Dad Draws For My New Project
These are my dad's illustrations for the first story in a new collection I am working on. This story is titled BEING QUIET WITH LOUISE. For more of my dad's work visit charlesprentiss.com.
FRENCH KISS FROM LITTLE LOUIE
(new story)
Tonight we're going dancing. We're going to a club that plays something called Dubstep. AC told me about Dubstep, he tells me about everything, he tells me about all kinds of music, including drum and bass, electro, and soul music for monday nights while he cooks me dinner. He knows which music is for which occasion and he knows that tonight we need Dubstep. We are at the club and the Dubstep is happening. A DJ with one hand on one ear is playing Dubstep and we are already dancing even though we haven't even gotten on the floor yet. We haven't gotten our drinks yet, now we're getting our drinks, I get a vodka soda because of the calories, AC gets a vodka Red Bull because of the mood he's in, and our shoulders are moving a little bit, and we know they are about to start moving all the way.
THIS IS FRENCH KISS FROM LITTLE LOUIE, AC shouts down the bar, into my ear. ITS AN OLDER TRACK. THE BRITS LOVE HIM. KIDS HERE DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT'S UP. I am feeling good and AC's voice telling me what song it is makes me feel good, like I know what's up, like I know this music and have known it for a long time, like I own it. AC makes his own music that sounds like this music and he makes it all night, while I am trying to sleep. The only thing is, I am not really trying to sleep because what I am trying to do is hear AC's music through the wall that separates our bedrooms and through the headphones that separate his ears from the air in the room. THIS SONG IS MORE ACADEMIC, AC says loudly, sipping from his small glass as the track changes into something more thumping, more smooth. ACADEMIC DUBSTEP, he says. I look up at him. I start moving my hips.
ONE OF THE ORIGINAL GODFATHERS OF HOUSE MUSIC, AC is saying, and at the same time a guy with narrow jeans and an ambiguous haircut is placing a yellow pill in my hand, which is clammy. I hold onto his finger when he places it in my palm. I squeeze it. The pill feels wet and hot, it feels like the yellow will be smudged on my palm, like the color of a melting M&M. Tonight we're going dancing, I am saying to myself. Tonight we're going dancing. I imagine AC's voice saying it, his big hands on my shoulders, he's looking straight into my eyes. THUNDER CAT, he is saying. THUNDER CAT! I am doing two things at once. I am listening and swallowing. I am also grabbing backwards, grabbing for the guy who gave me the pill, but he is gone, lost into the crowd where he came from. My vodka soda tastes like my mood does: bright and toxic. The song that is playing now says: WE ARE GOING TO UTOPIA AND NEVER COMING BACK. It is saying YOU AND ME WILL ALWAYS BE HUMAN BEINGS. AC is saying: WE NEED TO MOVE TO LONDON, SUZIE. WE NEED TO GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE.
On the dance floor: bodies are moving in ways I've never seen. Arms are monkey's arms, hips are snakes, legs are tribes in Africa. THIS IS REAL DUB, AC says, and then he starts going wild. I love it when AC goes wild: he is all over the place, jumping, throwing one of his fists in the air with the beat, hitting the ground with his palms, spinning on his toes. His floppy hair spins with him, doing its own dance. I get the feeling, too, and I put my fist in the air like AC's. I do what he does, I spin and freak out. The vodka is making me feel wild and calm at the same time. Dub Step is beating inside of me, and AC is starting to sweat. The pill is beginning to work, I can feel its yellow electricity starting to move through my blood. While I am dancing I am thinking about nothing, which is the most refreshing thing to think about.
The next song is Caribbean or something and it sounds like we are on the islands. I feel like I am on an island, just me and AC on a little strip of sand in a green sea. AC is saying something about RECORDING THIS TRACK IN TWO DAYS and I am about to go swimming. I am about to dive into some teal aqua marine sparkle water in a bikini, my first bikini, the first time I can feel the sun and the water on my stomach, the first time there is anything to cover up on top, the first time AC makes fun of me about growing up, saying the word PUBERTY for days and days, over and over again, PUBERTY in the hotel room with the plumerias in a ceramic jar, PUBERTY in the restaurants with the fountain sodas, PUBERTY on the sand on our towels. I hate that word PUBERTY and I tell him to stop, which just makes him keep saying it, more and more, PUBERTY more and more. Finally, once we are in the water so he won't be able to tell that my face is wet, I cry, my salty tears mixing with the ocean water, and I cry because I don't want puberty, I don't want to ever stop swimming, I don't want to stay in a different hotel room than mom and dad, because soon one of them will be gone, soon one of them won't belong to us anymore, soon we won't ever be able to crawl in their bed, soon we will be too big, me and AC with bare feet, crawling in at the foot of the bed, smelling their naked bodies, getting sand on the sheets.
AC takes my hand and spins me around. He's talking to me, telling me about this song, saying SUZIE, YOU'LL LOVE THIS ONE, DOESN'T THIS ONE FEEL LIKE THERE IS WATER RUMBLING UNDERNEATH IT, DO YOU HEAR THAT BASS? I am spinning, swimming, deep in my blue, and the song is saying I'M COMIN HOME I'M COMIN HOME.
THE VHS MOVIE OF OUR LIVES
Sometimes the VHS movie of our lives is in fast forward sometimes the VHS movie of our lives gets all tangled up and you have to put your pointer finger in the little hole and twist sometimes the VHS movie of our lives feels like the best oldest heaviest promise sometimes the VHS movie of our lives is too high pitched. We want the VHS movie of our lives to include each other, or at least two actors who resemble us, in a field of dry grass, looking up at the sky in slow motion, and the picture will have a grainy quality, the kind of quality we like in a person, the kind of quality we like in a life.
Section from a section of "We Are So Beautiful To Us", a new/old project.
Last Call
Join us in the studios of LMCC’s Workspace artists and writers-in-residence for an opening reception, open hours, and a reading! Representing all media and genres—from painting and sculpture to installation, photography, video, and performance; from poetry and fiction to playwriting and creative non-fiction—artists and writers will present the work they’ve been making since the start of their residencies in September 2010.
In partnership with downtown’s generous real estate community, since 1997 Workspace, LMCC’s 9-month residency program, has provided valuable space, time, and community for experimentation, professional development, and dialogue to emerging visual artists and writers.
Dates & Times
Friday, May 13
Opening Reception: 7-9PM
Saturday, May 14
Open Hours: 12–5PM
Open Texts, Readings and Performances by our Writers-in-Residence: 5-7PM
Sunday, May 15
Open Hours: 12–5PM
Location
Workspace Studios
125 Maiden Lane, 14th Floor
All events are free and open to the public.
RSVP is required for all events.
For more information about the program, including biographies of our current residents, and to RSVP for events please visit our website: http://www.lmcc.net/residencies/workspace/open_studio_weekend/
Visual Artists-in-Residence
Leah Beeferman
caraballo-farman
Jonathan Ehrenberg
Kianga K. Ford
Meghan Gordon
Janelle Iglesias
Sara Jordenö
Chelsea Knight
Siobhan McBride
Eve Morgenstern
Shana Moulton
Olek
Ryan Schneider
Edgar Serrano
Curver Thoroddsen
Jason Villegas
Bryan Zanisnik
Writers-in-Residence
Barbara Cassidy
Jibade-Khalil Huffman
Elaine H. Kim
Stephen Motika
Molly Prentiss
Melissa Seley
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