I left my boyfriend.
He knew what was happening.
I packed my brown colored suitcases, then headed out of the front door...And left Andy alone in his own World of words.
***
7th Avenue was full of artists.
I felt like an imposter amongst the writers, artists, and the cultural elite. They lived in rich Mansions; they sipped expensive, French champagne; they were looked up to as intellectuals. And, since I imagined myself as one...I decided to become an artist, and immerse myself in their company. And I would do so gradually...until I succeeded to be a Beatnik...like the Burroughs, Ginsberg, and Kerouac, and other people who lived their own dreams...while I broke away from one life...And dreamed of my other life...in the New Wave that would take control of me...And sweep me up in the glitzy, underground scene.
***
I arrived at a clothes store.
"Excuse me, Sir, but you're not allowed here...".
I stared at the man with anger.
"Is that because I'm homosexual...And my boyfriend left me...And your preventing me from getting new clothes for the party I'm going to".
"Well...".
"I do have money; I have rights. You're not helping me". I stared at the man like he was an alien...And I wanted to leave now...But this opportunity comes not that long...I was ranting. That happens when you're upset; you rant until you cry.
"I consider...".
Then a man arrived.
"Johnston, you do know the new policy. If a man or woman has money...serve them". He walked to me.
"I'm Nicholas Myers, the owner. My apology. If you want to lodge a formal complaint...", he informed me.
"I want a new wardrobe...Not to be upset by racists".
"Of course...Mister...".
"John Sutter".
"Johnston, you can have a lunch break. And read the rule book". Johnston nodded. He hated the rebuke, but times were changing in conservative America.
I saw some black colored beanies; black colored trousers; a black colored belt; black colored socks; black colored shoes, (that was polished); black colored sunglasses; and black colored ties. I chose everything except the ties, (my Dad was a Harvard Professor; my Mom was a Secretary). I saw the MEN'S CHANGEROOMS, and Nicholas kept them on the brown colored counter...as I closed the doors.
***
"So, I was here yesterday". Alison opened the store's front door. She walked like she was confident; she walked like a New York runway model; she walked like she owned the place. But her clothes weren't model-like: black colored beanie; black colored sunglasses; black colored skivvy; black colored skirt; black colored stockings; slender legs; black colored high-heeled shoes; red colored lipstick on her mouth; a black colored bra; and ample breasts.
"You're here because you want to find freedom", Mary Low also arrived behind her. She wore a black colored beanie; black colored sunglasses; a black colored skivvy; a black colored bra; a black colored skirt; black colored stockings; black colored lipstick; and black colored high-heeled shoes on her feet; and small, but firm breasts.
"Ladies, what are you like today?", Jonston enquired.
"You do have new stock for us?", Alison stared at the clothes.
"Yes, other places don't stock Beatnik clothes...And shoes".
"We're Artists, dear. We're outside the mainstream because we are different. I don't clean houses; I don't have children; I don't need a husband".
"But you're dysfunctional".
"Oh, you read Freud and Jung?".
"We all read them. We studied Psychoanalysis, and Psychology".
"And...Power".
I opened the changing room.
"I like this...Like a Beatnik Artist".
"John, you do look like an outsider".
I nodded.
Then I noticed two Beatnik women.
"Hello", I smiled at them, "...I'm John Sutter".
"Alison Dupree. This is Mary Daye".
"I'm glad to see you. I was going to go to a party tonight. Johnston seemed to be anti-homosexual. He was not nice".
"Is he still around? He is anti-lesbian too".
"Is he?".
"Yes".
"He needs to learn to manners. I want to live a new life in the 'New Wave'; I want to live now...". I stared into the huge, glass mirror.
And smiled again.
"There's a party in Upper Manhattan. You can come by, John". Alison watched Mary focus on a dress she liked.
"I'll take it!", she walked towards the black colored dress...And headed to the LADIES' CHANGING ROOM, and closed the door as well.
***
Page 2
YOU ARE READING
The Artists A Beatnik novel
HumorRobert Helliger. 11 November, 2013. All Rights Reserved. Author's note: This novel was formerly called 'The Intellectuals'. But the last word was too long, so I changed it to 'Artists'. In New York, 1954, a group of artists become Beatniks...And di...
