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Back Loudermilk Save as PDF
Chapters (60)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Personae
  4. I: Early Days
  5. One. Control
  6. Two. Doubt
  7. Three. Fate
  8. Four. Same
  9. Five. Fine Arts
  10. Six. In Loco Parentis
  11. Seven. Settling
  12. Eight. Neighbors
  13. Nine. Prospects
  14. Ten. The Lucky
  15. Eleven. Instruction
  16. Twelve. Same
  17. Thirteen. This Is a Pipe
  18. Fourteen. This Is Not a Pipe
  19. Fifteen. The Reason
  20. Sixteen. That Person
  21. Seventeen. Predictably
  22. II: Writing Teacher
  23. Eighteen. Early Poems
  24. Nineteen. Motivation
  25. Twenty. Allegory
  26. Twenty-One. Grief
  27. Twenty-Two. A Portrait
  28. Twenty-Three. Veils
  29. Twenty-Four. Soft Power
  30. Twenty-Five. Lists
  31. Twenty-Six. A Break
  32. Twenty-Seven. Elsewhere
  33. Twenty-Eight. Custom
  34. Twenty-Nine. Parity
  35. Thirty. Fortune
  36. III: Volta
  37. Thirty-One. Images
  38. Thirty-Two. A Very Interesting Young Man
  39. Thirty-Three. Letters
  40. Thirty-Four. We Prefer to See Ourselves Living
  41. Thirty-Five. Love
  42. Thirty-Six. The Iceberg
  43. IV: Your Best Reader
  44. Thirty-Seven. A Novelist
  45. Thirty-Eight. In Advance of the Broken Arm
  46. Thirty-Nine. Their Penultimate Encounter
  47. Forty. Détente
  48. Forty-One. Worlds
  49. Forty-Two. Recognition
  50. Forty-Three. Persistence
  51. Forty-Four. And Then
  52. Forty-Five. Mingling
  53. Forty-Six. You
  54. Forty-Seven. Persona
  55. Forty-Eight. Est et Non
  56. Forty-Nine. The Author
  57. Epilogue
  58. Afterword: The Libertine
  59. Acknowledgments
  60. About the Authors

What is freaky, though, is that tonight of all nights, night of PROM ’04 CONSPICUOUS, surely destined to be one unshy soiree, Lizzie has just moments ago observed her father crawl from the dinner table with a tumbler of whiskey to ensconce himself in his leathery man cave with the supposedly subversive pabulum of Comedy Central. Until his enrollment numbers improve, he’s in the doghouse, big-time. Her mom is pointedly addressing herself to dishes.

Lizzie takes one brief look at this scenario and hops upstairs. She’s rapidly in her room and considers her television along with her computer. Maybe one of these devices can save her from herself! But the prospect of re-watching Clueless or messaging with Des Moines skaters only further convinces her of the need to execute her cherished plan. There’s just this undeniable matter of a certain boy whose name rhymes with “powder ilk,” or “chowder silk,” and kind of also with “redder elk,” along with other variants? (Lizzie is not the child of two poets for nothing.) He really needs to know what she’s all about. O Loudermilk, who are currently probably already slammed and grinding in public, Lizzie silently prays, hear my call!

Lizzie whirls to her closet. She burrows through to locate a garment that was her size at the turning of the millennium and that has now, given changes wrought by developmental hormones, become rather more bandage-like. It is, Lizzie reflects, tugging it down over her boobs and butt, perfect. Lizzie adds a platinum-blond bob-shaped wig and sunglasses. Yes, she reflects, this all makes her look old. She is ready, she thinks, to execute her plan. Tonight she will show everyone who is really an artist, not to mention what a real artist is. Good thing Lizzie cares enough to snoop. Without this propensity she would have zero material, plus it is past being time to let inspiration strike. And, because Lizzie is super aggravated as far as her mother is concerned on this particular evening, she takes her shoes in hand and jumps out the second-story window, a practice her mother has for years been on her case about.

Forty-Four. And Then

Forty-Four

And Then

Anton Beans is achieving something rare: he’s attending a party with enthusiasm. He has on bleached-out denim, a color more festive, to his mind, than cold, cool white or onyx. He wears black sneakers, having decided, uncharacteristically, not to match his footgear to the rest of the ensemble. He has combed and scented his beard.

Anton Beans moves without haste. He is savoring this moment. Around him, members of his Seminars cohort pogo and wiggle. They’re slick with perspiration. Mascara is migrating and dark disks of sweat have begun to emerge. The DJ throws on anti-folk party anthem “Blister in the Sun” by the Violent Femmes, and the floor loses its collective shit. Anton Beans nods.