ASKING YOU FROM MY SOUL IF YOU PLEASE AND WANT TO HELP ME I SUFFER WITH MY HEAD AND I CAN'T FIND WORK TO SUPPORT MY TWO CHILDREN TO GIVE THEM CLOTHES AND FOOD WE DO NOT HAVE A HOUSE NOT TO LIVE WHERE WE CAN WHO HAS PITY AND SOUL TO HELP US LET GOD GIVE THEM HEALTH AND HAPPINESS GOD BLESS YOU
(written on a Bucharest beggar's piece of cardboard)
There is no connection between G.W. Bush, his Zionist backers, their lust for oil, such people who live in temples of gold …….and the woman waiting in the street, waiting to be given … for the children… for the children.
… or is there a faint reflexion?
Thursday, March 06, 2003 ……2:47:42 AM
Not quite the end….
Brahms 2nd Piano…
This page, simply for my own benefit, as indeed the whole previous saga has been, my own private "Coronation Street", if you like. Realize there is so much missing… that I should start again… again, from the time I first discovered Romania... more has happened to me of significance in these years than any other period of my long existence... eclipsing the Australian years… The end of those culminated here, in Bucuresti last Xmas, a strange, unforeseeable twist, with the appearance of my son and grandchild... an event after, after what?? half a century.. My biggest anticlimax ...
There is also the Laura affair... always considered her just another female face… she now 18 years old … a woman in every respect, a woman to be reckoned with.. This has gone on, almost in the sidelines.
Cynthia has shoved this juxtaposition together complete "with pictures" in her deeply determined, deeply methodical way... She, who ignores my sleeping with Laura, when here, which is quite often... but steps even further… more "extreme" as the man said.. Cyn having now found a fifteen year old, who's mother appealed to the World for help via the media, saying she has no money (not uncommon) would someone please help… take her eldest daughter and educate her… give her some hope… (She does have three others to support.. no man) We have her here with us, now. Laura... we ….. look upon her as another challenge, at this moment, a simple country girl..
..They have all relatively been that, have all done rather well on my so limited recourses and my prodding. Cyn always maintains I should have been paid in some way for my efforts in resurrecting these people, this flotsam…but I was hardly paid in Townsend house, all along realizing I did it as I have done everything else in my existence.. because I wanted to ..the "how much?" factor never really considered
A certain cynicism from those, the majority, who have never stuck their necks out, those who have never done the smallest thing other than consider themselves.. My probable ultimate summing up of this Planet being.. a sad one …
As always reiterated throughout this long, so long narrative .. money and sex the only motivation of the 21st Century…"The only Gods," as someone remarked. Greed. Avarice, Contempt, paramount.. running relentlessly, remorselessly.. through all the " human beings" who are anything on Planet Earth…
Of the lower echelons, on the mountains, the snow covered plains of the Balkans.. there remains a humanity, a humility, the people of the West have no inclination of… have no wish, no desire, to know of… the suffering, the stark unrelenting poverty.. where mothers have to give their daughters away…
Ace, King, Queen, Jack……….
În numele Tatălui şi Fiului şi Sfântului Duh………
Tuesday, March 4th, 2003. 2.30.p.m.
.P.
This page, simply for my own benefit, as indeed the whole previous saga has been, my own private "Coronation Street", if you like. Realize there is so much missing… that I should start again… again, from the time I first discovered Romania... more has happened to me of significance in these years than any other period of my long existence... eclipsing the Australian years… The end of those culminated here, in Bucuresti last Xmas, a strange, unforeseeable twist, with the appearance of my son and grandchild... an event after, after what?? half a century.. My biggest anticlimax ...
There is also the Laura affair... always considered her just another female face… she now 18 years old … a woman in every respect, a woman to be reckoned with.. This has gone on, almost in the sidelines.
Cynthia has shoved this juxtaposition together complete "with pictures" in her deeply determined, deeply methodical way... She, who ignores my sleeping with Laura, when here, which is quite often... but steps even further… more "extreme" as the man said.. Cyn having now found a fifteen year old, who's mother appealed to the World for help via the media, saying she has no money (not uncommon) would someone please help… take her eldest daughter and educate her… give her some hope… (She does have three others to support.. no man) We have her here with us, now. Laura... we ….. look upon her as another challenge, at this moment, a simple country girl..
..They have all relatively been that, have all done rather well on my so limited recourses and my prodding. Cyn always maintains I should have been paid in some way for my efforts in resurrecting these people, this flotsam…but I was hardly paid in Townsend house, all along realizing I did it as I have done everything else in my existence.. because I wanted to ..the "how much?" factor never really considered
A certain cynicism from those, the majority, who have never stuck their necks out, those who have never done the smallest thing other than consider themselves.. My probable ultimate summing up of this Planet being.. a sad one …
As always reiterated throughout this long, so long narrative .. money and sex the only motivation of the 21st Century…"The only Gods," as someone remarked. Greed. Avarice, Contempt, paramount.. running relentlessly, remorselessly.. through all the " human beings" who are anything on Planet Earth…
Of the lower echelons, on the mountains, the snow covered plains of the Balkans.. there remains a humanity, a humility, the people of the West have no inclination of… have no wish, no desire, to know of… the suffering, the stark unrelenting poverty.. where mothers have to give their daughters away…
Ace, King, Queen, Jack……….
În numele Tatălui şi Fiului şi Sfântului Duh………
Tuesday, March 4th, 2003. 2.30.p.m.
.P.
Sunday, November 03, 2002……..5:11 PM
Very cold here in Bucuresti, after the spring day we had yesterday. Mr Bush decided, after the weeks, indeed months of rhetoric regarding what he was and what he was not going to do to Iraq, has simply let the matter go on to the "back burner" The fact of the senate mid term elections are now due, could, conceivably, have something to do with him shutting his stupid mouth. The World now sits back, waits, waits for whatever is to come next. .. whatever "America" decides next.
Saddam Hussein... relaxes with his eight female bodyguards, Peter sits, contemplating Mr Putin's move of lowering the Marriage age to fourteen, wondering whether he should get the bus to Murmansk... Stalingrad... one of those exotic places…….. the third day of November… take Cynthia.. she could organize a party, it having died the death here.
All my entourage have inevitably gone the way all females I have ever known have gone once they were set on their feet. I found Dana a wealthy Englishman... once that was arranged not seen her since. Lisa is off to the States… a 73 year old, with three houses, three Cadillac's and a house on Malibu beach ……. Cyntia found him for Lisa. She leaves tomorrow...
I am not taking money as whether or not we shall get so much as a post card from her.
Laura, she my own particular pearl, never having seen the sea until we took her to Costinesti on the Black sea.
Her father had this penchant for locking both her and her and her sister up in a mental home during the long school vacation (a) because he did not have to keep them and (b) because he was paid about 1.000.000lei (you want to believe it) … all that we straightened out .. She found her feet after about a year here……..
Regardless of my giving her taxi fare home, soon realized she only had to show out and she does have plenty to show, the first car squealing to a standstill on the greasy cobblestones... watched her jump in with alacrity, drive away to where ever she was taken. Not bad for a girl just out of school………
Saddam Hussein... relaxes with his eight female bodyguards, Peter sits, contemplating Mr Putin's move of lowering the Marriage age to fourteen, wondering whether he should get the bus to Murmansk... Stalingrad... one of those exotic places…….. the third day of November… take Cynthia.. she could organize a party, it having died the death here.
All my entourage have inevitably gone the way all females I have ever known have gone once they were set on their feet. I found Dana a wealthy Englishman... once that was arranged not seen her since. Lisa is off to the States… a 73 year old, with three houses, three Cadillac's and a house on Malibu beach ……. Cyntia found him for Lisa. She leaves tomorrow...
I am not taking money as whether or not we shall get so much as a post card from her.
Laura, she my own particular pearl, never having seen the sea until we took her to Costinesti on the Black sea.
Her father had this penchant for locking both her and her and her sister up in a mental home during the long school vacation (a) because he did not have to keep them and (b) because he was paid about 1.000.000lei (you want to believe it) … all that we straightened out .. She found her feet after about a year here……..
