Interview:
Heather Nova

Star Gazing

Rarely in my "career" as a writer and performer have I been starstruck in the presence of fame, but when you add astonishing physical beauty to the equasion, then weak at the knees I go and transformed am I, into Mr Rabid Groupie Man. Forget the pleasantries, Forget rationality, Forget integrity.... Forget the interview. Hands up, I came, I saw, I died an embarrassing death. Heather...come back! I love you baby... Nooooooo!

Ladies and gentlemen, I leave you with my account of an evening with Heather Nova.

"HEATHER, DON'T LEAVE ME THIS WAY" - a short narrative in 3 parts by N.C of Atomicduster

ACT ONE
Heather Nova is singing and softly strumming a guitar in an acoustic concert. She is wearing a backless dress with her hair tied up and performs barefooted on Persian carpets, looking something like an angel floating before the unworthy. Understandably her audience comprises of men in their 30's upwards who like me, have delusions of being alone with this Siren. Probably semi-naked on a beach somewhere in Bermuda and not at the Glee club in Brum. Beggars can't be choosers.

After the show she signs copies of her new book which contains poems and "mystical" thoughts from the singer like we care about that! Words are not enough I want flesh and I'm waiting backstage, she will be mine...oh yes.

ACT TWO

Your faithful reporter has now balgged his way (with charm and wit I have procured the security code sequence) into Heather Nova's empty dressing room, desperatley looking for discarded items of her clothing that I can steal or at least sniff, to get a more detailed idea of what I'm dealing with of course.

No underwear unfortunately but I'll settle for a T-shirt, anything that experienced contact with her skin. Dedication is all you need, that's my moto. I spy with my little eye a half eaten ceaser salad which may or may not have been partly consumed by a Goddess...I tuck in...Is this normal you ask? I don't care, all reasoning has long left me since the moment I saw those lips! Those lips that ate from the Ceaser Salad. We both like salad, a sign.

ACT THREE
Enter Heather Nova with her entourage of talkative session players who walk humbly in her wake. Bizzarely no-one notices me, good, they obviously feel at home with me around.

All talking stops as this indie diva becomes the focus of all our attentions. She leans against the wall sipping from a bottle, I notice that she is standing closest to me...Groupie logic takes over...It's another sign, surely of all the places she could stand in this room, she chose to stand next to me....quids in.

I look down at my dictaphone and press record, I'm gonna get her voice on tape...it can soothe me on cold winters nights. In horror I realise that my tape is full with an interview with the cooler than cool Sandy Dillon who an hour earlier gave me a machine gun interview (200 words per minute). Chunk Chunk rewind, goes the machine, I draw attention to myself and quickly hide the machine down the back of trousers before anyone realises their is an alien in the room.

That's that out the window then.

She turns towards me and begins to open her mouth as if to say something...
"Oh, my God, you were fanatastic and you look so beautiful Heather, you know, we should get together for a writing session..."
Sandy squeals appearing from nowhere and there is no escape as these two divas enter into a backslapping session to which I am only a witness.
I'm losing my thunder here, gotta say something, anything..
"Err howz the Err book going?".
Silence.
All eyes look at this lowly insect of a man.
"Yeah, not bad."
She immediately turns back to her conversation with Sandy Dillon
Is that it, have I come this far just for three words. Never!
Interruption is my only hope
"Err those Persian carpets...are they Err real?"
Silence.
"No, just some cheap rugs we got from the market"
I respond wide eyed,
"Ahh, you see, because my Err Mother, she's Persian"
"Oh"
Disturbing Silence.
....the ground opens up and swallows me.
The entourage and Sirens slowly leave the room continuing their conversation and leave my life...forever.
The End

Atomicduster 2007

 

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