And now in the distinct future or the present he sits with his girlfriends, within an inch of me, and they talk about the cinema I’ve seen. Their balls on fire but what they are talking about is listing the credits of the film. I even join in the discussion to say I’m here too. He likes this it is obviously his way of revenge but I don’t begrudge him that. He has met the difficult woman he dreaded and that was me. He turns everyone on. It is a sad fact of life that meeting one’s match is too much for some people and they have to lie down.
It is some kind of hell and I am turning over me to see myself in various mirrors as if the turning of the sheet was not the only reason I am there to get the story but he will try to erase this as well. I have an important mission too but he wants to destroy me he was not joking when he said those words that he will destroy me some day he will win. He set his mind on this my motive is I want to write the book that might catapult me into the limelight then I won’t have to fear. Money is power and power is importance and to be seen and not to be poked at without feeling grateful I will not be grated. I am no longer to be humble. I will see to it I wash no more dishes. I am forever in the light my touch has to be golden I have to make it? I must stand a chance of making money.
Where is the man with the money?
What happened to the minute dances and the minutes read and what mattered to us when we were young does matter against all the doctrines he has since learnt and against all bad advisors I got there is not much difference in me when I stood a child a girl and now?
“Look Me loath to be the bearer of bad news.”
“What bad news?”
“You have changed.”
“We are oddities of nature, we don’t belong.”
When the gong sounds a whisper runs through the neighbourhood.
“She has lost her mind.”
“Why tell the truth to a prince a kingdom could have been hers.”
Tell me a scullery maid does she belong in that kingdom? Tell it to me gently that I can understand the position. A maid of honour waiting at the tables, dishwasher a scullery maid a servant in her own house, leave the snobbery aside leave lust aside leave all the world for the stage struck. I have nothing to do with that position for it is one of dishonour and spite. Leave the world to the stage struck for there are so many that the Milky Way is filled with them. Let them gaze at that for that is what he’ll give.
“It is ok to be bombarded with offers but how many have there been lately?”
“No one has come through that door with a decent proposal.”
The draughty mirror image of the world as if there is a cold going. The Serbs have landed and brought the weather with them as I puff along trying to catch the sun. Tell me a worthy tale and I’ll send everyone to sleep trying to act all the characters. There is nothing for me here. I have caught a chill.
“Leave it alone.”
“Why should I have to leave it?”
“You’re the only one holding on.”
“Tell me a story man and I’ll spin the tale round so that there are many like me and nothing like me.”
Where shall I go that is the question? Where in the world is the world so unwelcoming so when the lovers turn out to be scared and cold and of course so set in their path of righteousness they leave nothing for me? I will graze my knees elsewhere there is nothing for me here.
When the pain gets bad the only remedy is to go to bed or take a shower and to calm oneself with the favourite activity with the favourite past time and let the wind wash over the emotions as if the tale is over and the idiot is set to rest.
Tell me a story granny and tell it to me so that the fears I have shall be laid to rest.
There are no more grannies no more tears only fears and telling some jerk how to behave is not my duty. If the jerk doesn’t care then that is over and the tide is over and the rest of life shall be ok but not ok. It is the end and the ending is my beginning I shall not want no more I shall have something from everyone I shall not want no more there will be the end to my starving for I shall have blood and gore like the rest of them. There shall be no more going without to please some illusion to please some man who doesn’t exist to please no one to please him that was my dream. Tonight all my dreams were laid to rest and disillusioned and wounded I go to bed to think it through as if I am the ghost of auntie.
Tonight the death was signed and sealed of that persona that I am of that person that was once full of self and unselfish thoughts. Now about to spring into mating it is as if plenty of things to be going on with. It might go as likely as not them all badly for me. I shall not want anymore no more going hungry I shall feast on lusts primal and plenty I shall not go without. It is tough being a bore. I boredom most of all and I think if I go round and round getting fed by all the mafia, doing it for nothing as well you know going round and round dating some black and some Chinese and some Frogs and some others of their kind. Won’t I be bored?
It is debatable whether I will get aids and whether will get VD and whether I will be given to suck cocks a plenty or whether the cocks will feel clean or they won’t be clean? The first boy friend’s wasn’t. He did not like washing. It is also a fact that garlic do these chaps eat with onions it is such a plentiful disadvantage that one day I might explode with disgust it must be fate worse than death. I wonder if I should continue starving.
But a man was trying it on tonight and the man of the moment did not even blink. Or he blinked too often. I will not be a party to all this just the thought of it makes me fall down into a rage such vengeful thoughts go through me that if I were a hot headed young thing I would mark him.
Therefore get to thinking whether wives with girls friends are different. Imagine uncle’s wife being molested what would uncle do? Belt the man? Of course he will. Why did not this idiot do so? Because I am merely a friend to you and her there is nothing that I need to tell you about my story. Not even friend of the family just a friend. It is very demoralising to be nearly seduced in front of the little gnome and the gnome not even reacting. It made me as sick as a parrot. I think I will react very badly to the gnome if it happens one more time I will be seduced in front of him you know.
Imagine if he were married to me would he have done the same things? Ignored it? I will go mad. You know every men I have they have to ask how many times I’ve slept with the previous now if I had been married they would not ask that question they would ask how many years have you been married! I mean do they work it out how many times that involves sleeping with the husband by the years?
365 nights and days that would be roughly 700 times worked by 2 and 3 a week that would mean 200 times a year that would be roughly 1000 in five years. Isn’t that an exact science? I must say it is brilliant Mathematics who said only men could add up?
If a man is married a woman belongs to him because she carries his name, is his responsibility? Why should a woman unmarried not be her own responsibility as well as his? Why should a woman be always in the pecking order as if she is a hen or something if she goes on holiday on her own or anywhere it is considered odd.
Even dangerous to behave in such a improper manner and to think only the fools go into such oddness why go to Turkey on your own go with the girls.