s bass player trying to rape me, it was so disturbing. Like, afterward, it was like “no big deal,” but he was just so evil.

He:
Oh, so how did they know each other?

She:
He and [famous musician] lived in the same building, I think. But now he’s married to [other famous musician], you know she’s a musician too. Her Dad’s [other famous musician’s father], and she’s a really popular artist on her own. She probably doesn’t know that he tried to rape me. And her brother, he’s a musician too, I think.

He:
Are you still seeing [name of therapist]?

She:
Well, he doesn’t get paid, so he’s been seeing me for free, so I only go at most once a week. I should probably go more, but he doesn’t get paid.

He:
I’ve been going maybe two times a month, or three times a month. I really like it best when I’m going once a week. Once a week is best for me, I think. Yeah, it’s the best. I feel really good when I’m going once a week. It’s good for me to get out of my apartment and talk to people. Otherwise it’s just me in my apartment and I never see anybody.

She:
So, my Dad still won’t let me have any money. He said he didn’t have any, but now he’s saying that I can’t have it, so that sounds like he actually has some, which means he was lying about not having any money because if I can’t have it that means there’s some money there, right? And my Mom keeps telling me not to lose it when I talk to him, because if I get mad then I really won’t get any of that money. Anyway, she’s pissed off too, because she knew he had some money, and now all I have gotten in the last few weeks is that check for $1,700 and that’s supposed to last me for awhile. He says that if he gives me all his money now, there won’t be any left after he dies, ‘cause he won’t be around to earn any more so I won’t have any money to live on ‘cause he’s already given it all to me, and to my Mom.

He:
One cool thing that’s been happening with me is that I started to love my apartment. I mean, that’s a good thing, because if I love my apartment then I don’t want to move, so it’s like my home, you know? I’m really liking how everything is set up in my apartment now, and I’ve got my artwork all just where I want it. Like, I have this picture on the wall that, when I look at it, reminds me of San Francisco, Montana and Santa Fe all at the same time. That’s pretty cool. It makes me like living in that apartment.

She:
So it’s all the places you’ve had to live all in one picture.

He:
Yeah, it…

She:
But it’s really been a drag dealing with him, you know? Like, after the whole thing when [famous musician]’s bass player tried to rape me, I was just so angry and weirded out, and he wasn’t being very kind. Not as kind as he could have been, I mean, he had his needs too. But I was so angry. Even talking to [therapist] wasn’t a lot of help. He’d just say things like, “[She], you’ve got to either find a way to overcome it and just calm down…,” but that’s not much help. Not after you’ve been through something like that. And then this guy is leaving me mean comments on my page. You can’t deal with things like that.

He:
I’d just go to my apartment.

This evening on MSNBC’s “Countdown with Keith Olbermann,” Mr. Olbermann ridiculed an Indian man for attempting to create music by blowing on a leaf.  Come on, Dude, haven’t you ever heard someone create music – beautiful music – by placing a leaf between their lips and expelling air across it?  Well, then, check this out:

[audio:Kronos_Quartet___Perfidia.mp3]
“Perfidia” performed by the Kronos Quartet

In this performance, a one-armed Mexican street musician named Carlos Garcia plays the dreamy melody on an ivy leaf (leaf-blowing begins at about 0:55).  To these ears, the piece sounds as if it is transporting me on a downy cloud onto a 1930s movie set.  Or the Club Tropicana.  Truly sublime.

I have some wild ivy taking over a corner of my backyard.  There are leaves everywhere!  Why don’t you all come over and we’ll start an orchestra?

May 5, ’43
Wed.  9:30 p.m.

Dearest:  Am loving you with all my heart, soul, strength, and might.I’m praying and hoping that you are all right and that it won’t be too long before you’ll be back.

I really put in a full day, starting out by doing a washing; then cleaned the Venetian blinds; took the car down to have the oil changed (have decided to sell the car in July as have had many offers); came home and baked a rhubarb upside-down cake; met Dad at our McNair home to dig up the flowers, and then transplanted them in the yard of our new home.  So you see, I have been busy – oh, yes, practiced too, about 45 minutes.  Have a new piece for us.  It’s “Clair-de-Lune” by Debussy and very lovely.

Judith is planning on visiting me this week-end.  Prob. will stay all night with me as have asked her to.  Will be nice to see her and visit with her again – and then too, she is your sister, and that alone, means so much to me.

Darling, I’d love to be with you to-night and every day and night all the rest of my life.  Yes, I miss you more and more as time goes by, and love you more and more too.  I’m so anxious to have more mail from you.

G’night Lover,

Love,
Bev

[audio:Leon_Fleisher___Clair_de_Lune_(Debussy).mp3]
Claude Debussy: Clair de lune, performed by Leon Fleisher (2004 recording)

May 4, 1943
Tuesday  7:30 p.m.