Regardless of my giving her taxi fare home, soon realized she only had to show out and she does have plenty to show, the first car squealing to a standstill on the greasy cobblestones... watched her jump in with alacrity, drive away to where ever she was taken. Not bad for a girl just out of school………
Tuesday, October 29, 2002
In such a short time, a few days, so much has happened ... so much to confuse, the so easily confused brain of G.W.Bush... suddenly becoming apparent that not only does Iraq have "Weapons" so to does North Korea…(But N. Korea does not have any oil) If that has not weakened Bush's position how about the theatre siege in Moscow last weekend ??..Terrorists are under the bed as were communists in McCarthy's time… the Muslims... who pursue their ultimate goal of world domination by whatever means and money at their disposal, wrote this years ago... fast becoming a reality. A steady, unrelenting, intolerant, pressure on all things unrelated to Allah... especially American.
Putin stood very firm in his Muslim crisis, seven hundred people trapped, held "hostage" by heavily armed fanatics... many of them women.
Putin "sleeping gassed" the lot ... shot dead any of the Muslims left alive after the fighting .
End of story. One hundred and something hostages never came out the theatre alive…… their evening's entertainment……… the price paid to religious fanaticism.
/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
Putin stood very firm in his Muslim crisis, seven hundred people trapped, held "hostage" by heavily armed fanatics... many of them women.
Putin "sleeping gassed" the lot ... shot dead any of the Muslims left alive after the fighting .
End of story. One hundred and something hostages never came out the theatre alive…… their evening's entertainment……… the price paid to religious fanaticism.
/////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////
ENRON
ENRON
Monday, October 21, 2002…………
Fourteen months since the September 11th fiasco. .the fall out from that still continues. Capitalism collapsing fast. The rich long ago having taken other people's investments, pension money ….and run. Those who saved all their lives, in all trusting innocence for their old age, now rot in their old age for their naivete… …Nothing changes.
The punishment for those few caught in this great swindle, is at the worst, a couple of years in prison, at the best, some light work in society, or a fine. What is money to these creatures of the dark??? (Ruth will perhaps forgive me for saying this, but 95% of them, Jews) Hardly their money, they never slogged for it, went without for it, starved for it. Jews have always held this position right through the ages. Shakespeare had rather a great deal of comment on their behavior
Bush again conspiring with the Israeli's, his very powerful backers…. This time, he (they) after Iraq's oil… his excuse, the Israeli's excuse being, Iraq poses a "threat.." a cover up also for the out of control, downward spiraling economy. Unfortunately this conspiracy is all falling about his and the Zionists ears. Bush, his cohorts and his puppet Blair are the only people who want this precarious action. The Zionist's belatedly pulling back from their Palestinian occupation, knowing what conceivably is next to come, conceivably, also, with some trepidation.
As one of Bush's men remarked, rather unguardedly:
"If Saddam Hussein grew carrots in his back yard, no one would give a fuck"
Going to war is double edged bonus for Bush, a get out from a downward spiraling dollar and control of the Persian Gulf.. A jewel to be grasped…….His eyes from there can only be on World domination. His brain ostensibly not wishing to see Russia and China, who may conceivably object to his aspirations.
"Clinton went to war, bombing Yugoslavia as a get out for Lewinsky",
…….. Said this many times previously: For his deviousness, his destruction, his disregard for humanity, he has been awarded the Nobel peace prize…….. !! It does not need thinking about. As remarked in the Moscow times 20th Oct; 2002….."a booby prize", and booby's do not come any bigger than Clinton and the two B's. Unlikely the Yugoslavs have forgotten this incident, the treachery, never surprised if New York or London were blown away by these people. Bush rubbished on all fronts... but he, rather myopic and slightly stupid, unable to see from which way the wind is coming, or, indeed, which way it is going.
Today, Tuesday, October 22, 2002, he is starting to make placatory noises "I could consider not going to War…" As if he was Caesar. Not doubt, even a man with such an incredible thick head, has woken to the sheer weight of opposition to his policies and the deviousness of the deeply avaricious friends he keeps, those who put him in power, expensively keeping him there.
From my reasonably comfortable position here in Beller, after my slogging it out in London, feel safer than in the West, if "Safe" has ever been any of my considerations, but why stick your neck out?? Have been through one war and various other rather awkward situations. Why languish in London when quite conceivably, one could be killed for no fault of their own, simply attempting to scrape money to pay the bills, the tax man... and the mortgage… why hang about for that…….!! Or, as is now happening in Washington D. C. being indiscriminately killed by a sniper's bullet in the street. The score so far, is about 9 dead… simply ordinary people, minding their own business…. The only "threat" they ever knew, we ever knew… always constantly aware of, being:
"Where is the next dollar bill coming from?"
G.W. Bush, his intense desire for Iraqi oil, he, backed, up to the hilt by the powerful Zionist factor in American politics, is conceivably the greatest threat to World peace since Hitler.
It could be remarked how Jews always figure boldly in Global conflicts, past and pending. Obviously, he who pays the piper, calls the tune.
There have been some interesting revelations since Enron and the other major American companies who have simply disappeared ... with the money. Excesses far exceeding Roman orgies have been revealed. Only the very tip of that which did occur... enough to stir the masses, for them to lift their heads from the endless grindstone, to actually, momentarily, only momentarily, stop.… To think beyond the blur of striving for a existence, while the few "live" in a manner beyond their comprehension... where parties are held which cost millions of dollars, this in itself, not enough. The "Guests" are jetted and helicoptered to some remote tropical island. A fantasy World where champagne flows endlessly through the penis of a huge stone statue. Each guest given a small bag with a "present", hardly a bag of sweets and a orange … These bags contain jewelry, round the world air tickets and cruises on ocean going liners… Some people have been known, still in the state of "greed." their only motivation, consideration, to take two of these bags… Yet the masses remain sanguine, nothing can stir them sufficiently to rise up, realizing there is little or nothing they can do, however disproportionate their situation, only having to look about to see the reality.
The rich, the powerful, openly surrounded by myriad masses of men in black, who are ready, eager, paid, to kill anyone who dares to make a gesture of discontent, kill with the most deadly array of weapons known to mankind, chemical, mechanical, brutal and biological.
The prediction of George Orwell has long been in effect. The masses, since the end of the War, have imperceptibly been crushed, watched each moment of every day by Big Brother.. In London a person is photographed six times a day on average… simply going about their business.
Justice, always has been, always will be……….
The will of the stronger.
Call it "Democracy" sounds so much better.
Monday, October 21, 2002…………
Fourteen months since the September 11th fiasco. .the fall out from that still continues. Capitalism collapsing fast. The rich long ago having taken other people's investments, pension money ….and run. Those who saved all their lives, in all trusting innocence for their old age, now rot in their old age for their naivete… …Nothing changes.
The punishment for those few caught in this great swindle, is at the worst, a couple of years in prison, at the best, some light work in society, or a fine. What is money to these creatures of the dark??? (Ruth will perhaps forgive me for saying this, but 95% of them, Jews) Hardly their money, they never slogged for it, went without for it, starved for it. Jews have always held this position right through the ages. Shakespeare had rather a great deal of comment on their behavior
Bush again conspiring with the Israeli's, his very powerful backers…. This time, he (they) after Iraq's oil… his excuse, the Israeli's excuse being, Iraq poses a "threat.." a cover up also for the out of control, downward spiraling economy. Unfortunately this conspiracy is all falling about his and the Zionists ears. Bush, his cohorts and his puppet Blair are the only people who want this precarious action. The Zionist's belatedly pulling back from their Palestinian occupation, knowing what conceivably is next to come, conceivably, also, with some trepidation.
As one of Bush's men remarked, rather unguardedly:
"If Saddam Hussein grew carrots in his back yard, no one would give a fuck"
Going to war is double edged bonus for Bush, a get out from a downward spiraling dollar and control of the Persian Gulf.. A jewel to be grasped…….His eyes from there can only be on World domination. His brain ostensibly not wishing to see Russia and China, who may conceivably object to his aspirations.
"Clinton went to war, bombing Yugoslavia as a get out for Lewinsky",
…….. Said this many times previously: For his deviousness, his destruction, his disregard for humanity, he has been awarded the Nobel peace prize…….. !! It does not need thinking about. As remarked in the Moscow times 20th Oct; 2002….."a booby prize", and booby's do not come any bigger than Clinton and the two B's. Unlikely the Yugoslavs have forgotten this incident, the treachery, never surprised if New York or London were blown away by these people. Bush rubbished on all fronts... but he, rather myopic and slightly stupid, unable to see from which way the wind is coming, or, indeed, which way it is going.
