MOTHER MAY I

        Do I attract you? Do I repulse you with my queasy smile?                                                 Am I too dirty? Am I too flirty? Do I like what you like?

      I could be wholesome! I could be loathsome! I guess I’m a little bit shy…                             Why don’t you like me!? Why don’t you LIKE me without making me try?

Arienette was inside, going over lessons…

Children were playing outside- she saw them from her window. Neighbors, actually, and that attention span had been hopelessly caught on the game they’d been partaking in. One girl would run at the group, hands held out ahead of her, until she’d plant a touch on any of the others racing away from her. The tapped child would spin right around, and a whole swarm of pig tails and overalls would methodically shift to be curling away from the impacted boy, made Arienette think of how flocks of birds spun about all together in the sky…

              Give the camera it’s taste and the Devil his mile–                                                sell your soul for the role and your heart for a smile.

EXTRA EXTRA : READ ALL ABOUT IT : ARI STARLING IS AT IT AGAIN, WHAT WILL THAT GIRL DO NEXT !? WITH HER POUT OF PETULANCE AND ACCEPTANCE OF CASH, CHECK, OR ATTENTION- THE PERFECT ADDITION TO YOUR STAGE SHOW SOIREE OR PIANO BENCH BALLET !!

 -PRETTY FACE FOR PRINT OR SCANDAL || A DOLL FOR A DOLLAR- 

– MARIONETTE – mar·i·on·ette || noun, thing

a puppet worked from above by strings attached to its limbs. see also: DOLL, DUMMY, FIGURINE, MANIKIN, MOPPET

– ARIENETTE – ar·i·en·ette || noun, thing person!

page 22, your favorite cult film starlet, a music video extra 45 seconds in. see also: ARI STARLING, JUST TRYING, MOTHER’S DARLING

CALL SHEET ——

NAME: Arienette Marie Jones // ARI STARLING ! AGE: twenty-two HEIGHT: 5'3" MOTIVE: ubiquity. attention. approval. INTERESTS: the next big thing. piano. theater. celebrities. fame. getting gigs…. OCCUPATION: film extra, pianist, back-up, dancer, model, a pretty face in print. STATUS: trying; too scared busy to mingle, probably…

OH WHAT A BEAUTIFUL BABY !! indeed.

the advertisement read:

DO YOU HAVE A GOOD HORROR FILM SCREAM AND ARE YOU WILLING TO EXERCISE THAT TALENT OF YOURS BEHIND A MUSICAL COMPOSITION? 

and those that were willing were to report to a giant log cabin situated among the tall trees in  laurel canyon of the hollywood hills between the hours of 6 and 10PM. to minimize the attendance of people with potential ulterior motives and to maximize genuine interest, the name ‘frank zappa’ was completely left out of the ad.  arriving at the door to greet the auditionees was a skinny girl with clown-like eye makeup and a huge smile on her face. “you’re here for mr. z?”, she’d ask, “sure! come on in!” and she’d roll out her wrist for her fluffy-sleeved hand to be taken.  they would be led by the girl through the vast, semi-dilapidated living room of zany-looking humans strung over furniture — a musician here (mick jagger with his lovely company marianne faithfull), a film producer there, a couple of groupies (the girl group girl’s together outrageously), and some people frank definitely didn’t know doing something he definitely didn’t condone in front of the fireplace. a handful of that crowd clapped their hands in applause for the newcomer’s appearance. they would then be led down the stairs to the otherwise off-limits basement-turned recording studio where “the magic” really happened: where the magic usually happened, if it weren’t for frank’s patience running incredibly thin. he had plans for their album to be finished by the end of the year but had little faith in seeing it through to completion by its desired date due to his current line up of musicians’ inability to read music. though the end result was always brilliant, teaching each member of the band ten bars at a time proved to be no easy feat and if he’d have known he’d be spending his entire evening babying, he’d have went upstairs to baby his own damn baby. all he could do was chain smoke, chain chug (coffee) and pray that whoever came by for the part at least knew how to count. there was a make-shift waiting room set up outside of the basement studio door with two chairs, a small table, and ashtray to soothe your nerves. behind the glass stood the tall, mustached conductor with his black hair tied back and several other musicians sitting or standing around with all kinds of different instruments in their hands. frank had his right hand up in the air, swinging up, down, left and right in tight increments as he conducted his great musical vision, but upon his assistant entering the waiting room he turned his head around, shot daggers her way with his sharp, unforgiving gaze and, while not missing a single beat with his right hand, motioned for her to 'stop’ with his left. the girl smiled sheepishly and visibly cowered, turning to her client. “hhh-he’ll be right with you,” she said, patting their shoulder. “good luck in there,” and she scurried up the stairs, leaving them to their own devices.

There’s no reasonable way Arienette should have been so enthralled by it.

Perhaps that Jiminy Cricket on her shoulder isn’t keeping up his side of the bargain-- perhaps Mother needs to choose to stay in a couple nights a week instead of heading to the casino and putting them in such dire straights-- but fortunately for our Arienette, who’d regarded said meeting time and location as more INTERESTING than curious, not a soul would have suggested otherwise.

Well. Mother advised against the fur coat. Ari advised against waiting up for her.

The initial introduction with her Joker-esque Gatekeeper immediately tugged a string taught in her spine: Arienette stands tall, smiles brightly, takes the offered hand without hesitation... those fools in Eden had done the same with the serpent, but, at least this time there’s supposed to be something better than an apple-- “What a pleasure, thank you!”

And it is. It is entirely Arienette’s pleasure to be paraded through the mixture of decadence and debauchery, a poised and chiseled smirk across her face-- though eyes have a tendency to deceive! Hands stay so very politely clasped in front of her; keep from pointing, from waving, instead regards any regard to herself with a genteel drop of chin, bump of shoulder, even a blush when applauded-- but she stays precisely at her guide’s coattails, during the curious maze she’s led through... down, down they go apparently...

She didn’t want to sit, instead lifts right leg at the knee until foot could be caught on the edge of the nearest chair-- it’s still her chair at the moment. Attention and gaze is absolutely captivated, however, by the music. Strange. Different. If she hadn’t thought she’d already tumbled down some hoppy hippy’s rabbit hole, she’d know by the time her guide left condolences that she’d gone and hit rock bottom. Might have even dented an antenna, lost the little bit of sense left in her... maybe Arienette should be working to look more pleasant: but the act is dropped as pout contorts in thought, eyes narrow to a considering squint... 

it’s different, that’s for sure. perhaps as INTERESTING as she’d thought it would be. this is perfect.