Authors: Jamaica Kincaid
Talk Stories (14 page)
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“Sting,” said the pretty girl. “Sting. Sting. Sting. I just saw Sting and his band, The Police, play at the Palladium. They were great, but Sting was incredible. Sting is what I really like about the new rock and roll.”
“Sting,” said the man who was her companion. “Sting. I suppose I will be hearing a lot about Sting.”
“Sting,” said the pretty girl. “What did I really like most about Sting? It wasn't completely the way he held his bass guitar. It wasn't completely the way he wore his mechanic's jumper. It wasn't completely the fact that in his face he looks slightly savage. What did I like most about Sting?”
“Sting,” said her companion. “Isn't it terrible what happened to him? He was walking down the street, minding his own business, when, suddenly, from out of nowhere, a large safe fell on his head.”
“Sting,” said the pretty girl. “Sting has such an unusual voice. Sting has such an interesting, unusual voice. Sting's voice isâwell, mellifluous.”
“Sting,” said her companion. “How can I tell you this? Sting slept near an open window and he caught a terrible draft, and now every time he opens his mouth to sing, his poor throat just hurts and hurts, and he can't make a sound. Gosh, I'm really sorry.”
“Sting,” said the pretty girl. “Sting is in
Quadrophenia
. Sting was the best thing about
Quadrophenia.
”
Quadrophenia
. Sting was the best thing about
Quadrophenia.
”
“Sting,” said her companion. “Yes, Sting was the best thing about
Quadrophenia
. Too bad about that big truck bearing down on him so quickly as he crossed a busy intersection.”
Quadrophenia
. Too bad about that big truck bearing down on him so quickly as he crossed a busy intersection.”
“Sting,” said the pretty girl. “Sting. The way he danced. Very cool. It's a pleasure to see him move around.”
“Sting,” said her companion. “Sting. The way he
used
to dance. Too bad that now his feet aren't even attached to his body.”
used
to dance. Too bad that now his feet aren't even attached to his body.”
“Sting,” said the pretty girl. “Sting has a very nice chest. When he came back onstage at the Palladium for his final encore, he had removed the top of his mechanic's jumper, so I could see his chest.”
“Sting,” said her companion. “Poor Sting. Did you hear what happened to him? He was chasing a stack of pancakes around a tree when he stubbed his toe on a tree root and hurt himself badly. Now he doesn't even have a chest.”
“Sting,” said the pretty girl. “Sting is the greatest person I have ever seen on a stage.”
“Sting,” said her companion. “Sting. Sting. Sting. Sting is greater than any living woman.”
â
December 24
,
1979
December 24
,
1979
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“That man over there is a popular journalist,” said a pretty girl. “He is at the center of things. He had an idea for an article, but then he saw his idea on
Prime Time Saturday.
”
Prime Time Saturday.
”
“I picked up a piece of cauliflower,” said the man who was her companion. “I knew it was a piece of cauliflower. But just for conversation I said to a man standing next to me âWhat is this?' and he said âOh, it's a
crudité
.'
Crudité!
Can you believe it? I mean to say, he was an American and he told me a piece of cauliflower was a
crudité
.”
crudité
.'
Crudité!
Can you believe it? I mean to say, he was an American and he told me a piece of cauliflower was a
crudité
.”
“That petite woman over there is a popular figure in modern dance,” said the pretty girl. “She did the dance sequences in a very good movie, but the movie was a big flop. She is the only real artist in this roomâshe and the man over there who is playing the piano. He is a bad pianist playing bad show tunes. All men who play the piano are great artists.”
“There's Bill Boggs,” said her companion. “Bill Boggs is the only sane man in America. He is wearing a jacket with double
vents. He is the only man in America who looks good in a jacket with double vents.”
vents. He is the only man in America who looks good in a jacket with double vents.”
“That man over there is a famous producer,” said the pretty girl. “I met him years ago. He took out a girl I knew then. He made love to her in the shower.”
