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Post by Salome Weil on Mar 6, 2005 22:54:18 GMT -5
The International Coalition of Anarchists does not give orders or set rules. But, they do give the resources needed to spread anarchist ideas. I send in a request to see if they will send me to America so I can meet with Nea and John before the meeting. In the meatime, I continue to work at the factory in Lyon.
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Post by Lan Zheng-Lafleur on Mar 6, 2005 23:02:17 GMT -5
After work, I agree to go to dinner with some Italian diplomats. We leave the UN building and travel to their favorite restuarant, an upscale Italian restaurant know for its Pasta Primavera. We are seated and I look over the menu.
"I am uncertain what can be done to enforce International law on America. The UN needs reforms. Before my term is over, I would like to see the abolition of the Security Council entirely, since it is long obsolete and keeps power within the UN imbalanced..."
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Bella
Party Sympathizer
Christian/Singer
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Posts: 21
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Post by Bella on Mar 6, 2005 23:14:41 GMT -5
Three paintings later, Mrs. Malone glances at her watch and realizes that all of life can't be spent in a coffee shop if one wishes to remain employed. She walks home and showers, drying her hair and applying the dark makeup and shimery face powder that would help her to be who she needed to be at work. Grabbing her garment bag and a navy blue dress, she catches the bus at the corner and heads down to Vincent's on 42nd, where all of the high powered men and women of society dine for what a normal family could spend on groceries for an entire week.
Mrs. Malone slips in through the back door and then slips into the staff bathroom where she slips into her sparkly navy blue dress. Ruby lips checked, and vocalizes reaching up into the upper octaves, she walks out and stands next to the full length, black grand piano and the man who would play it, Steve. Steve had already been there awhile, playing mozart and schumann, light music for the ears of all of New York's finest.
In dark blue dress, Mrs. Malone perches one hand on the curve of the familiar piano and waits for sixteen measures of Caldara to pass by before beginning in the key of A:
Alma del core, spirto dell' alma, sempre costante t'adorero.
A song of faithfulness and beauty, that will ask the listener to donate their lips for a kiss.
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Post by Alejos H. Coy IV on Mar 6, 2005 23:18:01 GMT -5
"A technology department? Oh, that must be great. That would beat the hell out of assembling weapons with Fascists at Military School," he said longingly.
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Post by Lan Zheng-Lafleur on Mar 6, 2005 23:20:42 GMT -5
I enjoy the Italian arias more than the food itself. I find it hard to concentrate on business we came here to discuss. Instead, I listen to the singer, paying little attention to the Italian diplomats I am dining with. It soothes me. My days pass so quickly. I meet so many people. I do not think or feel. But in this I feel my neglected reality stalking towards me. The gravity of my burried emotions is felt keenly. I begin to feel sick and light headed.
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Post by Valodya Bassarov on Mar 6, 2005 23:22:40 GMT -5
"Alejos, you are schedualed to speak next. Oh, and this is my friend Selja. She is a student with me at the University of Karelia." Bassarov explains.
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Post by Alejos H. Coy IV on Mar 6, 2005 23:23:49 GMT -5
"Right. Nice to meet you," he said, extending a hand.
(I'll give my speech tomorrow since I only have 3 minutes left online.)
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Post by Valodya Bassarov on Mar 6, 2005 23:26:05 GMT -5
(That's fine, the meeting will go on a while) Another speaker steps up, this one is a socialist from Uruguay. Bassarov turns his attention to this new speaker.
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Bella
Party Sympathizer
Christian/Singer
%\2\%
Posts: 21
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Post by Bella on Mar 6, 2005 23:37:55 GMT -5
The song ends to the clink of flatware against plates, and the din of the talk of well of men and women. Mrs. Malone looks back at Steve and smiles as he gives her a D, she begins singing the next song without a musical introduction. Her eyes are sad as she stares above the people's heads at the back wall where the waiters file out with dishes and trays.
Amarilli, mia bella, non credi, o del mio cor dolce desio, d'esser tu l'amormio?
The song is sad and slow, minor chords hanging losely and open above the people's conversations.
This had been Jacob's favorite song for Mrs. Malone to sing. He used to sit at the foot of their bed in the mornings as she was getting ready and ask for her to sing to him. "My beloved, can your heart doubt my love? My beautiful, my beloved..."
