Recreating (and advancing) pk’s censored domains: & / Personal / Stories / pk by Age / Art Publisher /
@ K. 2005 12 03
Re: 1976 or so

Gail and Murray Bruce threw huge parties in their gigantic loft: twenty foot ceiling, 10,000 square feet of floor space, not counting the roof space available as a terrace. This was the penthouse of Westbeth in the Village.


Westbeth became a city landmark. And there atop is the penthouse, like a bump on a log.

The party for the Name Day of the Bruce’s infant daughter Dakota featured an orchestra playing Mozart from a balcony whose arched opening looked down on the living room. Also featured in that arched frame was a song from the prettiest girl I’ve ever seen at the Bruce’s: and understand: Gail herself was a super model at sixteen, a Vogue cover girl, Howard Hawk’s Hollywood replacement for Lauren Bacall … On any given day I’d come in and the hallway would be packed with models casting for the next ad to be shot there. But this singer was on another level of beauty. She was named Annie: Annie York perhaps (or is it that I’m remembering that she lived on York Avenue? Could have been a pseudonym anyway.
Annie was unemployed. The party was saturated with casting directors, directors, producers … Annie was getting a rather huge private push.
I thought her signing was awful, the material in mediocre taste; but Jesus was Annie pretty.
[resurrecting 2013 09 20 I just Google-searched for “Annie York,” “Annie Days of our Lives”: plenty of pretty blonds but not my Annie.]

After that she appeared at the parties regularly. The next time I saw her I went over to say Hi and make small talk. I remembered that she’d been hoping for a job. Whatever string of things I said to her included a hint that she could say what she was up to.
“Do you watch the soaps?” Annie asked me.
Does pk watch the soaps? My sister watched the soaps. My father watched the soaps. When my sister brought a fiancée home from the University of Ohio, and our father was fetched from family obscurity to be introduced, Dad spent the time catching Beth up on the soaps. That’s OK, I was no where in hearing. When we were kids I couldn’t even stand all the radio shows Beth listened to.
Does pk watch the soaps? You must understand that intellectual pk, the founder of FLEX (and therefore the inventor of the internet) wouldn’t be caught dead watching a soap opera. I’d let Gail talk me into helping her publish her graphics and distributing them in an attempt to recover from the financial disaster of founding FLEX. I needed income, not to stay alive nearly so much as to revive FLEX.
[My wife abandoned me and FLEX, kidnapped our son: I had little to live for personally: but I’d promised God to serve deschooling with my last breath: so, I had no choice but to try to live.]
[Now: subtract Jimmy Stewart from Bellows Falls, and we see what happens: subtract me from this earth, and the road forks: the real world would be totally different without a pretense of cybernetic free information, people thinking they can say anything, advertise anything, without the cops offing them; but then there’s the pretend world, the theoretically world, the world documented by the kleptocracy’s documents: there I made no difference at all, other than to occupy space in jail.]

Formula Writing

Driving around Pennsylvania, peddling Gail’s (and other) work, I’d stopped at a bar in Bryn Mawr to find a phone to call a gallery and tell them that I was mere minutes away. The bartender produced a phone right at the bar, so long as my call was local, and I caught part of a soap opera while I leafed through my notebook for the number. I got the gist, and used it to answer Annie.
I told her that I’d once heard enough to believe that I could write soap operas. All I had to do was keep iterating certain words: wedding, affair, divorce, husband, wife, pregnant, mistress, lover, cancer, doctor, hospital …
Annie smiled her little smile in her fair blond face: and said not much further.
A moment later some breathless young man I’d never seen before rushed up.

“Annie!” he said.
“Yes,” said Annie.
“You’re Annie!” he said.
“Yes,” said Annie.
“Annie, on Days of Our Lives!
“Yes,” said Annie.

And the guy, and Annie, proceeded to babble away about the show.
So. That answered my question. Annie had found a job.
(And they gave her her own name.)

Stories by Age by Theme by Others

About pk

Seems to me that some modicum of honesty is requisite to intelligence. If we look in the mirror and see not kleptocrats but Christians, we’re still in the same old trouble.
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