“Right next door is another party,” said her companion. “A dinner party. People from a paper company. Perhaps they are very happy and will soon be eager to show it.”
“I have just remembered something,” said the pretty girl. “I once stood in this very room and a woman showed me twelve different ways to wear the same dress. She was from Japan. It wasn't a very interesting idea.”
“Blythe Danner is standing over there talking to someone who could be a jerk or who could be Francis of Assisi,” said her companion. “I have no real thoughts on Blythe Danner.”
“That woman in the red cowboy boots once wrote a long article about Stevie Wonder,” said the pretty girl. “I admire all women, even when they haven't discovered something as important as radium.”
“There is a reporter here from
People
magazine,” said her companion. “The same man, who lives in Greenwich Village, makes out our taxes.”
People
magazine,” said her companion. “The same man, who lives in Greenwich Village, makes out our taxes.”
“All the people in this room care very much for each other,” said the pretty girl. “Look at how interested each one is in what the others are saying. I am sure they call each other up every day just to make sure that not one of them is running a fever.”
“Those two people are from Italy,” said her companion.
“They don't know who the man is they are talking to. Slowly, and using on-the-spot sign language, he is telling them.”
“They don't know who the man is they are talking to. Slowly, and using on-the-spot sign language, he is telling them.”
“Unknown to me, someone took my picture,” said the pretty girl. “I can feel myself losing altitude. I can feel my halo evaporating in the clear winter air. I can feel my spirit taking a long walk away from me.”
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“There's nothing out there,” said the pretty girl's companion. “There's nothing out there except sometimes you see big ratsâthe kind that come from Norway. Or people in bootleg-cut jeans.”
“Rats have buck teeth,” said the pretty girl. “That is, they do unless they gnaw on something.”
“When I look at Rockefeller Center,” said her companion, “I say to myself, âNow, that's a tribute to something.'”
“I knew a man who used to take three teaspoons of sugar every day in his morning coffee,” said the pretty girl. “Three teaspoons of sugar. While he was drinking it, he said, he felt like Atlas. But shortly after, he said, he felt as sluggish as a mole.”
“Fifth Avenue and Forty-ninth Street,” said her companion. “I ran into a woman I used to know, and she had just spent the summer in Montana. She said, This summer and fall in Montana, four hundred and fifty-six thousand six hundred and twenty-three dozen eggs, two hundred and eighty thousand six hundred and twenty-nine chickens, and forty-eight hundred pigs were destroyed because the feed had become
contaminated with a chemical that causes cancer in animals.' I didn't tell her that that was not news to me.”
contaminated with a chemical that causes cancer in animals.' I didn't tell her that that was not news to me.”
“Talk about sugar!” said the pretty girl. “I heard of a man who lived in Harlem and for breakfast he ate Hostess Twinkies and cola soda. Every day, he ate that, and every day he went out and committed a gruesome crime. When he was finally caught, he pleaded sugar rush.”
“When I look at the Empire State Building,” said her companion, “I say to myself, âNow, that's another tribute, to an entirely different thing.' When I look at the Empire State Building, I make a mental note of all the things I really need.”
“I took a trip to Port of Spain once,” said the pretty girl. “On a banana boat. I ate a lot of bananas, I was bitten by a lot of fleas, and a man who drank rum talked in my face constantly. For a long time afterward, it was no to bananas, fleas, and men.”
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“The people here,” said the pretty girl, “don't like to dance to the new Joe Jackson record, or the new Police, or the new Talking Heads, or the new Tom Petty, or the new Clash, and they don't know how to dance to ska music. All the people here are older young white people. They like to dance to any Motown record from 1965.”
“Well, well,” said her companion. “Well, well.”
“Last night, I dreamed that I was at a party with all these people,” said the pretty girl. “The party was on the thirty-second
floor. I willed all the guests to go out on the balcony, hold their nose, and jump.”
floor. I willed all the guests to go out on the balcony, hold their nose, and jump.”
