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waiting to climb the steps through the curtain

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Meister Peon


Anmeldedatum: 15.06.2012
Beiträge: 189
Wohnort: England

BeitragVerfasst am: Fr Nov 30, 2012 11:55 am    Titel: waiting to climb the steps through the curtain Antworten mit Zitat

We were glad Dean had written a book of her own, Every Day by The Sun, a memoir that came out earlier this year. We remembered her signing at the Lyric Theater, where, as a little girl, she accompanied Pappy to the premier of Intruder in the Dust. Crowds scared her, so she asked several local writers to read a segment before she talked at the end. We remember standing at the bottom of the stage, waiting to climb the steps through the curtain, and seeing Dean sitting on the ground, obviously about to melt down, and Larry next her,Spyder ski, holding her, calming her. They almost seemed like one person, and then, fortified, Dean walked out on stage and brought the house down. We'll never forget the feeling in that room — the way the town came out and seemed to realize that its emotional core lived inside of Deanie — and we'll never forget the even greater feeling hidden by the curtain, sitting on the ground near the foot of the stairs.
We rushed outside when word passed that the Chevron dimmed its lights in memory of Dean. We're still not sure if that actually happened; we arrived in the yard too late. We drank the Four Roses. Then we drank the Jack Daniel's. We drank from the bottle until the whiskey was gone. We drank French red wine from Johnny Vaught tumblers. At some point, there was a long, elaborate series of puns about the unfortunately named Ole Miss football coach,Spyder ski. Is it wrong that there was laughter? We told simply filthy jokesI followed Broad Street out of Augusta,Spyder Jackets, past the dirty strip clubs and pool halls. The genteel houses on the outskirts of downtown gave way to an industrial-rural moonscape of neon-green brush and one-story empty buildings labeled "available." When he'd come home from town, he crossed the river near the stacks of the power plant and the rusted rail trestle,Spyder Coats. Beech Island, South Carolina, sits just over the state line, the cinder block barbecue joint and white clapboard shacks. The African Methodist Episcopal and the Missionary Baptist churches, like the one where James Brown learned he had a talent that none of the other kids had. The nearest little grimace of a town was called Spiderweb. James Brown lived not far from where the highway from Augusta crossed Atomic Road.
A chain locked the gates to his land. Tall trees framed the driveway,Spyder Coats. Everything looked immaculate. The caretaker still comes to work every day. Nobody knows what's going to happen with the lawsuit, so he keeps the place in order,Moncler Coat, just the way Mr. Brown liked. His name is David Washington. He was bent into the hood of a wine colored Town Car, working on the engine. His shirt, which said "James Brown Estate," matched the Lincoln. He waved. I got a message right when the gate came into view,Spyder Jackets. It was the booking agent in New York. I pulled over and returned the call.
"The response is not as good as I anticipated,Moncler Jackets," he said. "It's a struggle, to say the least. I think the group is a little too large and the cost of airfare has gotten out of hand. I'm having problems with the estate. They sued me for representing R.J. It's nothing but grief."
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Verfasst am: Fr Nov 30, 2012 11:55 am    Titel: Ähnliche Themen

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