Today, Tuesday, October 22, 2002, he is starting to make placatory noises "I could consider not going to War…" As if he was Caesar. Not doubt, even a man with such an incredible thick head, has woken to the sheer weight of opposition to his policies and the deviousness of the deeply avaricious friends he keeps, those who put him in power, expensively keeping him there.
From my reasonably comfortable position here in Beller, after my slogging it out in London, feel safer than in the West, if "Safe" has ever been any of my considerations, but why stick your neck out?? Have been through one war and various other rather awkward situations. Why languish in London when quite conceivably, one could be killed for no fault of their own, simply attempting to scrape money to pay the bills, the tax man... and the mortgage… why hang about for that…….!! Or, as is now happening in Washington D. C. being indiscriminately killed by a sniper's bullet in the street. The score so far, is about 9 dead… simply ordinary people, minding their own business…. The only "threat" they ever knew, we ever knew… always constantly aware of, being:
"Where is the next dollar bill coming from?"
G.W. Bush, his intense desire for Iraqi oil, he, backed, up to the hilt by the powerful Zionist factor in American politics, is conceivably the greatest threat to World peace since Hitler.
It could be remarked how Jews always figure boldly in Global conflicts, past and pending. Obviously, he who pays the piper, calls the tune.
There have been some interesting revelations since Enron and the other major American companies who have simply disappeared ... with the money. Excesses far exceeding Roman orgies have been revealed. Only the very tip of that which did occur... enough to stir the masses, for them to lift their heads from the endless grindstone, to actually, momentarily, only momentarily, stop.… To think beyond the blur of striving for a existence, while the few "live" in a manner beyond their comprehension... where parties are held which cost millions of dollars, this in itself, not enough. The "Guests" are jetted and helicoptered to some remote tropical island. A fantasy World where champagne flows endlessly through the penis of a huge stone statue. Each guest given a small bag with a "present", hardly a bag of sweets and a orange … These bags contain jewelry, round the world air tickets and cruises on ocean going liners… Some people have been known, still in the state of "greed." their only motivation, consideration, to take two of these bags… Yet the masses remain sanguine, nothing can stir them sufficiently to rise up, realizing there is little or nothing they can do, however disproportionate their situation, only having to look about to see the reality.
The rich, the powerful, openly surrounded by myriad masses of men in black, who are ready, eager, paid, to kill anyone who dares to make a gesture of discontent, kill with the most deadly array of weapons known to mankind, chemical, mechanical, brutal and biological.
The prediction of George Orwell has long been in effect. The masses, since the end of the War, have imperceptibly been crushed, watched each moment of every day by Big Brother.. In London a person is photographed six times a day on average… simply going about their business.
Justice, always has been, always will be……….
The will of the stronger.
Call it "Democracy" sounds so much better.
Twin Towers (2) ……Five months and four days after
Friday, February 15, 2002…….8:38 AM
A most glorious, sunny morning. Peace stretches tight over Bucuresti.
The shouting, posing, gesticulating, the billions of mostly repetitious, mostly meaningless words, the endless armies of the night marching nowhere, the billions of dollars, all thrown, supposedly, after the so elusive Uncle Ben Laden, his responsibility for our troubles, his audacious contempt for America. This charged atmosphere somewhat died away, the Planet slowly sinking back into its miasmal mist of poverty, despair, disintegration of people, their hopes, their fears, the infinite plethora of wars in Africa, Jews verses Palestinians, the so called ‘Olympics”, the endless scenario of figures on Wall Street, all backed by a veiled, immutable, constant, threat.
“If we all are not vigilant, if we do not conform, not accept that ………
“Justice is the will of the stronger” then, most certainly, Uncle Ben will decidedly get us again…if we could but just find him, if we knew precisely whom he was. “
Only ‘President Bush’, he only, can save us ... A wonderful diversion for him, a get out for a deeply declining economy, as the Lewinsky affair with Clinton, leaving him to devise the bombing of Yugoslavia as his particular diversion. This, now having repercussions with Milosevic on trial in the Hague, people with the slightest interest, questioning the validly of Bush, his puppets and his dollars, to put the man on trial.
Hiroshima and the indiscriminate civilian bombing of Belgrade? Which particular villains were at the bottom of that ? A question which could quite reasonably be asked……… No prizes for the right answer.
For what it is worth now, it should be mentioned that Yugoslavia fought against the Germans 39-45… Quite easy to see why the Americans are becoming universally hated as arrogant aggressors, more, and more falling into domination by Jews, their philosophy, their harsh terms for the Philistines.
The Russians still remain very quiet, unobtrusive. Quiet flows the Don.
Only visible, Chechnya and some pressure on Moldavia, that the population learn Russian. Rather interesting to know Russian real plans, aspirations, the Balkans, Afghanistan, they all so hinged on Russian borders, little more than pawns in this deadly game of power poker.
(Just a couple of years ago, Lebed, one of the hawks in the Russian hierarchy, said he could be in Bucuresti in six hours……… hardly a social call)
February 25, 2002… Ford Motor company Dagenham England is closing its’ 700acre site after seventy years, the rot firmly established, simply needs the appearance of another Hitler?….)
A most glorious, sunny morning. Peace stretches tight over Bucuresti.
The shouting, posing, gesticulating, the billions of mostly repetitious, mostly meaningless words, the endless armies of the night marching nowhere, the billions of dollars, all thrown, supposedly, after the so elusive Uncle Ben Laden, his responsibility for our troubles, his audacious contempt for America. This charged atmosphere somewhat died away, the Planet slowly sinking back into its miasmal mist of poverty, despair, disintegration of people, their hopes, their fears, the infinite plethora of wars in Africa, Jews verses Palestinians, the so called ‘Olympics”, the endless scenario of figures on Wall Street, all backed by a veiled, immutable, constant, threat.
“If we all are not vigilant, if we do not conform, not accept that ………
“Justice is the will of the stronger” then, most certainly, Uncle Ben will decidedly get us again…if we could but just find him, if we knew precisely whom he was. “
Only ‘President Bush’, he only, can save us ... A wonderful diversion for him, a get out for a deeply declining economy, as the Lewinsky affair with Clinton, leaving him to devise the bombing of Yugoslavia as his particular diversion. This, now having repercussions with Milosevic on trial in the Hague, people with the slightest interest, questioning the validly of Bush, his puppets and his dollars, to put the man on trial.
Hiroshima and the indiscriminate civilian bombing of Belgrade? Which particular villains were at the bottom of that ? A question which could quite reasonably be asked……… No prizes for the right answer.
For what it is worth now, it should be mentioned that Yugoslavia fought against the Germans 39-45… Quite easy to see why the Americans are becoming universally hated as arrogant aggressors, more, and more falling into domination by Jews, their philosophy, their harsh terms for the Philistines.
The Russians still remain very quiet, unobtrusive. Quiet flows the Don.
Only visible, Chechnya and some pressure on Moldavia, that the population learn Russian. Rather interesting to know Russian real plans, aspirations, the Balkans, Afghanistan, they all so hinged on Russian borders, little more than pawns in this deadly game of power poker.
(Just a couple of years ago, Lebed, one of the hawks in the Russian hierarchy, said he could be in Bucuresti in six hours……… hardly a social call)
February 25, 2002… Ford Motor company Dagenham England is closing its’ 700acre site after seventy years, the rot firmly established, simply needs the appearance of another Hitler?….)
… Salvation day for Greed.
The long decline in the stock market and the related power of the possessors had to be stopped, by any means, at any cost...
The top 2% will do and have done everything to hold and control the 98% of the World’s wealth which they possess... shifting the emphasis... moving the goal posts, moving the masses eyes away from their actions, a incessant, relentless, propaganda bombardment through the media…blaming anything, a bearded somebody… somewhere... far off, with waning conviction now, by anyone able to consider the situation.