“Well, well,” said her companion.
“I danced with that woman in the man's suit,” said the pretty girl. “As I danced with her, I knew she was a woman in a man's suit. And I danced with her as if she were a woman in a man's suit. When the dance was over, she said, âI bet you didn't know that I was a woman wearing a man's suit.' I didn't say anything, but I thought, I bet you don't know that a potato when cooked has only about a hundred and twenty-five calories.”
“Well, well,” said her companion.
“This is my last party,” said the pretty girl. “Tonight, as I was getting dressed, I said to myself, “This is my last party.' On a cold night like tonight, I wear long underwear. Leaf-green-color long underwear. I said to myself as I was putting on my long underwear, âThis is my last party.'”
“Well, well,” said her companion.
“The next time I get an invitation to a party,” said the pretty girl, “I will say to myself, âAll those fish heads I have in the freezerâit's time to make a soup out of them.'”
“Well, well,” said her companion.
â
January 14
,
1980
January 14
,
1980
Â
Â
Expense account for press breakfast for Milton and Rose Friedman, the Nobel Laureate economist and his wife, in honor of their new book and PBS television series,
Free to
Choose: A Personal Statement:
Free to
Choose: A Personal Statement:
| (1) | Cost of transportation to and from press breakfast for this reporter (by subway) | $1.00 |
| (2) | Cost of clothes this reporter wore to press breakfast, including makeup and hairpins (wild guess) | $65.00 |
| (3) | Cost of building in which press breakfast was held | $40,000,000.00 |
| (4) | Cost of transportation to and fro for other reporters (off-the-top-of-the-head guess, making allowance for the fact that some of them may have taken cabs, or the train from Connecticut) | $250.00 |
| (5) | Cost of clothes other reporters wore to press breakfast (too complicated to make even a wild guess) | |
| (6) | Cost of heating pressroom for a couple of hours (an-other wild guess) | $10.00 |
| (7) | Cost of Milton Friedman's well-pressed suit | $250.00 |
| (8) | Cost of Milton Friedman's shiny black made-in-Hong Kong shoes | $20.00 |
| (9) | Cost of Milton Friedman's tie (with a pattern of Adam Smith portraits) | $10.00 |
| (10) | Cost of Milton Friedman's neat haircut | $5.00 |
| (11) | Cost of Rose Friedman's royal-blue Ultrasuede suit | $300.00 |
| (12) | Cost of Rose Friedman's blue polyester blouse | $35.00 |
| (13) | Cost of Rose Friedman's black mid-calf-length boots | $50.00 |
| (14) | Cost of Rose Friedman's brown Mark Cross handbag | $100.00 |
| (15) | Cost of breakfast (including coffee, cream, sugar, 6-oz.- can servings of orange juice, fruit cup, bagels and bialys, smoked salmon, cream cheese, tea, and two people to serve the guests) | $420.00 |
| (16) | Cost of press kits (including one or two free books given to press people) | $500.00 |
| (17) | Cost of phone calls made by press people from the press breakfast to the office | $1.75 |
| (18) | Cost of ball-point pen held by reporter who looked like the actor who played Dr. No in the movie Dr. No | $.59 |
| Total | $40,002,018.34 | |
| â January 20 , 1980 |
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Â
NEWS RELEASE:
GOVERNOR'S OFFICE FOR MOTION PICTURE AND TELEVISION DEVELOPMENT IN NEW YORK, CREATED TO ATTRACT FILMMAKERS TO THE STATE, HOSTS LUNCHEON TO CALL ATTENTION TO RECORD AMOUNT OF FILMMAKING CURRENTLY IN NEW YORK.