Dearest Darling:  I do love you so much!

Did you have a nice birthday?  How is everything with you?  I’m feeling grand today, though did feel sort of blue on your birthday.  Just seemed as if I should be with you to celebrate the occasion.  It’s easy for me to feel happy though, when I think of our future together.  There will be so many things for us to do in life.  We still have so much ahead of us.

Took a book down by the creek last night and sat and read.  Then took a hike and camehome feeling lonely.  Yes, I do miss you more than I can say.

This was a busy day at the blood bank.  Took dictation all morning, and was alone in the office this afternoon; so had phone calls and visitors to attend to.

We’re going to try to move before June 1.  The tenant on Xerxes North said I could up and plant my flowers and tomatoes if I would like, anytime; so am going to do that this week.

Oh, Darling, I hope you’re all right – That you’re safe and well and happy too –

God bless you and I love you so
Bev

My own idea is that when He comes again it will be to continue his ministry as an old man.  I am an old man and my life has been spent as a soldier of Christ, and I tell you that the older I grow the less Christ’s teaching says to me.  I am sometimes very conscious that I am following the path of a leader who died when He was less than half as old as I am now.  I see and feel things He never saw or felt.  I know things He seems never to have known.  Everybody wants a Christ for himself and those who think like him.  Very well, am I at fault for wanting a Christ who will show me how to be an old man?  All Christ’s teaching is put forward with the dogmatism, the certainty, and the strength of youth: I need something that takes account of the accretion of experience, the sense of paradox and ambiguity that comes with years!  I think after forty we should recognize Christ politely but turn for our comfort and guidance to God the Father, who knows the good and evil of life, and to the Holy Ghost, who possesses a wisdom beyond that of the incarnated Christ.  After all, we worship a Trinity, of which Christ is but one Person.  I think when He comes again it will be to declare the unity of the life of the flesh and the life of the spirit.  And then perhaps we shall make some sense of this life of marvels, cruel circumstances, obscenities, and commonplaces.  Who can tell? – we might even make it bearable for everybody.

– Spoken by the character Padre Blazon, an elderly scholar of saints, in Robertson Davies‘ Fifth Business

May 2, 1943
Sunday  10:30 p.m.

Dearest Lover:

I love you.  This has been a very cold cloudy, rainy day.  Would like to be in sunny Calif. basking in the sun on the sand – you and I together.  It was wonderful, wasn’t it Hon.  Inez stayed all night with us on Sat., and so had waffles with us this a.m.  We took her over to her church and attended services there.  We visited Aunt Addie.  Seems like I’ve eaten so much today and had very little exercise.  I’ll have to do some hiking next week now to make up for it.

Last night Inez and I saw the Sportsmen’s Show at the auditorium.  They had some very good acts.  You would have enjoyed them.  They had many trained dogs, two trained crows (I’ll tell you about them later) and some seals, which were very good actors.  Fishing, diving, and ping pong contests were held and of course, there were many booth exhibits.

I feel very lonely to-night.  Oh Hon., I do miss you so much.  Please be careful and remember, I do need you and am waiting patiently and longingly for you.  Do hope to be receiving some of your letters again very soon.

Loving you more than ever,
Bev

Lou & Laurie
– I just heard that Lou Reed and Laurie Anderson have gotten married – to each other – after many years together.  No matter what you think of her art, Laurie Anderson always seemed like a very kind person and Lou, well, Lou Reed is Lou Reed.  Good for them, I say.

Leading by example
– The mayor of Homewood, Alabama, was exposed this weekend for giving a discount rate to the John McCain campaign for a room rental at the City Hall.  Mayor Barry McCulley immediately admitted his error – whether it was an error of oversight or just political favoritism – and pledged to get the city the money it deserved.  His first step was to ask the McCain campaign for the money; his alternate plan is to come up with the money himself, either out of his own pocket or from a benefactor.  The buzz locally is that another local politician is acting with authority that is not entirely his, sidestepping the chain of approval that includes the city council.  My take on it is that people make errors every day, willfully or not, but it takes a particularly humbled person to admit to making the mistake and to provide restitution (forget about the “political backpedalling” angle).  Birmingham’s Mayor Larry Langford could take a cue from Mayor McCulley.  Langford’s modus operandus is to steamroll costly vanity projects through the city council, blasting the civic goodness of any who might have an opposing viewpoint.  Langford made a show of “humility” this past weekend by spewing fire and brimstone about the city’s crime rate while wearing a burlap sack over his Nike-insignia’d sport shirt, under a large banner bearing his name.  Maybe these two should meet.

May First
– Today is the first day of May.  It is May Day, though I doubt I will see a maypole or a maypole dance during my travels around town today, or in my immediate neighborhood.  It is also National Prayer Day (don’t tell Larry Langford).  Today is Thursday: the lunch special at V. Richards cafe and market is a chicken caesar salad.  I had that for my lunner (lunch/dinner) last Thursday, and have rarely eaten anything so good.  There will be a new episode of Lost airing tonight, which I will watch.