(Every aspect of media dissemination, is decided for the masses by a handful of people, what should be seen, what should be thought, what should be aspired to. To accept “multiculturalism’ without question, as a accepted way of existence. So many subversive ideas, both insidiously and blatantly thrust into our homes and into the minds of our children by so few people. The general consensus being, this unprecedented power is in the hands of about twenty individuals, it is merely a step to ask , “Who controls America and its subsidiary, Great Britain?”)
The rich have not been so shaken by the eleventh, very quickly concluding it could be so turned to their advantage. They have not woken with the slightest intention of helping humanity, forever playing chess with the masses without seeing the humanity, without care, with a intensity, a coldness, a remoteness, a calculated ruthlessness, a all consuming greed, most people have no conception, no understanding of .
Tuesday, September the 11th 2001
… Salvation day for Greed.
***************************************************
The collapse of Enron, the biggest corporate scandal in American history ... this fact having to be admitted by the controlled media … their hard words being….
“A collapse caused almost entirely by fraud, sex, the lust for power and greed”
(New York Times. January 2002. Owned by Arthur Sulzberger, Jr., who also owns/controls 33 other newspapers)
Many powerful people have their fingers in the share out of this particular pie, including the English Heir Presumptive, Prince Charles ( $1.7m ) ……..Mr Blair and the British Government….(unspecified)
The top 2% will do and have done everything to hold and control the 98% of the World’s wealth which they possess... shifting the emphasis... moving the goal posts, moving the masses eyes away from their actions, a incessant, relentless, propaganda bombardment through the media…blaming anything, a bearded somebody… somewhere... far off, with waning conviction now, by anyone able to consider the situation.
(Every aspect of media dissemination, is decided for the masses by a handful of people, what should be seen, what should be thought, what should be aspired to. To accept “multiculturalism’ without question, as a accepted way of existence. So many subversive ideas, both insidiously and blatantly thrust into our homes and into the minds of our children by so few people. The general consensus being, this unprecedented power is in the hands of about twenty individuals, it is merely a step to ask , “Who controls America and its subsidiary, Great Britain?”)
The rich have not been so shaken by the eleventh, very quickly concluding it could be so turned to their advantage. They have not woken with the slightest intention of helping humanity, forever playing chess with the masses without seeing the humanity, without care, with a intensity, a coldness, a remoteness, a calculated ruthlessness, a all consuming greed, most people have no conception, no understanding of .
Tuesday, September the 11th 2001
… Salvation day for Greed.
***************************************************
The collapse of Enron, the biggest corporate scandal in American history ... this fact having to be admitted by the controlled media … their hard words being….
“A collapse caused almost entirely by fraud, sex, the lust for power and greed”
(New York Times. January 2002. Owned by Arthur Sulzberger, Jr., who also owns/controls 33 other newspapers)
Many powerful people have their fingers in the share out of this particular pie, including the English Heir Presumptive, Prince Charles ( $1.7m ) ……..Mr Blair and the British Government….(unspecified)
Whom Does England Belong To ??
The Enemy undoubtedly is within ... if you are into looking at it that way, but these people are now a established, irrefutable fact, they have been industrious, silent, insidious, calm… mostly all working together.. “Together.” For one end, control of Europe, the UK especially..
This, almost within their grasp, almost without a fight, without bloodshed, without the consciousness of England being disturbed, waking too late.. too engrossed in Football and Coronation Street, as always mentioned..
Every Post Office, every petrol station in England, now run by Muslims. The civil service, deeply penetrated by them.
So whom does England belong to??
Very interesting question, suddenly raised after a thousand years of comparatively, subdued, accepted “Sovereignty”. …
The enforced silence of “subjects”
If anyone is into Islamic wars... well it is a good time to be around. The now situation firmly rests on the West, it’s draconian efforts to stifle all criticism of immigration, it’s lust, it’s greed, has had consequences never considered... never imagined, the only consideration being…. How Much??? How much profit can be made? How much can be squeezed from the ‘working class?” The attitude of the rich is and always has been…
“The working class can my arse kiss.”
This, almost within their grasp, almost without a fight, without bloodshed, without the consciousness of England being disturbed, waking too late.. too engrossed in Football and Coronation Street, as always mentioned..
Every Post Office, every petrol station in England, now run by Muslims. The civil service, deeply penetrated by them.
So whom does England belong to??
Very interesting question, suddenly raised after a thousand years of comparatively, subdued, accepted “Sovereignty”. …
The enforced silence of “subjects”
If anyone is into Islamic wars... well it is a good time to be around. The now situation firmly rests on the West, it’s draconian efforts to stifle all criticism of immigration, it’s lust, it’s greed, has had consequences never considered... never imagined, the only consideration being…. How Much??? How much profit can be made? How much can be squeezed from the ‘working class?” The attitude of the rich is and always has been…
“The working class can my arse kiss.”
Nothing changes
Margaret Thatcher and her ferocity in smashing the miners by every means at her disposal next to shooting them … she succeeded after months of street fighting. This opened the way for “Privatization” and the “Global economy” ‘The capitalist dream’, where the individual does not exist.
Thatcher put the working class out on a limb as they were prior to the War. During the war, with full employment, only a fool worked more than three days a week. Why work the other time and pay the government taxes..!!
The powerful stood this until they realized there were millions of blacks in the “British Colonies” who were willing to work in Britain for almost nothing…It took a long time for the process of bringing the British worker to heel, but it has been done, they have few rights remaining.
Now, with the “Fight Against Terrorism...” even their redundancy payments … pensions, contracts are torn up in their faces … people simply thrown into the street…
(called in the business ”restructuring!!” )
Nothing changes.
Rather a amazing get out for the privileged class, our “Betters”. Think of the popping bottles of Dom Perrignon….
Today, I saw in Romana, an old lady attempting to sell her personal medicine to buy food... think about that also..
Her monthly state pension is 400.000lei
($13 a month) at today’s exchange rate 31000 Lei to the $.
A Cup of Coffee in McDonalds is now 20.000 lei
During the War… I, 13 years old… working… passing the Ritz Hotel, Piccadilly, in my overalls, covered in asbestos dust. At that moment a magnificent/splendid/elegant lady stepped out from the foyer escorted by two gentlemen in top hats and perfumed suits, heading towards one of the largest saloon cars ever made by Rolls Royce...
From the corner of her eye, this female apparition chanced to see disheveled Peter ... now almost cowering, almost overawed by the splendour of his “Betters” (As he was brought up and taught to believe these creatures were)
The lady immediately started to scream hysterically for the two men to get me out of her sight….
I know my place... I doff my cap to them…
Today, on the box, saw people flying to the States on Concord being served with Caviar and white / yellow roses on the table……… Please yourself….
Thatcher put the working class out on a limb as they were prior to the War. During the war, with full employment, only a fool worked more than three days a week. Why work the other time and pay the government taxes..!!
The powerful stood this until they realized there were millions of blacks in the “British Colonies” who were willing to work in Britain for almost nothing…It took a long time for the process of bringing the British worker to heel, but it has been done, they have few rights remaining.
Now, with the “Fight Against Terrorism...” even their redundancy payments … pensions, contracts are torn up in their faces … people simply thrown into the street…
(called in the business ”restructuring!!” )
Nothing changes.
Rather a amazing get out for the privileged class, our “Betters”. Think of the popping bottles of Dom Perrignon….
Today, I saw in Romana, an old lady attempting to sell her personal medicine to buy food... think about that also..
Her monthly state pension is 400.000lei
($13 a month) at today’s exchange rate 31000 Lei to the $.
A Cup of Coffee in McDonalds is now 20.000 lei
During the War… I, 13 years old… working… passing the Ritz Hotel, Piccadilly, in my overalls, covered in asbestos dust. At that moment a magnificent/splendid/elegant lady stepped out from the foyer escorted by two gentlemen in top hats and perfumed suits, heading towards one of the largest saloon cars ever made by Rolls Royce...
From the corner of her eye, this female apparition chanced to see disheveled Peter ... now almost cowering, almost overawed by the splendour of his “Betters” (As he was brought up and taught to believe these creatures were)
The lady immediately started to scream hysterically for the two men to get me out of her sight….
I know my place... I doff my cap to them…
Today, on the box, saw people flying to the States on Concord being served with Caviar and white / yellow roses on the table……… Please yourself….