There were twelve photographers; there was Sylvester Stallone, wearing an ill-fitting double-vented suit; there was the former Miss India, one of the stars of
Star Trek
â
The Motion Picture
, in which she appears completely bald; there was Billy Dee Williams, with his hair lying flat on his head, as if it had just been pressed; there was a man named Martin Poll, a producer, who has a wife named Gladys; there was a man who could have been a fishing-equipment salesman, because he looked so much like a smart old trout; there was an editor
from Us; there was the woman who writes the “Newsmakers” page for
Newsweek
, and she had a lot of nice things to say about a stunning blond protégée of Mickey Rooney and a lot of not too nice things to say about the people she worked for, who weren't going for a picture layout with a mention of the stunning blond protégée of Mickey Rooney; there was a man who said, “Isn't Martin bold? He's producing in Italian and shooting in New York”; there was a woman who had just won an emerging-artist grant from the National Endowment for the Arts for her photographs of people at parties; there were quite a few bowls filled with ground raw red meat; there was a woman who had known for twelve years a man who has written a book on De Quincey and a book on Lenny Bruce; there was a man who said quite matter-of-factly that he had been a member of the United States Army Special Forces; there was a woman who left her handbag under a table and then, when someone moved the table, couldn't find her handbag; there was a woman who said, “See
Being There
. It is an American movie with an arty European feel to it”; there was a woman who didn't want her picture taken with Sylvester Stalloneâthe only woman who didn'tâand who wondered out loud just what Sylvester Stallone, the former Miss India, and Billy Dee Williams were saying to each other for the full forty-five minutes that they stood around in front of the twelve photographers having their picture taken; then there was Earl Wilson, speaking to Sylvester Stallone, and all the time jotting down in a small brown notebook things Sylvester Stallone told him. A couple of days later, in his column, Earl Wilson wrote:
Star Trek
â
The Motion Picture
, in which she appears completely bald; there was Billy Dee Williams, with his hair lying flat on his head, as if it had just been pressed; there was a man named Martin Poll, a producer, who has a wife named Gladys; there was a man who could have been a fishing-equipment salesman, because he looked so much like a smart old trout; there was an editor
from Us; there was the woman who writes the “Newsmakers” page for
Newsweek
, and she had a lot of nice things to say about a stunning blond protégée of Mickey Rooney and a lot of not too nice things to say about the people she worked for, who weren't going for a picture layout with a mention of the stunning blond protégée of Mickey Rooney; there was a man who said, “Isn't Martin bold? He's producing in Italian and shooting in New York”; there was a woman who had just won an emerging-artist grant from the National Endowment for the Arts for her photographs of people at parties; there were quite a few bowls filled with ground raw red meat; there was a woman who had known for twelve years a man who has written a book on De Quincey and a book on Lenny Bruce; there was a man who said quite matter-of-factly that he had been a member of the United States Army Special Forces; there was a woman who left her handbag under a table and then, when someone moved the table, couldn't find her handbag; there was a woman who said, “See
Being There
. It is an American movie with an arty European feel to it”; there was a woman who didn't want her picture taken with Sylvester Stalloneâthe only woman who didn'tâand who wondered out loud just what Sylvester Stallone, the former Miss India, and Billy Dee Williams were saying to each other for the full forty-five minutes that they stood around in front of the twelve photographers having their picture taken; then there was Earl Wilson, speaking to Sylvester Stallone, and all the time jotting down in a small brown notebook things Sylvester Stallone told him. A couple of days later, in his column, Earl Wilson wrote:
Sly Stallone was wearing a very dark beard. He looked like a great blackberry pie with a face in the middle. Slickly neat in a grey suit, he moved about quickly, authoritatively, at Maxwell's Plum. The Governor's Office for Motion Picture Development was giving a party for Martin Poll's new film
Attack
, with Sly as a decoy cop.
Attack
, with Sly as a decoy cop.
“Welcome back to New York,” I said ⦠. “Thank you, I'm looking for a new home, I may move backâif they'll have me. I'll be here 13 weeks. We'll see how it feels.”
I was keeping some pretty female journalists from gasping over him. He was busy but polite.
â
February 18, 1980
February 18, 1980
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