Massage
– I have never had a professional one, but I am going to soon.  It’s time.

The Mist
– I have got to say that I was impressed by how director Frank Darabont presented this Stephen King novella as a film, which I watched on DVD over the weekend.  Marcia Gay Harden was particularly good, chewing the scenery (the interior of a supermarket) with all the fervor she could muster, though the character was basically an exaggerated caricature of religious fundamentalism.  But that ending!  It was somewhat shocking, but after seeing it I was overcome by a wave of hopelessness.  And then the movie ended.  Blecch.

“Race for the White House”
– While I work in my office, I sometimes have the television on in the background, often tuned in to MSNBC or CNN.  You know, the dreaded talking, yelling heads – and these days the themes are either politics or domestic slavery.  One new show on MSNBC, called “Race for the White House,” is hosted by former political correspondent David Gregory, and it really pisses me off.  Or, more accurately, I should say that Gregory really pisses me off.  He is constantly rushing his guests, barking commands like: “GO, NOW!” “HURRY UP, REALLY QUICK!” “QUICKLY, WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY ABOUT IT?!”  Irksome, at best.  Ironically, one of his regular guests is Pat Buchanan, who has made a career out of being a shouting head on radio and TV shows.  The only bright spot on this show is hearing David Gregory shout down Buchanan on occasion with some obnoxious vocal blast, such as “GOTTA COMMERCIAL BREAK!!”  I don’t know why this guy bothers me so much in this format, especially since I am such a fan of Chris Matthews and his similarly-paced “Hardball” show.  Chris Matthews has a sense of humor, that’s the difference.

Chlorine
– I approached the aquatics director at the pool I frequent to ask him if the chlorine level in the pool was indeed as high as it seemed.  He said, Yes, we’ve been having a pH problem.  It has been this way for at least five days.  He anticipates it getting back to normal levels within the next two days.  Have you ever spent 45 minutes in a pool with an excessive chlorine level?  You begin to grow cotton in your mouth.  You feel like your nose is bleeding, probably a minor version of what coke nose feels like.  And God help you if you aren’t wearing goggles!  My hair is turning dry as straw, and my formerly black swim trunks have become a strange color combination of purple and brown.

The exercise ball
– It is just a ball, after all, but the wide array of really effective exercises you can do while sitting on or leaning against this big inflated rubber sphere amazes me.  What an obvious use of a basic object!  I got one this week and, frankly, the exercise ball is kicking my butt.  Makes me want to develop about twenty exercises to do with an empty shoebox, then market it and retire with my millions.  Or the “resistor bands” made up of entwined plastic grocery bags.  Or the “push up stands” made of empty, upside-down cat food cans.

April 30, 1943

Dear Babe,

Am anxiously waiting to hear more from you.  I hope you are fine.  I know that wherever you are you find it most interesting.

I stayed here over our week of vacation and on the second day received the disheartening news that Peter had fallen and broken his right arm above the elbow.  Just heard from Ted tonight and I guess they are managing all right even though alone.  Mary Berger comes over morning and evening and helps with Aunt.  Neither Christine nor Bertha could come down to help them.  I can’t quite understand that – and here I felt guilty because I had not spent the R.R. fare and gone home for the week.

Wednesday morning, Miss Hotchkiss and I drove to Fargo and I stayed at Les’s until about eleven that night.  Then they took me in to Fargo where I stayed with Miss H. at the hotel.  Thurs. we shopped a little and then drove to Detroit Lakes where we visited with some former Staples people before coming on home.

We gave our Easter cantata “Seven Last Words of Christ” on Good Friday eve. There were four church choirs and the men’s chorus. It went off fine. It was nice to be here for the Easter services for a change instead of traveling. We had Easter dinner with the Atwoods and Miss Hotchkiss. Each of us prepared part of it. Our bond drive went way over the top. Our quota was $60,000 and a week ago it was over 99,000. Haven’t the last figures. Carl has been out spearing suckers (the only thing you can take this early) and we’ve had two swell fish dinners. Took two jars all steaked up to Les’ with me.

Have signed my contract for another year. Got a very nice raise although I expect there are much higher paid jobs. Hope you are well and happy.

Lots of love,
Judy

Write  [note: written sideways in the margin]

[audio:Haydn___The_Seven_Last_Words_of_Christ_(IV_Mein_gott).mp3]
“IV. Mein Gott, mein Gott”
from Franz Joseph Haydn’s The Seven Last Words of Christ (composed in 1795-1796)
performed by Arnold Schoenberg Chorus; Concentus Musicus Vienna;
Nikolaus Harnoncourt, director (1992 recording)