Sunday, January 13, 2002
Today, Sunday, January 13, 2002..] Ford motor company has thrown into the “Pool of Unemployment” 35.000 people. Add this and a few thousand more to the original million since 11th September… what do you get..?
Good question…
A certain amount of satisfaction on my part and one or two others, no doubt, of forecasting what has materialized.
Everything I have suggested over the last thirty years has occurred in one form or the other, but the 11th far exceeded my imagination.
Such a dramatic/meticulous/stupendous/ piece of theatre… such a blow to the established elite.. Beyond Pearl Harbour, beyond D day, beyond any event in modern history, something everyone on this Planet could see within a few moments of happening, nothing else has been displayed with such breathless graphics .The scuttling of the Graf Spee was a wonderful event…only a verbal. Planes crashing into those towers must be the visual event of all time and the plane deliberately driven onto the unspeakable… the Pentagon... is quite clearly the biggest blow the U.S.A. has ever had to suffer .
From Sept the 11th onwards the World has become a different place. The “Enemy is within…” It has been within for the last 40 years, wrote the same words long ago. Anyone who said this then/now was either imprisoned as a racist, or completely ignored… Now, a different scenario.
The imprisoning of Mr. Milosevic conclusively proves the Americans specifically, NATO and those responsible for the “Race relations industry”, the “Human rights industry” had it quite wrong, yet again, or, more pointedly, another convenient distraction for the masses to watch.. a get out for Clinton in the Lewinsky affair… conceivably.
History has shown the endless struggle in the Balkans against Islam, Mr. Milosevic tried to stem the creeping tide. In view of events, rather embarrassing for the West, it could be thought... putting him in prison.
The Russians (those vast masses of people in the East that the West not quite never mentions) must be smiling, at this sudden blow/threat/realization/awakening… by so called “Western Civilization” also having mentioned during the savage attack on Yugoslavia, that the West and the Muslims would eventually fight it out ….The Russians will confront the winner…
It could be imagined they are doing now, as they did with Hitler… preparing in their Far Eastern Provinces…
What man has ever marched further than Moscow?
Good question…
A certain amount of satisfaction on my part and one or two others, no doubt, of forecasting what has materialized.
Everything I have suggested over the last thirty years has occurred in one form or the other, but the 11th far exceeded my imagination.
Such a dramatic/meticulous/stupendous/ piece of theatre… such a blow to the established elite.. Beyond Pearl Harbour, beyond D day, beyond any event in modern history, something everyone on this Planet could see within a few moments of happening, nothing else has been displayed with such breathless graphics .The scuttling of the Graf Spee was a wonderful event…only a verbal. Planes crashing into those towers must be the visual event of all time and the plane deliberately driven onto the unspeakable… the Pentagon... is quite clearly the biggest blow the U.S.A. has ever had to suffer .
From Sept the 11th onwards the World has become a different place. The “Enemy is within…” It has been within for the last 40 years, wrote the same words long ago. Anyone who said this then/now was either imprisoned as a racist, or completely ignored… Now, a different scenario.
The imprisoning of Mr. Milosevic conclusively proves the Americans specifically, NATO and those responsible for the “Race relations industry”, the “Human rights industry” had it quite wrong, yet again, or, more pointedly, another convenient distraction for the masses to watch.. a get out for Clinton in the Lewinsky affair… conceivably.
History has shown the endless struggle in the Balkans against Islam, Mr. Milosevic tried to stem the creeping tide. In view of events, rather embarrassing for the West, it could be thought... putting him in prison.
The Russians (those vast masses of people in the East that the West not quite never mentions) must be smiling, at this sudden blow/threat/realization/awakening… by so called “Western Civilization” also having mentioned during the savage attack on Yugoslavia, that the West and the Muslims would eventually fight it out ….The Russians will confront the winner…
It could be imagined they are doing now, as they did with Hitler… preparing in their Far Eastern Provinces…
What man has ever marched further than Moscow?
The Terrorists within
The underlying surprise to all this is that in the name of greed, cheap labour, indifference by the highest echelons of finance.. too engrossed into talking about making billions, to talk about what was happening on the ground, too totally engrossed, to possible have time to consider.
With everything and everyone so tightly controlled, how could their wealth/power be taken from them… attacked …especially not from “within”
The inconceivable has happened. The ‘asylum seekers’, the immigrants, all so many hands to do their dirty work … cheaply… They are “within…” their concepts, their beliefs, totally underestimated, never understood, completely ignored.
The Muslims of Europe have strenuously denied connection with the Twin Towers, obviously, they would. Their position not quite strong enough in the West. (Suddenly it is discovered that most of the connections to the 11th live in the Midlands.. even “His” sister lives there. The fact the area is bristling with Mosques has always been played down by the media, another unmentionable subject)
I have also heard that the incident was a supreme gamble of Capitalism, frantically watching their money, their power, run fast out, like the tide on Maldon flats, this meticulously planned operation was their work ... not of some conveniently placed, heavily bearded, tartar, hiding in a far off, mountainous country.. he, having always denied any involvement in the affair. I and no doubt, along with a few others, are rather inclined to believe him, considering the amount or inside information/money necessary for such a achievement and the strange way the Stock market performed a few days prior to the 11th.
But would these people… the same strain as with the Kennedy affair… would they have attacked “The” icon of World domination… The Pentagon..!! Or was that the supreme touch?? The ultimate twist in this ultimate mystery…. ?? Greed, power, money and sex, the dominant features of man….No honour…. Nothing sacred.
In the crash of the thirties the rich threw themselves out of windows unable to face the reality of living as the masses do, the unrelenting, remorseless grind of work,., simply to sustain basic necessities.
This time round, they are having none of that, no unpleasantness, fully intend to hold on tightly to what is left and it rather looks as if they have succeeded .. But it will never be quite the same for them again.. There is always going to be that doubt, also, perhaps, a slight less arrogance, a slight less willingness to openly flaunt their gains. Whatever, they have recoiled at the reality. A long way back to when only the “aristocracy” were allowed to wear red shoes.
However stringent their defenses against the working masses, however many cameras they install, however much armour the police and troops are equipped with, however many more laws they make in their own defence …the powerful will, for ever onwards, be looking over their shoulder, not knowing from which direction the next strike at greed will most certainly come from.
Without the slightest hesitation, it can be stated, the war between the have's and the have nots has taken on a previously inconceivable, totally new perspective, no frontiers, no borders, no massed armies marching through the night, no rules, no anything, A silent, unseen, ever simmering war of attrition.
For many years … the lid, so tightly forced down on a seething situation, now all can see, have seen, the so called “Terrorists” not from any particular country … They are within.
With everything and everyone so tightly controlled, how could their wealth/power be taken from them… attacked …especially not from “within”
The inconceivable has happened. The ‘asylum seekers’, the immigrants, all so many hands to do their dirty work … cheaply… They are “within…” their concepts, their beliefs, totally underestimated, never understood, completely ignored.
The Muslims of Europe have strenuously denied connection with the Twin Towers, obviously, they would. Their position not quite strong enough in the West. (Suddenly it is discovered that most of the connections to the 11th live in the Midlands.. even “His” sister lives there. The fact the area is bristling with Mosques has always been played down by the media, another unmentionable subject)
I have also heard that the incident was a supreme gamble of Capitalism, frantically watching their money, their power, run fast out, like the tide on Maldon flats, this meticulously planned operation was their work ... not of some conveniently placed, heavily bearded, tartar, hiding in a far off, mountainous country.. he, having always denied any involvement in the affair. I and no doubt, along with a few others, are rather inclined to believe him, considering the amount or inside information/money necessary for such a achievement and the strange way the Stock market performed a few days prior to the 11th.
But would these people… the same strain as with the Kennedy affair… would they have attacked “The” icon of World domination… The Pentagon..!! Or was that the supreme touch?? The ultimate twist in this ultimate mystery…. ?? Greed, power, money and sex, the dominant features of man….No honour…. Nothing sacred.
In the crash of the thirties the rich threw themselves out of windows unable to face the reality of living as the masses do, the unrelenting, remorseless grind of work,., simply to sustain basic necessities.
