Tags
s. was in the monday movements class. Renard had placed
him at 1.1. after a few months, that year, 1971. mirabelle was
on his left in the front at 1.2..
learning the movements with a beautiful girl at your side was a
memorable experience because everytime the dances
required looking into the eyes of your neighbor or simply
facing left, a thrill went through him. it wasn’t a weakness for
women. mirabelle had something very special, a beauty
based on a fine essence. Maybe also the intensity of the class
fermented some orgones. And it was mutual. he knew.
one day after movements they happened to leave the
foundation at the same time. out the door together and
walking down the street towards lexington. they turned their
heads towards each other. mirbelle was 18, s. was ten years
her senior.
“coffee?”
“why not?”
**************************************************
s. was still going to columbia university and living on grant
money and whatever he could pick up doing odd jobs, mostly
carpentry or indoor painting.
the affair with jan simons had ended a few months after
christmas when somehow he was the ‘santa claus’ at the
simons’ house in chappaqua, buying expensive presents for
everyone.
s. had really made himself at home. jan mentioned once that
jack had complained that s. was demolishing his liquor
cabinet and thinning out a voluminous wine collection. he
thought they were going to get married.
but it wasn’t to be. he had been there for the birth of anyikem
and had served a purpose which charlotte, jan’s mother had
devised. charlotte had shown an avid interest in the ‘work’ and
was soon to have an interview with l.p.. so, s. was sure that he
was “in like flynn”.
the gods must be crazy. especially the gods of love.
s. was surely in love with jan and took the rejection of his
proposal rather hard. and then suddenly, out of the blue
comes mirabelle who sends him sailing into seventh heaven.
now adopted by yet another family with weekends at their
house in new jersey, romping in the woods. making love in
the springtime air with all the forest juices rising. bathing
together naked in cold creeks, laying together in blissful
embraces on the fresh green moss, enchanted, in a bubble.
it was a time to ignore the pressures at school and in the ‘work’
and concentrate on what is good and wonderful about life…
love.
then, one night julie called from san francisco.
“there are too many children for me to handle here. i am
going to put jonathan in a foster home unless you can take
him.”
“picking jonathan up at the airport”
s’s father paid the plane fare and jonathan arrived at the
airport in early summer. at that time s. was sleeping in a bunk
bed at dr. shermans apartment downtown. sherman wasn’t
happy with the idea of suddenly having a kid around, so s.
began to search for an apartment for about $50.00 a month
which he could manage.
these rent controlled five story walk ups did have a slow
turnover. rothenberg was walking around the neighborhood
near the foundation offering $100 reward, finders fee, to all the supers of
these old brownstones on the eastside. all at once he got
calls from three different supers. none of them would take the
reward. john had an extra two to share. martin f. got one and
s. got the other.
so when jonathan arrived s. had a place for them. that was
good. it was the top floor on 62nd st. between second and
first avenues. what you call ‘railroad’ apartments. the bath
was in the kitchen and had a metal cover. then there was a
bedroom on either side.
mirabelle and jonathan got along fine and the summer was a
very pleasant one going from city to country and enjoying the
best of both worlds. jonathan was happy. s. took mirabelle’s
younger brother to a few apartment renovations while
mirabelle and jonathan did things together through the day.
unfortunately, this turned out to put a damper on the whirlwind
love affair, (everyone was talking). unfortunately the change
obviated the necessity to stop courses at columbia after three
years. that was hard. not to get a degree was going to be an
obstacle to getting a good job as an art director. now he had
the experience of 45 credits in studio courses, three years of
english culminating in a graduate class that met in the
apartment of the head of the english department. s. had made
notable strides under humphries’s tutelage. but could he get a
Movements,yes, I remember doing them for a bit, good to see your back to your autobiography,
hi, jon. yeah, finally got a little breathing space now that the 2013 calendar has gone to the printer.you know, it's funny how the mind works. at first you don't think you remember much. and then, as you go along, memories come pouring in. by the way, i was wrong about the picture. there is another picture somewhere in these boxes of us leaving the airport. this picture is in front of "the flying carpet". remember when we raced accross the country at ninety miles an hour with that arab? this is his monte carlo in the background.if i can find that picture i will replace this. but that's always the problem with time. can i afford to spend two hours searching? no. i will just wait until i come accross it again. 😎
thats funny about the picture, i have the print right here of when i arrived at the airport. i don't remember how i got it.maybe jean gave them to me a few years ago. It's framed and old looking.:)
scan it for me. i can't find it. :happy:
Mirabelle. I don't know when my Mirabelle will come into my life. : )
it's about time for you…. look for the beauty. then do the proper wooing. :sherlock: