MARILYN’S ALMOST TERMINAL NEW YORK ADVENTURE
by Justine Ettler
“Chapter 1”
Marilyn is standing in the middle of Sydney's Kingsford Smith departure lounge waiting to meet Virginia Woolf and hoping that her new friend won’t stand her up at the last minute and Marilyn decides that if the deeply-enigmatic Virginia doesn't turn up soon she's going to board flight Q03 to Honolulu LA and New York without her.
And just as Marilyn thinks how typical it is of Virginia to fail to appear like this she notices a familiar form in a tweed coat and denim lurking over near a row of empty vending machines and in a blinding flash of colossal magnitude she recognises hairy-snail Lawrence as he glides towards her and all her bags across the yawning expanse of the departure lounge.
And when Lawrence sees that she's seen him he starts to glide faster and faster until he's actually running so Marilyn makes a desperate grab for her bags and tears off for the gate.
But Marilyn's only halfway there when she hears a ripping sound and looks down just in time to watch all her carry-on luggage spill out onto the white lino floor and as the I-haven't-slept-properly-for-I-don't-know-how-long tears well up in her eyes Lawrence is suddenly right there beside her gathering up all her things and throwing them into a giant-sized plastic airline bag and saying, 'Have fun with Virginia OK? Oh and don't forget to ring your mother you know what she's like any excuse to dial "E" for emergency,' all eyes like a possum and serious hairy snail concern.
And Marilyn smiles through her tears and then Lawrence says in a passionate husky voice she's never heard before, 'Bye Marilyn I'll miss you,' and kisses her tenderly on each sticky wet cheek.
And then Lawrence winks and cocks his finger like a gun and propels her through the gate with a gentle shove just like a B-grade actor playing a flawed hero in a low-budget third-rate Hollywood Disaster Movie and Lawrence's image is so terminally infested with white noise that Marilyn can’t help wondering who Lawrence is and why he's a hairy snail and what he's doing waving a goodbye that's so overcome by unidentifiable multiple wave interferences and of such poor is-there-something-wrong-with-the-satellite-dish quality it's almost unwatchable from the other side of the gate?
Extract from Justine Ettler's Marilyn, Picador, 1996. Email me at [email protected] for a copy of Marilyn's Almost Terminal New York Adventure.
by Justine Ettler
“Chapter 1”
Marilyn is standing in the middle of Sydney's Kingsford Smith departure lounge waiting to meet Virginia Woolf and hoping that her new friend won’t stand her up at the last minute and Marilyn decides that if the deeply-enigmatic Virginia doesn't turn up soon she's going to board flight Q03 to Honolulu LA and New York without her.
And just as Marilyn thinks how typical it is of Virginia to fail to appear like this she notices a familiar form in a tweed coat and denim lurking over near a row of empty vending machines and in a blinding flash of colossal magnitude she recognises hairy-snail Lawrence as he glides towards her and all her bags across the yawning expanse of the departure lounge.
And when Lawrence sees that she's seen him he starts to glide faster and faster until he's actually running so Marilyn makes a desperate grab for her bags and tears off for the gate.
But Marilyn's only halfway there when she hears a ripping sound and looks down just in time to watch all her carry-on luggage spill out onto the white lino floor and as the I-haven't-slept-properly-for-I-don't-know-how-long tears well up in her eyes Lawrence is suddenly right there beside her gathering up all her things and throwing them into a giant-sized plastic airline bag and saying, 'Have fun with Virginia OK? Oh and don't forget to ring your mother you know what she's like any excuse to dial "E" for emergency,' all eyes like a possum and serious hairy snail concern.
And Marilyn smiles through her tears and then Lawrence says in a passionate husky voice she's never heard before, 'Bye Marilyn I'll miss you,' and kisses her tenderly on each sticky wet cheek.
And then Lawrence winks and cocks his finger like a gun and propels her through the gate with a gentle shove just like a B-grade actor playing a flawed hero in a low-budget third-rate Hollywood Disaster Movie and Lawrence's image is so terminally infested with white noise that Marilyn can’t help wondering who Lawrence is and why he's a hairy snail and what he's doing waving a goodbye that's so overcome by unidentifiable multiple wave interferences and of such poor is-there-something-wrong-with-the-satellite-dish quality it's almost unwatchable from the other side of the gate?
Extract from Justine Ettler's Marilyn, Picador, 1996. Email me at [email protected] for a copy of Marilyn's Almost Terminal New York Adventure.
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