Waltz of the Asparagus People: The Further Adventures of Piano Girl
Ellen is murdered in the basement, with a haunting silhouette of her perfectly pert profile projected onto a stone wall by a lone lightbulb that loops back and forth. The Evil Cane lunges into the frame and, ploomp , stabs her in the throat.
He knows how to tell a story with style. Like, artisticfully , you know? The attic-cam rushes toward her open mouth and frozen platinum hair and leaves her demise to our imaginations. I like to think she dies because she swallows the camera. She also does not look fat. Janis never reveals her real name. Harley Jane Kozak is my favorite of the seven sisters, mainly because she wears Army-surplus Bermuda shorts, always has a good book in her hands, and teaches me how to French-braid my hair.
A gloved hand grabs her while she is poking around in the bushes looking for clues. Eileen falls into an open grave, breasts first. And she absolutely, percent, positively does not look fat. The half-drowned housemother is a true menace, and Director Mark is milking each death scene to its fullest potential. After grappling with the mystery killer and the Evil Cane, I escape, run into the kitchen, and lock the door behind me. I rummage through a drawer, pull out a machete-sized butcher knife, then sit there nervously and wait for something to happen.
So I wait. The sorority girls are gurking, one at a time, all over the house. There are loads of teenagers at the party in the next room. Jeanie could go in there, get the band to stop playing that god-awful music, and call the police, but no, she sits there like an idiot with the butcher knife in her hands. The killer rattles the door to the kitchen, and then—smash!
Jeanie races up the back stairway, clutching the butcher knife. She cuts herself with the knife, sees the dribbles of blood on her yellow dress, and feels sick to her stomach. We can hear the killer coming, faster and faster. But Jeanie thinks she might throw up, so she runs into the bathroom where she can vomit in private. Not the bathroom!
Why the bathroom? No way would she toss her cookies right there in the hallway. Someone deal with the knife situation, please! Blunt, but still. The trick is to release the knife as I fall, thereby avoiding a real-life self-stabbing incident that would seriously jeopardize the plot but ultimately be great for the tabloids and trade rags. Flinging the knife endangers the technicians who are racing backwards on a dolly track in a very narrow hallway.
One bad knife toss and I could take out half of the crew. I feign a couple of threatening moves toward the Best Boy, just to keep him on his toes. I practice running and falling without my weapon until I feel comfortable enough to add the knife to my choreographed routine of run , fall , gag. After nineteen takes, the repair of a cluster of open blisters on my sandal-clad feet caused by the Payless white plastic sandals that were not made for stuntwomen, and injuries that will result in humongo purple bruises on both knees, I get it just right.
I finish the take, crawl into the bathroom while making gagging noises, and the entire crew claps for me. I even sit at the bar next to Dutch and Roy-Boy and compliment them on their matching plaid flannel shirts. I wear a long evening dress to cover my bruises and—in between sets of Janis Ian tunes and Beatles hits—I tell my coworkers complete lies about my glamorous life as an actress. The next bit, my big death scene in the dormitory bathroom, is scheduled for the following week at the Baltimore Public High School for Performing Arts. The killer turns on the showers, and steam fills the room.
Jeanie hears the first toilet stall door open, then the second. We wait. Scream, scream, scream! Squirt, squirt, squirt, out comes the blood. Red on white. Very dramatic. If only, if only. Cue blood! He also cues the effects people. Whack her with the cane. Knife to her neck!
Waltz of the Asparagus People
Blood pump, blood pump, blood pump, pump , pump , pump! Now, now, now! This blood pump is a big drag. In between takes I scrub off the pig blood, change into a new version of my dress, eat Fig Newtons, and lie on the lavatory floor staring up at the institutional-white ceiling. You think the girls are dead, but they come back. They come back as zombies! They float in the swimming pool! And then, and then, and then—get this—we see the head. What a thing. It will look percent real. I knew they would be shooting footage of my actual head with a fake neck glued to it, but I never thought they would make me put my head inside an actual toilet.
It has taken the effects team hours to glue the prosthesis to my neck and apply my dead person makeup. A biography of the renowned gospel singer who hoped, through her art, to break down some of the barriers between black and white people. Traces the life of the Baptist clergyman and poet who wrote the words to the patriotic song, My Country 'Tis of Thee. Very few people understand the magic of the sea Bogie committed many years of study and Delve inside the head of an Australian touring-musician signed to a major American record label.
Read about what it's really like, on a day-by-day basis, to live a life of music and creation, love and sex, drugs and alcohol, and After forty years in the spotlight as comedian, author, director, and professional neurotic, Woody Allen is a living legend.
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LOOSE TALK COST LIVES Robin Meloy Goldsby recalls her time in THE HOUSE ON SORORITY ROW ()
I can see him now, beckoning his army of hopeful Asparagus People, persuading them to break out of their glass cage and march, run, and finally waltz through the hotel lobby, dodging the sharp ankles and clodhopper feet of dazed tourists and drag queens, rushing for the exit, lunging toward the fresh air, determined not to get caught and squashed in the revolving doors of a different culture. Robin Meloy Goldsby is a Steinway Artist.
Right now would be a good time to listen. Twenty-three hours of solo piano! Play the piano? Bass Lion Publishing John Goldsby. Robin Meloy Goldsby Notes and Words. Waltz of the Asparagus People May 2, by Robin. Good grief , I say to myself. Maybe he was lonely. Robin Goldsby Newsletter. Last Name. Subscribe via RSS.
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