Love is who kills who first, that's all. The first one to unravel the other, cast their shadowy areas into light, loses. In unravelling someone's mystery we ultimately destroy them, at least their myth in our own eyes. When someones mystery is gone, when we know everything about them, we stop wanting/needing to explore them any further. There is nothing left to explore. Sometimes the light we expose the other in makes them bearable and we stick around for a while. But mostly we just shrink in that light, retreat into ourselves, into secret worlds of fantasy and desire. Human instinct mostly works against us. In capitulating to our base needs we construct palaces of misery. We're gluttons for sensation, and we destroy ourselves to entertain the palette.
John knows my every thought and move and I know his, almost. Just as he is savvy to my morning routine once the alarm goes off, so I am savvy to his, everything down to the frequency of his bowel movements. News we don't discuss anymore. We both know the other's thoughts on this or that. Film and music, well, we've stolen each other's passions and made them our own. What I brought into the room, John now leaves with and vice versa. We've become boring and predictable. The game is very nearly up, though not quite.
This morning John is nursing three crushed toes. His cigarettes are on the bookshelf, way up high where he can see but not possibly reach them. Toilet breaks are aided only if I can be bothered and if he asks with a desperate enough grimace on his face. It all serves as a little reminder that I too can have my moments, that it doesn't always run to course that I puff my chest up only to go down winded from a blow to the ribs. As I said, love is who kills who first. Meanness, brutality and sadism are now the only surprises we have left. Bishop to C5. Your move John!
Tristram's Birthday: Sunday 3rd October
Cheap jam sponge or something a little more exciting? How will Mr Spencer celebrate his 32nd year in hell?
Trolley Dash August 2010
Did Tristram accidently pick up a REAL bargain?
Brian the Postboy's gift to John: an ankle bracelet inscribed 'Super Dong'
Scrap metal or has John been 'tagged'. Is Tristram Spencer really the only fated man in town?
The Dangerous Dandy by Barbara Cartland
Will Tristram finally be brought to account for his love of Babs? And: is 25 years hard labour enough?
An Influx of Pigeons
Is there still some hope for the fated Mr Spencer?
Jeez you're even more cynical than me.
ReplyDelete'In unraveling someone's mystery we ultimately destroy them'.
Which is why I revere The Lord, the ultimate unravelable Mystery.
And you will too some day.
Lets face it you're LIVING the Bible:
Violence! Revenge! Torture! Burning Bushes!
Well maybe not the last one. That's just me.
Love means never having to say you're sappy.
It would have seemed weird to me that the one in the wheelchair is the one that manages to rule the roost and inflict all the damage.
If I wasn't dealing with a similarly disabled fiend myself.
So I look forward to the worm turning.
I want to see:
Queen takes pawn.
Checkmate.
That you've had the chance to become cynical is in its self surprising. I mean you a 'loose woman', who'd have thought.
ReplyDeleteOh, the needy become tyrants. For five minutes they're all thankful and gracious and then they somehow turn into self pitying lumps of meat who ring the bell each time they break wind! Humans are all the same, they use anything to gain the upperhand. It's one long power struggle.
Oh, the worm will turn and the ueen will strut her stuff all over town. I won't be so pompous then!
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