This time round, they are having none of that, no unpleasantness, fully intend to hold on tightly to what is left and it rather looks as if they have succeeded .. But it will never be quite the same for them again.. There is always going to be that doubt, also, perhaps, a slight less arrogance, a slight less willingness to openly flaunt their gains. Whatever, they have recoiled at the reality. A long way back to when only the “aristocracy” were allowed to wear red shoes.
However stringent their defenses against the working masses, however many cameras they install, however much armour the police and troops are equipped with, however many more laws they make in their own defence …the powerful will, for ever onwards, be looking over their shoulder, not knowing from which direction the next strike at greed will most certainly come from.
Without the slightest hesitation, it can be stated, the war between the have's and the have nots has taken on a previously inconceivable, totally new perspective, no frontiers, no borders, no massed armies marching through the night, no rules, no anything, A silent, unseen, ever simmering war of attrition.
For many years … the lid, so tightly forced down on a seething situation, now all can see, have seen, the so called “Terrorists” not from any particular country … They are within.
The transition is upon Europe ...now.
March 99, I wrote the Muslims would attempt to take full control of Europe, England especially… already they having long held the Midland swathe. Luton, Leicester, Nottingham, Bradford, Birmingham, firmly in their grip and all English Councils. Silently, insidiously, industriously they have worked towards this end.
The so called “Church of England “… The Protestants, have sold their best situated churches to the real estate developers. The “Worshipers” preferring Sainsbury shopping on Sunday morning, a natural decline. Hardly any point in any of the White English making a stand now. This influx of cheap labour has brought something quite unforeseen. Enoch Powell thought the indigenous population would rebel against such a flood of foreign humanity, so alien to the English conception, the much vaunted “English way of Life”. He, severely shouted down, ridiculed by the powerful and his own ‘class” made appearing to be a “racist” “The” political word of Blair and the late twentieth century. The masses, swallowing this, as they swallow everything else, a dumb acceptance, a masochistic willingness to lie down and be trodden on. Few bothered to struggle against the politically correct tide, the indifference. Those that did, were quickly silenced.
No voice has been allowed to be raised against immigration to Great Britain, a forty years enforced silence…. until the 11th….. Now there is a deafening clamour… Muslims are being deported without any legal procedures... they are being sent to enclaves so far away as Cuba..
Nevertheless, not only too late to reverse the situation, but an impossibility.
Britain, its’ culture disintegrated, its’ people alienated from within, as so many other societies throughout history
No one faintly considered the absolute determination of Muslims for World domination by Islam... which is fast becoming a reality … Few countries on this Planet which does not have one of their factions fighting from within.
No one after the War, had the slightest conception of Muslims and their faith. Ironically, the 40 years of their insidiously creeping into Britain has been exactly matched by the endless saga of “Coronation Street”.. If there were no mention of Muslims, or Islam by “The” symbol of “Great Britain” there could hardly need be given the faintest consideration, be of the slightest concern for the silent, staring, obedient, incumbent, population. Not inconceivable that there is a controlling government hand in the scripting of this interminable monologue, as everything else which passes through the ‘Media”, in whatever form.
Wrote years ago, when I lived in England.
“If I were a young man with young children... I would send them to a Muslim school in order to make it easier for them when the transition does come.”
The transition is upon Europe ...now.
The so called “Church of England “… The Protestants, have sold their best situated churches to the real estate developers. The “Worshipers” preferring Sainsbury shopping on Sunday morning, a natural decline. Hardly any point in any of the White English making a stand now. This influx of cheap labour has brought something quite unforeseen. Enoch Powell thought the indigenous population would rebel against such a flood of foreign humanity, so alien to the English conception, the much vaunted “English way of Life”. He, severely shouted down, ridiculed by the powerful and his own ‘class” made appearing to be a “racist” “The” political word of Blair and the late twentieth century. The masses, swallowing this, as they swallow everything else, a dumb acceptance, a masochistic willingness to lie down and be trodden on. Few bothered to struggle against the politically correct tide, the indifference. Those that did, were quickly silenced.
No voice has been allowed to be raised against immigration to Great Britain, a forty years enforced silence…. until the 11th….. Now there is a deafening clamour… Muslims are being deported without any legal procedures... they are being sent to enclaves so far away as Cuba..
Nevertheless, not only too late to reverse the situation, but an impossibility.
Britain, its’ culture disintegrated, its’ people alienated from within, as so many other societies throughout history
No one faintly considered the absolute determination of Muslims for World domination by Islam... which is fast becoming a reality … Few countries on this Planet which does not have one of their factions fighting from within.
No one after the War, had the slightest conception of Muslims and their faith. Ironically, the 40 years of their insidiously creeping into Britain has been exactly matched by the endless saga of “Coronation Street”.. If there were no mention of Muslims, or Islam by “The” symbol of “Great Britain” there could hardly need be given the faintest consideration, be of the slightest concern for the silent, staring, obedient, incumbent, population. Not inconceivable that there is a controlling government hand in the scripting of this interminable monologue, as everything else which passes through the ‘Media”, in whatever form.
Wrote years ago, when I lived in England.
“If I were a young man with young children... I would send them to a Muslim school in order to make it easier for them when the transition does come.”
The transition is upon Europe ...now.
Bucuresti…….. “Beller” Monday, 5th November, 2001.
Mid day, sunny calm, quiet, in this attic... what more can be asked?
Aura and the other ladies have been somewhat eclipsed by the events of September 11th…
A long think since the climax of that day in history. What I have written over the long years, has been vindicated by event in far greater terms than I envisaged.. a blow to Capitalism from within.. a blow it will continue to reel from .
Any fool could see the Financial crash was inevitable .. the stock market had been in decline for two years.. This incident in New York, a amazing get out for so many foundering capitalist organizations.
The long lingering pilots disputes over redundancy pay and pension due to the decline of air traffic was settled instantly. Planes grounded, airports locked, thousands of people, without further negotiation, without any compromise, unceremoniously dismissed, as has always been the capitalist way. The same merciless treatment given to many thousands of others….simply thrown out onto the street ... literally.
A God send to the top 2% of this Planet.
Salvation yet again….
“Terrorism” and “A State of Emergency” being the excuse… Their excuse… their get out.
Aura and the other ladies have been somewhat eclipsed by the events of September 11th…
A long think since the climax of that day in history. What I have written over the long years, has been vindicated by event in far greater terms than I envisaged.. a blow to Capitalism from within.. a blow it will continue to reel from .
Any fool could see the Financial crash was inevitable .. the stock market had been in decline for two years.. This incident in New York, a amazing get out for so many foundering capitalist organizations.
The long lingering pilots disputes over redundancy pay and pension due to the decline of air traffic was settled instantly. Planes grounded, airports locked, thousands of people, without further negotiation, without any compromise, unceremoniously dismissed, as has always been the capitalist way. The same merciless treatment given to many thousands of others….simply thrown out onto the street ... literally.
A God send to the top 2% of this Planet.
Salvation yet again….
“Terrorism” and “A State of Emergency” being the excuse… Their excuse… their get out.
The Costinesti Encounter.
Tuesday, August 14, 2001..
Another diversion , so quickly am I overtaken by events
On the sixth Of this month, I was, we were, Cynthia, Laura and I at Costinesti on the Black Sea, a place quite comparable to Pattaya…
7.30 a.m. Glorious , hot.
In the chalet next to mine, a older man sitting on the step with a can of beer , looking rather the worse for life. A early starter, I thought . Hardly took any notice . Cynthia came out , immediately greeting this gentleman,
“Oh ! Hello Bernt !! “
“ You know him??” I said, curious.
“Yes , of course”
“ Is it the Belgian man ?”
‘No, it’s the German Man’
“What German man ??”
‘You know.. the one who ran off with Aura! “
Looked at him , looked at Cynthia. Aura..!! German !! did not recognize him.. seen him once or twice before, but he had aged considerably. Looked at him ………
asked the $50 question… ??
‘Where’s Aura ??”
“I left her…” He said deceptively.
Smiled at this, thinking, that’s alright, satisfied..…
Wondered what he was doing here in Costinesti ??
‘Leaving now ..do not like the heavy music “ he did have a point… music??! Decibels… ! twenty four hours every day.
Said to him ‘It’s cheap…”
“Money is of no consideration to me’
Well, I thought . lucky you. Aura gone.. God knows where .. He here… Peter not really thinking too clever..
