One Green Bottle

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Chapter 2

And she continued infinitum definitely infinity was a shadow of rage for her. She couldn’t believe I could do anything but cause trouble. I got into trouble not pregnant but nearly broke the law. I a con! There is nothing I can do I am nothing but trouble. Trouble follows me everywhere I am seeped in ill will, there is nothing but ill will towards me and others don’t care there is no one to care for this troubled me. I sit in my corner nursing my wounds. I see too much you see. I see too many things at once and there is nothing I can do about seeing I see the pathetic world as it gazes over in its own corruption and troubles without realising that we are part animal that we must use our senses to survive but we have dressed in our suits and we think we do not need to fear our well heeled friends. Then one day in the cinema with Tom and his posh people as if they are the new royalty or is it this feeling of awe they inspire? After mum I think I am going to find calm and clear waters these waters are just as muddy. Is it snobbery or is it good will or is it time to bonk off? If one discusses that never ending job with its prospects and its knock on times on and off and its offensive to inquire delicately how one manages to survive on benefits and if I am a good time girl without any prospects. Look I am me is that enough to sustain this world of snobs and ill will? Nothing is remarked nothing is said but there is a divide between these people and me.

There is something so obviously crude about this kind of snobbery as if the world has caved in and not allowed this section of the community outside its cage. The actors are different the manners are the same what kind of a person I’m I to be always in this improbable world? This world cannot have been made into reality. The film is about to start everyone bored everyone seem to have seen it before. This is not reality is it? This can’t be real is it? It is not possible is it? I have left all this behind me now it is here again this ugliness that is my despair to attract these bored intellectuals. I am with dishonesty, but young with all the snobs at me with hammer and tongs. Now let me explain dishonest snobs tell you about the goals of life. That without striving and work there can’t be money and they tell the same old story over and over as if it is mantra of life. The Buddhist in me is hurt can’t they see sense in what I am? I am trying to do a difficult art and it is so difficult that someone has to feed me why not the state? I do not have a pension I do not have much money but I do occasionally have someone who places me in these impossible situations. Look I am not in love for nothing does being in love make me into a class snob? Snobbery is the twisters of truth; it is reflected in his eyes and Tom not even conscious you know. I wonder if he knows that his future is in the hands of a snob. I wonder if snobs will make good husbands. Excuse the wife she works in the kitchen does the nappies not in the job description? Of course it is not someone has to do it? I wonder how much money one needs to pay a good nanny to do all that. What is the point? The perfect world of deceits and ill will as if it is eating entire England Middle England is disappearing to the likes of us. I am not to blame is it my fault middle England is no more? Take that this is the real world with all its madness and maddening people without prospects not everyone has a job to be able to survive one must be in a job. What about art and living and responsibilities and sense of proportion there is the door look there is the door without a prospect how can you dare to come into this respectable responsible family?

Look you are not my mother in law. But this deathly quietness as if the body language could not say enough. People are snobs they are snobs without doing anything but one job I’ve had several jobs at the same time and accomplished them all to everyone’s taste. Look I am better than you I am better than even him. I am not going you know I am going to find out all about you and report all present and correct and then it will be you whose goodbyes.

On with the new off with the old I think therefore I am not this little woman with the bent on being. I am bent I am bending it like Beckham I am going to be strong because otherwise this will eat me like they have tried in my youth and there is always tomorrow to fight this war. No this war is insidious and decisive I will be corrupted by too much knowledge. I am ok with this I see too much and I will see what this means to me as a person. The door is there, otherwise stay clear of this family. How much money are you desirous in offering this self satisfied writer of no account? He is offering me a lot more with interest free credit and perks. I get to sort out the domestic situation in lieu of something better turning up. You know I have met a lot of fools in my life but this takes the fool’s cake. I think one of us is making a cake of himself or herself I am not after money but prestige although the interest free credit will come in useful when I can have four houses and then I will not need to get engaged or married and pay my taxes in perfect harmony with the system and I will not say to everyone I am a failed writer.

I do so adore people like him; he brings out the talons in claws in a satisfactory manner. She drew him close to her with her nails she made him the happiest man alive. I can write about young man with their snobbery and slights as if they were the medals of my dreams. I love being told I am nothing for that is who I am. I am nothing but mere trifle with and he is trifle insecure and I am in love, but this crass youth whose lay I see as he seems to see mine. We gallop at the ready to see who talk’s sweetness first it is pure vinegar and honey mixed up. Tom is unaware of all this going on because it might be imagining with this someone who reminds me of a playwright I used to know. Now I am disappeared into oblivion into the past. This might be her mistake, Tom’s daughter’s mistake. I am not family so can’t interfere, worse luck, Tom doesn’t realise what is going on, he thinks the young man is honest. I don’t think he is a gentleman, as he gallantly offers Tom’s daughter a beer. She accepts reluctantly, as if it is her bedtime drink, like milk or something to get her into the mood of the thing.

I seem to see this pattern repeated if in doubt offer the Miss a drink. Seems to work or do the trick. I am like a cat with the milk, it is obvious the young man is insecure it is as if they are in a glass cage. I seem to see no air in their interlocked relationship as if their being with each other depends on this and that and not in their free will. I wonder if she had not been beautiful and he handsome and eligible? You know being a crow is not too bad after all you see what people are like. And I had thought I had made an effort to be presentable with my best clothes on but people like that smell money and breeding a mile off. I am a stray cat a Shaman I have family with breeding I must recommend them to him they will enjoy the cocktail. It is not for me cocktails, not after all that washing up I have done. Now I want everyone to have the real thing. This cock and bull is too like the parties of youth that will pass like wine in the desert. The shifting sands of time are such a mesh mash of things that I see clearly that these people are trapped because they are meant for each other not because of their natures but because their social positions. They are both eligible. What is nature? Being true to what one is what one feels? Who is one? These trapped individuals are trapped because they have been successful. Not because they want to be where they are but because there is no other option. No free options, with discounts without familiarity old families screaming mannered. Parties and getting to know the Jones, the likes of me and the likes of them; what are we all about? Middle England and I want to throw up. This is snobbery they are mad with snobbery. If Dickens came down from the paths of the debtor’s prison, he would be frowned upon blacking factory work shy no prospects. Narrow world woman no name. A writer who has not made it an old writer without any prospects not even decent money to his name. Now if a bestselling author then we can begin talking business then the family talons will grip the daylights out of you. We will welcome you into the very bosom of society. That is why I became a dishwasher to escape all that. Any way society does not have a bosom in fact society is a group of individuals with nothing but how to beget more of what there is not. Society is the human’s worst enemy. In fact, if it weren’t for society and their feeding on talented people who feed on praise there would have been more art work done and more books written.

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