Star Face by Lynne Holyoke
Blanka Amezkua
La Lutxona, 2007
Embroidery on fabric and crochet
Sâvitrî - the faithful wife (Edwin Arnold)
Henry Ospovat, from Heroines of poetry, by Constance E. Maud, London, 1903.
(Source: archive.org)
The Human Expression - Every Night (by heavenlyblueorange)
These are notes written in high school, probably during class. Junior year I think, 1966-67. Terry had a crush on Mark, and I fanned the flames. My influences here were the old Goon Shows, off the BBC, ( I think I heard them on KPFK, late at night) and John Lennon’s books, “In His Own Write”, and “A Spaniard in the Works”. John’s work was said to be reminiscent of James Joyce, James Thurber, Edward Lear. Absurdist, nonsensical, humorous wordplay.
Mark….the world is waiting for you (and so is Terry) or “You silly twisted boy, you!”
Has there ever come a time in young Mark Molander’s life when he wondered what he was going to do with his Molander Brain? An intelligence quota so high that there were devised special charts to measure him with, which still didn’t work and so now whenever (and it is hardly ever) somebody has an IQ of over 170 it is said “He has a Molander Brain”, then everybody will know just what you’re talking of.
Mark thought about his chances in the field of Mad Chemistry, thought about it to himself naturally, for he had to preserve his cool, calm, image.
“Heh heh heh”, he practiced his Mad Chemist laugh out loud, and to be sure, everybody sitting near him had a look and they wondered about him.
“Why is he larfing to his Mark self like, “heh,heh,heh”?, several were thinking. “It’s always the quiet ones that crack first.”, was thought by more than one. “Still water ruins a creep.”, thought one reactionary with a bad sense of joke.
These all made Mad Mark think again and even once again (for it was an idea he savored) about the Mad Chemist game.
“No”, he decided, “I’ll be a fireman like Daddy.”
“Hey gang, I’m going to be a fireman when I grow up!” he said, which won the approval of the crowd.
“Hey Mark, that’s keen! We know you’ll be a great one!”
“Heh,heh,heh”, Mad-Fireman-laughed Mark, this time to himself.
******************************************************************
The Garden Club
Narcissa Nash pres.
Cynthia Theta v.p.
Rose Finch sec.
Darling Darlene ?
To Treesa Marigold
HI OLEANDER LOVER!!!
Welcome to the Garden Club. You may now be called an officially credentialed FLOWER CHILD. Glad, aren’t you? Let me introduce the other members of our club. First of all, may I present myself, Victoria Rosemeadow. My specialty in the Garden Club is the Columbine Blodefir, a cousin to the Jaunus Lennwood, and a plant I am most fond of.
Then there is Vici Steinmoss, and her fave rave plant is the Robbie Dogwoody. If there are any more members, I’m sure you will meet them later.
One of our charter members has just had a blessed event. The dear girl, Cassanova Ellywood, has had a little girl. (Just last night.) Thought I’d told you before,
but I forgot about it. (Wonder if it will look like Juannus Lennwood?) (The plant she loved!)
Well, Toodles, and remember to water the clover. (Do your algebra!)
******************************************************************
Mark and Terry in, “Stranger in the Night” or “The Joker Went Wild”
Sex, it’s alway there, lurking in the shadows! When it flames up, it burns you. Terry knew she was playing with fire. Mark “fire” Molander. No, she hadn’t kidded herself. Sex to Terry was pure and simple: MARK! Her heart was aflame with passion, her soul was afire. She waited for him, Mark Molander!
Then he came.
Suddenly Terry had him to cope with, all that! What was he looking for in her?? She couldn’t help but wonder, knowing her reasons for desiring him. (Those sexy, sexy glasses were maybe the most deciding factor in her quest for a match. (“I need a light!” she used to screege.)
“The possibilities are staggering”, Mark thought sneakily to himself. “She’s under my thumb for sure!”
“No I’m not, I’m under the bed hiding”. Terry shivered. “He’s even more than I bargained for!”
“Terry, come out and have a cup of cocoa, (hohoho)!”
“Put it under the bed!”, she screeged softly (not to be confused with stupidly, tho that may be a matter of opinion)
“So, it’s a match you wanted…” Mark says, dumping gasoline all over de house. “Norweigan Wood, isn’t it good” he hums.
Fade out on flames.
To be continued (of course!)
In case your wondering, the material serving for my inspiration was the film-strip being shown in biology while I wrote this, “The Division of Sex Cells in a Salamander.”