Laura sitting idly watching all this, taking it all in.. swinging her body to the music plugged into her ears, looking so delicious in her topless nothing, long hair to the waist, skin the colour of bronze.
He looked at her ..looked at her again.. looked at me and disappeared inside his little wooden hut, popping out again with a small child and his junk ..all packed.
Asked whom the child may be ? he quite glib, saying it belonged to the woman he was with, naturally I assumed he had picked up someone with a child.. odd.. but my mind still engrossed on Aura.
He looked at Laura again and announced he was leaving immediately, now.
Laura played it up to the hilt pouting at him… crossing her legs provocatively.
A child came out fully dressed and this woman stepped out after it.. She slightly overweight… dressed.. no one dresses in Costinesti, It is a situation of undress.
She had a green two piece suit on, black, low heel shoes, hair, immaculate, as if she had just stepped from the saloon, only the briefest glimpse of her as she quickly turned her back and strode off ……..”up the garden path”, so to speak.. and they were gone …
Thought to myself “That’s a funny turn out”
Anyway, ten minutes later he comes back, breathless, quite apparently agitated, some pretext, it being he was looking for his watch , told him it was on his wrist.
Could see he was very confused, see he wanted something, other than the watch….
He rushed into the room banged about for a few seconds and came out, obviously having made some decision.
Actually I am married to Aura !!.. been married to her for two months !!:
I, Quite shaken.. very shaken.
‘Was that her who walked out ??”
He said “Yes”
Immediately blew my top
“Why the fuck didn’t she say Hello!! After all I did for her?? She is entitled to say hello.. not simply ignore me”
“Well.. she does not want to speak to you “
“Typical of all of them , none want to say thank you, everything that woman is , irrespective , is what I made her, she was a nonentity, now quite obviously, she is a something, a something to be reckoned with.
He thought it was going to develop into trouble, but I calmed down..
He, seeing the change, became fatuous.. Uriah Heep.. said quietly:
“ Could I ask you a question??”
“Can if you want”
“Did you have sex with Aura ???”
Looked at him straight in the face.. I don’t believe this.. what has Aura told the silly bastard
“Did I have sex with Aura !!!? ”
When did we ever stop having sex!!…What a question…
“To be perfectly fair, now that you are married to her I really cannot answer “
He persisted “Do you have any erotic photographs of her ???”
“Only the one you stole from my apartment…”
Forgot to mention she was the most photographed, most filmed, most fucked, most erotic, most sensuous woman I had ever met .
He was not happy .
Asked where she may be? said she was sitting in a taxi up the road ..Suggested he had better go. He hardly wanted that , he wanted more, more about the woman.. the woman he had so blithely married, a whole barrage of questions which I demurred at..
Eventually he came up with…
"How is it I find $100 bills and 50 mark notes in her pockets ?"
Parried that one saying "Perhaps I gave them to her..”
“No this was after you”
What a stupid bastard..
Aura is obviously still “At It” and she is extremely clever at the ‘game…’ I never knew what was going on until I was told.. The last to know.. Even when the woman in Enescu screamed at her for being a ‘Prostitute” a countered angrily by saying she had made a “mistake!!” never for a moment thinking otherwise.. Men are both blind and stupid when it comes to the other sex, when it comes to the very edge of the precipice.
Clever woman, Aura, loves her occupation, as so many do....
When his back is turned .. same as when mine was.. in England, grinding away on the streets, she in Bucuresti, grinding away on a bed or anywhere, actually.
Thought ..”Well fuck you, you stew in it” ….she has sucked him in and blown him out in bubbles.
Ignoring my initial outburst, had become quite calm. I taken so back , that this unglamorous woman I had just seen was Aura, evidently been partaking of the German cheese cake without consideration to her figure…
Dressed!! She hardly wore enough to cover her fanny when she was with me, Costinesti is a place where everything is let go… people are semi naked
He could see I was elsewhere with my thoughts . His final shot
“ What do you think I should do about her!!?
“ What do you mean? what do I think you should do..??? you married her.. who’s the child ??
“ Oh.. that’s Aura’s nephew”
Fucking Aura..!! she has married the man.. goes to Germany with him.. drags him back to Costinesti.. drags some kid round with her , no doubt to alleviate the boredom….. Auld lang syne!!!
Perhaps she wanted to rekindle a spark of the past, there certainly is not now the slightest spark in the man she married.. married him for what he could give her……..I smiled.. still did not say anything ..let the silly bastard stew in her juice, Done him up like a kipper… indeed she has.. She so clever as any Thai Lady. My best pupil……
Why I did not recognize him being, all the aggravation, the struggle he had with her, has simply aged him. Looked reasonable when I last glimpsed him in the photograph she showed me of them together, they looked the business.. but that was a year ago and time is relentless, remorseless. Infinitely without mercy.
Here was a man, married for thirty years, with three children Aura’s age, now divorced, up to the neck with alimony and Aura shackled to him.
I can only ask , as ever, why are men so stupid ?
Realizing I was not going to give him anything of the past .. he fucked off with a final look at Laura who had intently paid attention to this odd encounter
Quite honestly, once I took a deep breath and thought about it, I was really knocked, really knocked.
How can this be!!
Aura to me, in my eyes, was such a wonderful person, so erotic, so sensuous all the time. One man was useless to her, she was always suggesting her desire for more than one man, as with SOS who knocked off 23 men in one evenings’ entertainment, hardly think Aura has beaten this.. yet…without doubt she could, will …insatiable..
As he walked away, perhaps thinking out loud… said
“I’m going to watch her”
No doubt with reference to the mysterious money in her pockets…
What an attitude to take between what is a fact.. man and wife…
Here is a man married two months to this young woman, she blatantly back to her favorite occupation ..doing what she is best at and getting rewarded for it.. Fair enough…, I am unable to sympathize, I never saw her game, why should he have ?? Unable to sympathize with the man, any man.
Men are stupid when it comes to a woman. I know not one who has come out in front regarding a female.
Mesmerized.. indeed I was… But I, always aware, as written previously, that it would end .. the ending, how it ended, a very big surprise to Peter.. really underestimated what a brilliant strategist she was.
No, Aura disregarded what the man she married was, closed her eyes , wanted his being.. his access to the West, his identity , at any cost… even being a alcoholic, even that !
There were other things against him. His marriage , his children. He did have a good job with Lufthansa which helped. He was a German citizen, which is what she always wanted.. to go to Germany. To escape from Romania, as so many females.. All anxiously willing to stand up, or lie down, anywhere and obviously, with anyone… for a exit visa.
If she had waited one more year she could have gone anywhere in Europe without him……
So she achieved.. at a price.. So many of her uncertainties swept away by this strong move. Free of the University, free of the thought of semi starvation, free of Peter.. The two secure years she spent with me, the education I gave her. Her serious grasp gained of the English language.. all very sharp arrows to her armoury, Peter fully putting her on her feet, all this, no doubt, carefully calculated. All at a price.
As have said so many times, there is always a price and she paid heavily .
Now, sitting here , with my drink this calm Sunday morning, Cynthia at church .. I can only cross myself ….
Ace , King , Queen, Jack.. in numele, Tatalui si Fiului, si Sfantului Duh, Amin….. I, deeply sorry for her. The fact she had not chosen to confide in me, the insidious deception, the treachery, a bitter disappointment.
I have lost a great deal of the remaining hope, hope carried continuously throughout my existence, over this short, sharp, encounter.
The feeling I have about her now is that she is dead…
Dead inside me.
Smile to my face once it sank in she has come back here to Costinesti, a place where all her inhibitions and hang ups, she did have plenty…were thrown to the wind, with her clothes.
Our first time on the so secluded, languid, beach, I had to rip her bikini off .. after that she never wore anything, regardless of the of the odd man who casually walked so close to us .
Suppose she remembered all this, what other reason did she come back to the Black Sea for??
So far from Frankfurt.
What choked me is that she went back to Costinesti …Peter.. must have realized the odds were short, a good chance of meeting.. knows I am always there.. Now at the chance of the face to face ..she refuses..
To think it was only a few weeks ago I wrote about the remote odds of seeing her again.. and it has come up, like winning the lottery…and in the next Chalet !! there must be a couple of hundred, yet she was next to me… Fate played a wry card..