As she sings, the restaurant almost fades away, all of the people, the lights, even the music from the piano, and she is back in their home with him, singing acappella as she puts on her earings in front of the black-framed mirror.
Her heart suddenly feels five times as heavy as normal, as if it might fall through the rest of her body and land with a thud on the floor.
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Post by Sade "Selene" Sabastian on Mar 6, 2005 23:40:16 GMT -5
Selene grits her teeth, hard. Working for this damned floozy models got on her nerves. And being in New York didn't help... They always wanted to go somewhere public, where they can get shot, maimed or molested. Damn you! She'd likely burrow a hole in her head with some hot steel if she didn't stop treating her like a damn servant.
"Selene! Selene, come here NOW!" Clench fist, unclench fist. Breath Selene, breath. Last thing you need is a lawsuit for snapping Barbies neck. "Yes, Barbie?" "Get me a drink, and don't fuck it up this time, got it?" Selene's fingers itch to pull her Glock on Barbie but instead she turns her back to her and starts mixing Barbie a drink. But, still, she won't shut up. "You know, I dont know what the hell I pay you for. Your just some middleclass whore. No where as good looking as I am. You probably make it day-to-day on the money I give you..." Selene grips the glass then releases it and keeps mixing drinks. If only Ms. Bitchy Barbie knew Selene was worth more than what Barbie makes, she would throw up... atleast more than she already does, with her bulimic ass... "...your so fat. So imperfect. I should tell Sade she needs to hire more fit people..." Selene grips the glass till it breaks and pulls her Glock out of her back pocket. Barbies eyes get wide and she starts to sputter. "Shut the fuck up, Barbie! Guess what, you bulimic bitch! I am Sade Sebastian. And another thing, you broke our contract. Its says and I QUOTE "THE CLIENT WILL NOT VERBIALLY, PHYSICALLY OR EMTOTIONALLY ABUSE THE BODYGUARD! Now..." Sade visablly calms herself. "...I'd like to see you protect yourself from your stalker. Have a pleasant life, Barbie. Oh, and don't even think about stopping payment on the check. Then, I'd have to sue you." Sade hauls ass out of the house and into her BMW. As she speeds off to Brooklyn, she can't help but feel sorry that she left Barbie to fend for herself.
Sike.
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Post by Lan Zheng-Lafleur on Mar 6, 2005 23:41:23 GMT -5
The song brings me back to before the incident in Switzerland. I have thrown myself into my work ever since his death. I makes me sad, and I can sense that the Italian diplomats are uncomfortable. They dismiss themselves earlier than was intended, and return to their hotel. I am left alone in the restuarant listen to the singer. I wait for her to finish her shift so I can speak with her. I would like to compliment her singing.
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Bella
Party Sympathizer
Christian/Singer
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Posts: 21
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Post by Bella on Mar 6, 2005 23:51:00 GMT -5
An hour later Mrs. Malone sees Roxanne come through the back, wearing some shade of lavendar. She looks lovely and tall as usual. Mrs. Malone talks to Steve for a minute, thanking him for his lovely playing and then heads toward the back to change and catch her bus home. She will probably stop off in the kitchen for a bite to eat too.
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Post by Lan Zheng-Lafleur on Mar 6, 2005 23:53:44 GMT -5
After her performance, I wait for her outside the changing rooms. Since I am the UN Secretary General, I am allowed back there without a problem.
"I just wanted to say that I really enjoyed your performance."
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Bella
Party Sympathizer
Christian/Singer
%\2\%
Posts: 21
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Post by Bella on Mar 6, 2005 23:59:51 GMT -5
"Oh, thank you," Mrs. Malone does not know this tall, beautiful woman, but feels very underdressed suddenly in her bulky sweater and old, worn boots.
"Singing is one of those things that can transport a strange girl like myself to a time and place beyond mere rememberance. It is what I do, I'm glad you enjoyed it."
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Post by Lan Zheng-Lafleur on Mar 7, 2005 0:04:23 GMT -5
"It is late and my colleagues have left. Would you care to go to coffee with me? Maybe I am feeling lonely right now."
"My name is Lan Zheng-Lefleur, you are..."
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