The TAREY-FAREY
(Too rotten to be stolen from Lennon, but written by Lynne)
One daisy, looging back I recall it was a daze in Apers, when all were raining and cooming down frub the sky, raining heavily over our heads, all was verray wet with warty and all that combing down, well, I remember that ONE daisy when thee weather was as just decieved above a young girk named TAREY (sometimes she speed it TTAREY) was walking along, (heady nowhere really, she was jub out for the exersize) when she came to a sign that read (but not out loud)
“OUT FOR THE EXERCISE IN THIS WEATHY?
You must be kidding!”
After Tarey read this she puzzled. “Puzzle, puzzle, wonder who placed this sigh in full view! It must be meant for me, I see no other girks in the right vicinity. How queer!” (Really, whom does TAREY think she are, ALICE in WONDERFUL or somebottle?) (She might well arsk!)
“What am I?, Alice in Wonderfoul or somebootle like that? Whop is heffering? I wish nobody would tell me. I wish I was not all alone out here, together with only myself!” Tearys welt up in her eyes, and she became to sob, which only got her wetter than she already was, being as she has been standing out in the RAIN, like a MAY Dog, or an ENGLISH MEN or a MIDDAY SON! or something. (I rather favor “Rotten Swine” myself.)
“Ah, Rotten Swine!” said an awld crone springing from behind the sign. “Why ,oh why ,oh why oh , Why did you ever leave Chicago?” the witch or somebody chanted to poor Tarey.
“I’ve wondered that myselves!” sobbered Tarey. “And who are you, anyroad, you awld boot who cackles at me. I do not like you cackling awld boot! Get away!”
“AWK!” say the boot, “I’m your TAREY-FAREY BOOTMUTHER. I’m hear to help you. ( You HairyAper!)”
“Help me? I don’t need you to help me, did I ask you to help me?”
“Yes, why else would you be walking about out here in the RAIN of an Aper’s DAISY? ( I might well arsk you, except that I already KNOW! SO THERE and AHA!)
TO BE CONTINUED (Mark isn’t even in it yet!)
Part 2 or “INCREDIBLE!”
“It’s incredible how I’m supposed to finish part one in 5 minutes!”
Thee boy (Mark) was meeting the girk (Tarey) all because of a magic that the Tarey-Farey Bootmother laid down. And it isn’t rainy any mo’!
WAITING for!
The story you’ve been hoping, wishing, praying and above all (see above) (all)
(was it worth it?)
It is called: A MARK IN TIME….IS NOT A SWINE (Ha ha! Clever, oh, clever!)
Scene one: A street cafe somewhere in Paris in the early 1500’s.(?) Sitting with a man in a striped shirt is our story’s mainly character, it’s TERRY! (Surprise!) She, singing:
“Oh sadly, sadly, here I do sit
I wish to heaven that I could forget
that boy who teases and hurts me so
for though I love him, I can’t tell him so,
Oh woe, oh woe, he does not know…..oh oh!”
(Picture of Terry here, with no ring on her finger! )(That swine Mark!)
Man in a tiger-striped shirt, taking plugs out of his ears and eyes.: “Oh Terry! I thought I smelled you! (Terry must not take offense to him, he is a super sleuth, his nose is trained to detect even the faintest whisper of Windsong.) “Won’t you join me in a glass of sherry?”, he says, taking the plug out of his mouth. “Oh, heh,heh, this is my mini tape recorder-camera and folding bed, all-in-one super-dandy, handy-duper, wizzie gadget. Cleverly disguised as a plug. Isn’t it? (Clever I mean.)(For the 1500’s it is) (For $15.00 too!)
“Sure baby, sure!”, says Terry, who is now up to her ears in sherry. (Make that “Sure baby, sure! Gulp! Slurp!”)
“You sent for me?” says Tiger Tom. (Super sleuth of world reknown!)(But don’t tell anyone.)
“I know you can help me, Tiger Tom”, Terry says with a knowing gleam in her head.
“ Oh GOODY, a CASE!” Tiger Tom says this whilst hopping up and durp, fern on one foothold, then on the othy. “Pleeze, control yourselves! (if you can, you twit!)”, says Terry in a manner to behold.
Epistle 2!
“TERRY’S FANTASTIC VOYAGE”
Tiger Tom and Terry (Not 3 people, but only 2, or one and a half-wit) have hatched a fiendish thingy in a despite attempt to reach an evasive Mark Molander (with one “L”, thank you.) The plan is for T.T. (not to be confused with T- hee) to pose as Molander and act as if he and Terry are doing their thing and groovin’ on it, and this they are! ( For Terry is almost believing that Tiger is Mark, so expert is his disguise.)
Terry: “I haven’t seen Mark around yet, but if you’ll promise to keep wearing him I won’t mind too much!”
Tiger (In Mark’s voice)(This is hard because I’ve never heard him speak!)(So who listens to his reports??): “He’ll be around somewhere, we just have to cover a lot of ground. Don’t enjoy me too much, remember this is only a job to me.”
Terry: “Spoil sport! Any way, let’s get going like we mean it. Cross the street and walk with me. Look out for horses!” (Remember, this is the Fifteen Hundreds, and don’t ask why.)
Mark Molander (really T.T. in disguise): “Ho there! Who’s that riding up on a white charger?”
“I saw that!” says Tigerman. “What a manner! Do it again, will you?”
“For nothing but money”, say Terry greedily. (True, she is a greedy swine, but full generous when it comes to giving money away.) (PLAY money.) (Maybe a few real pennies…)
“Any path, yes, you’re right.” (“I am?” says T.T.)
“It is ‘a case’, as you call it.”
“Waiter, another case of sherry for my friend with the case on Mark.”
“How did you know ? says the waiter.
“That’s my line, garcon, if you’ll look in the script it sez clearly on page 39, “Oui monsieur”, says the w-a-i-t-e-r!”,
Terry exclaimed, put uponly. (Put uponly?)
Waiter (whipping script out of pocket in arm towel, or towel held over arm. Tea towel?): “Let me see….hmm, 63,62,61,ah…39…..Waiter…..Oh mon Dieu! Excuse moi, si’l vous plait! Excuse! Excuse! Merci, Merci, have merci baby!” (Waiter fades into wine cellar.)
“No more sherry for me, thank you”,Terry began again (preserving a cool, calm image.) (In a jar of formaldehyde) while she staggered to her feet, put them on, and laced them up.(She had these handy holes in her shoes.)
“You were arsking how I knew that. Well, I had experienced a moment of wonderment at your perceptivity, but we witches don’t let each other impress ourselves, we don’t.”
“Perhaps you’d like to hear my plan?” says “the Tiger”.
“Yes,well…..but you see, I had a plan in mind myselves, only I couldn’t work it out. Mr. Tom, you were needed. First, have you a plan??”
Tiger Tom: “I happen to have just that! Will I never cease to amaze you? (aside) (Yes, but that comes later in the story.) Here is my plan:
If I should put on this Markie nose
and dress myself in Markie clothes,
wear Markie’s mouth
and Markie’s hair,
Markie’s glasses
and Markie’s “air”,
then walk with you around Paris
posing as Markie, with you, Terry,
Markie’s sure to see us around,
he’ll be confused,
we’ll him confound!
For he will think that I am he,
and think it’s him with you, Terry.
When you’re alone, what he will do
is think that he should be with you
(He saw it himself,
he and you arm in arm.
A moment’s confusion will do him no harm.)
Now that you’ve heard it, this plan you will buy
(He won’t want to leave once he gives you the eye)
I know that for Mark, this plot you will try
for you must do something to get your guy!
Brilliant, isn’t it? And it rhymes! All my schemes rhyme!
The man with the probosis nose, ah, Cyrano was his moniker….he has been a grateful influence on me.”
Terry, grinning fiendishly, then frowning fiendishly: “Uh, ‘The world is a stage’, I think applies,
of course I will do it,
I’ve Mark in my eyes!”
Tiger Tom: “Hey Terry! Give us a song, girl!”
Terry: “Gawd, you mean it?” (She bursts into song before he can even get in his ear plugs.)
To the tune of “She’d Rather Be With Me”, by the Turtles
“Some guys, never see the light
they can’t see that they are loved by me
This girl’s gonna get a guy
though the job ain’t gonna be easy.
Me oh my, thought I’d die there for awhile
all I wanted was a smile
and I’ll have him in awhile….
Someday, Markie can’t you see
That some day you’re gonna be with me
“Someday”, is what I used to sing
and the day has finally come to be!!”
Tiger Tom: (Rushing into phone booth to change into Mark Molander) (Of course they had no phones, but remember he’s a super sluth and not bound by any conception of time. He doesn’t even wear a watch.) “That was great girl, great! Ha ha ha ha , oooo, great!”
Terry: “You look like Mark Molender, Tiger Tom, but your voice is the same high squeaky drone!”
T.T.: “How’s this?” (He has inserted his handy duper super dandy whizzer goodie, and the tape recorder-computer has given him the voicebox of the veritable MARK MOLLANDER. Great isn’t it?
Terry: “It is he! Quick, kiss me!”
T.T. : “Do you think he’s ready for that?”
Terry: “If not now, never.”
T.T. : “Very well, all in a day’s work.” (He turns and lunges at her.)
SEVERAL HOURS LATER
Gendarme: “Pleeze, move along, move along, move along, move along! Theese ees not thee time or thee place! Pleeze people!”
Terry: “Did he see??? What did he do?!?! Where is he?”
——————-meanwhile———————
Mark (the real) Molander: “ I have a giant question mark on my head, what was that spectacle I was making of myself, and who was that spectacle I was with?? I haven’t had a day like this since I got lost at Disneyland!
Did my eyes disleeve me, or was I the one I saw holding Terry tenderly to me and, and, (gulp) kissing?
Me?” (He ponders a moment) (one hour later…) “Hey, Me! It was! Who else has a nose, mouth, hair, and glasses like me? No one else, I’m unique! Me and Terry…Glad I thought of her, wowie-zowie, what a brilliant person I am. Terry, well!! Yes….Where is she anyway??”
(Rushes off to find her)
Tiger Tom: “I told you he’s seen it already, stop kissing already!”
Terry: “Shuttup! I’m paying you plenty for your pleasure.”
T.T. : (resigning himself to his fate) “All right, I resign, but not, as previously stated, to my fate! I quit!”
T.: “Oh not! (choke, sob) Now the plan won’t work, and you look so much like Mark….”
T.T. : (Tearing off rubber mask, glasses, clothes…) “No! It’s time I revealed my true identity!”
T.: “Okay, okay, reveal yourself, but don’t go to extremes. Put this on.” (She finds an odd fig leaf and throws it at him)
T.T. flops over. (She’d thrown a piece of scupture from a statue and the marble fig leaf had got him in the head.)
T.: “What a quitter! I’d throwy some water on you, but there’s only this bottle of sherry I kyped. What a waste of wine..” (Slosh!)
T.T. : (Trying to rise and mubbering) “Give me my pay, I earned it all! My money, give me money!” (At this moment the real Mark rushes off to the scene of the swine and exclaims; “Terry, I love you, and what are you messing about with such a drunken bum for? Toss him some play money and a few real pennies and let’s be on our wait.”
Terry: “Mark! (Happy day!) All right baby….to the sunset!”
(All fade out on weird couple loping off into the beginnings of what will probably be the strangest night of their lives.)
for more news, this is to be continued, or forgotten.
A NOTE FROM The Writing Beatle Fan, Lynne Emerson
(also a Colby fan) Mighty, Mollander, a story stolen, in part, from the Writing Beatle.
Hello Terry, paisan! For you….Mighty Molander!
Mark is probably wondering what’s going on!
“I really don’t know woot tour make of these”, said Mark.
“Goob Heralds! What’s all of this going awn? Do mein ice desleeve me? But what are they doing??”
Terry wonders why Mark is not doing anything about her. “You certainly must Mark, what with me not getting any younger.”
“No point in her shouting if I’m away”, explains Mark.
Terry is mad!
“I wouldna haive you be you thee larst men awn EARSE!” she tells thee world.
Mark say, “Goody Griff, which artery in heffer, Harold be thy norm! Is these not that enid of the worm? Surely to goosestep I am not that larst man on Earn? “ Mark fell suddy to the ground weefy and whaley, crizeling tuber lawn aboove to savfre him. “I will give awl my wordy possessions, awl me foren stabs, awl me classicon rechords, awl me fave rave pidgeons of Humpty Littlesod, thee great nothing. All these, oh wondrouse Sailor up above, I offer ye if only you will save me!”
Terry was shocked when she came acroose him lying awn the floor thus crying. “My dear Mark!”, she screege, “Wart in Griff’s nave are you doing? Why are you carroling on this way?”
Mark raved himself slowly and sabbly locked at her. “Carrot you see Terry? Griff have end the world. Griff have ended the whirle. Oh Terry, wet is happening?”
Terry takes won loog at he with a disbeleafed spression on her head. “My Golf!” she cry, “ I did not say you were thee larst men of earn, only that I wouldna half you if you….but wait, I will have you even though you are among thee many offer mens around hear!!
They both link arbs and walk brightly to the sunset. They each laff to garter as they head for thee whorizen…which jub show yer….“However Blackpool tower maybe,
In time they’ll passaway.
Have faith in love, and BBC
Griff’s light make bright your day!” AMEN
Man bites bear.
This is my first post.