No answer to this life.
No answer to fate
No answer to the twists and turns between love and hate.
No answer to the slings and arrows of
outrageous fortune.
No answer to Aura, or any other woman on this Planet.
Sunday, August 19, 2001……… 4:06 PM
*****************************************
Another diversion , so quickly am I overtaken by events
On the sixth Of this month, I was, we were, Cynthia, Laura and I at Costinesti on the Black Sea, a place quite comparable to Pattaya…
7.30 a.m. Glorious , hot.
In the chalet next to mine, a older man sitting on the step with a can of beer , looking rather the worse for life. A early starter, I thought . Hardly took any notice . Cynthia came out , immediately greeting this gentleman,
“Oh ! Hello Bernt !! “
“ You know him??” I said, curious.
“Yes , of course”
“ Is it the Belgian man ?”
‘No, it’s the German Man’
“What German man ??”
‘You know.. the one who ran off with Aura! “
Looked at him , looked at Cynthia. Aura..!! German !! did not recognize him.. seen him once or twice before, but he had aged considerably. Looked at him ………
asked the $50 question… ??
‘Where’s Aura ??”
“I left her…” He said deceptively.
Smiled at this, thinking, that’s alright, satisfied..…
Wondered what he was doing here in Costinesti ??
‘Leaving now ..do not like the heavy music “ he did have a point… music??! Decibels… ! twenty four hours every day.
Said to him ‘It’s cheap…”
“Money is of no consideration to me’
Well, I thought . lucky you. Aura gone.. God knows where .. He here… Peter not really thinking too clever..
Laura sitting idly watching all this, taking it all in.. swinging her body to the music plugged into her ears, looking so delicious in her topless nothing, long hair to the waist, skin the colour of bronze.
He looked at her ..looked at her again.. looked at me and disappeared inside his little wooden hut, popping out again with a small child and his junk ..all packed.
Asked whom the child may be ? he quite glib, saying it belonged to the woman he was with, naturally I assumed he had picked up someone with a child.. odd.. but my mind still engrossed on Aura.
He looked at Laura again and announced he was leaving immediately, now.
Laura played it up to the hilt pouting at him… crossing her legs provocatively.
A child came out fully dressed and this woman stepped out after it.. She slightly overweight… dressed.. no one dresses in Costinesti, It is a situation of undress.
She had a green two piece suit on, black, low heel shoes, hair, immaculate, as if she had just stepped from the saloon, only the briefest glimpse of her as she quickly turned her back and strode off ……..”up the garden path”, so to speak.. and they were gone …
Thought to myself “That’s a funny turn out”
Anyway, ten minutes later he comes back, breathless, quite apparently agitated, some pretext, it being he was looking for his watch , told him it was on his wrist.
Could see he was very confused, see he wanted something, other than the watch….
He rushed into the room banged about for a few seconds and came out, obviously having made some decision.
Actually I am married to Aura !!.. been married to her for two months !!:
I, Quite shaken.. very shaken.
‘Was that her who walked out ??”
He said “Yes”
Immediately blew my top
“Why the fuck didn’t she say Hello!! After all I did for her?? She is entitled to say hello.. not simply ignore me”
“Well.. she does not want to speak to you “
“Typical of all of them , none want to say thank you, everything that woman is , irrespective , is what I made her, she was a nonentity, now quite obviously, she is a something, a something to be reckoned with.
He thought it was going to develop into trouble, but I calmed down..
He, seeing the change, became fatuous.. Uriah Heep.. said quietly:
“ Could I ask you a question??”
“Can if you want”
“Did you have sex with Aura ???”
Looked at him straight in the face.. I don’t believe this.. what has Aura told the silly bastard
“Did I have sex with Aura !!!? ”
When did we ever stop having sex!!…What a question…
“To be perfectly fair, now that you are married to her I really cannot answer “
He persisted “Do you have any erotic photographs of her ???”
“Only the one you stole from my apartment…”
Forgot to mention she was the most photographed, most filmed, most fucked, most erotic, most sensuous woman I had ever met .
He was not happy .
Asked where she may be? said she was sitting in a taxi up the road ..Suggested he had better go. He hardly wanted that , he wanted more, more about the woman.. the woman he had so blithely married, a whole barrage of questions which I demurred at..
Eventually he came up with…
"How is it I find $100 bills and 50 mark notes in her pockets ?"
Parried that one saying "Perhaps I gave them to her..”
“No this was after you”
What a stupid bastard..
Aura is obviously still “At It” and she is extremely clever at the ‘game…’ I never knew what was going on until I was told.. The last to know.. Even when the woman in Enescu screamed at her for being a ‘Prostitute” a countered angrily by saying she had made a “mistake!!” never for a moment thinking otherwise.. Men are both blind and stupid when it comes to the other sex, when it comes to the very edge of the precipice.
Clever woman, Aura, loves her occupation, as so many do....
When his back is turned .. same as when mine was.. in England, grinding away on the streets, she in Bucuresti, grinding away on a bed or anywhere, actually.
Thought ..”Well fuck you, you stew in it” ….she has sucked him in and blown him out in bubbles.
Ignoring my initial outburst, had become quite calm. I taken so back , that this unglamorous woman I had just seen was Aura, evidently been partaking of the German cheese cake without consideration to her figure…
Dressed!! She hardly wore enough to cover her fanny when she was with me, Costinesti is a place where everything is let go… people are semi naked
He could see I was elsewhere with my thoughts . His final shot
“ What do you think I should do about her!!?
“ What do you mean? what do I think you should do..??? you married her.. who’s the child ??
“ Oh.. that’s Aura’s nephew”
Fucking Aura..!! she has married the man.. goes to Germany with him.. drags him back to Costinesti.. drags some kid round with her , no doubt to alleviate the boredom….. Auld lang syne!!!
Perhaps she wanted to rekindle a spark of the past, there certainly is not now the slightest spark in the man she married.. married him for what he could give her……..I smiled.. still did not say anything ..let the silly bastard stew in her juice, Done him up like a kipper… indeed she has.. She so clever as any Thai Lady. My best pupil……
Why I did not recognize him being, all the aggravation, the struggle he had with her, has simply aged him. Looked reasonable when I last glimpsed him in the photograph she showed me of them together, they looked the business.. but that was a year ago and time is relentless, remorseless. Infinitely without mercy.
Here was a man, married for thirty years, with three children Aura’s age, now divorced, up to the neck with alimony and Aura shackled to him.
I can only ask , as ever, why are men so stupid ?
Realizing I was not going to give him anything of the past .. he fucked off with a final look at Laura who had intently paid attention to this odd encounter
Quite honestly, once I took a deep breath and thought about it, I was really knocked, really knocked.
How can this be!!
Aura to me, in my eyes, was such a wonderful person, so erotic, so sensuous all the time. One man was useless to her, she was always suggesting her desire for more than one man, as with SOS who knocked off 23 men in one evenings’ entertainment, hardly think Aura has beaten this.. yet…without doubt she could, will …insatiable..
As he walked away, perhaps thinking out loud… said
“I’m going to watch her”
No doubt with reference to the mysterious money in her pockets…
What an attitude to take between what is a fact.. man and wife…
Here is a man married two months to this young woman, she blatantly back to her favorite occupation ..doing what she is best at and getting rewarded for it.. Fair enough…, I am unable to sympathize, I never saw her game, why should he have ?? Unable to sympathize with the man, any man.
Men are stupid when it comes to a woman. I know not one who has come out in front regarding a female.
Mesmerized.. indeed I was… But I, always aware, as written previously, that it would end .. the ending, how it ended, a very big surprise to Peter.. really underestimated what a brilliant strategist she was.
No, Aura disregarded what the man she married was, closed her eyes , wanted his being.. his access to the West, his identity , at any cost… even being a alcoholic, even that !
There were other things against him. His marriage , his children. He did have a good job with Lufthansa which helped. He was a German citizen, which is what she always wanted.. to go to Germany. To escape from Romania, as so many females.. All anxiously willing to stand up, or lie down, anywhere and obviously, with anyone… for a exit visa.
If she had waited one more year she could have gone anywhere in Europe without him……
So she achieved.. at a price.. So many of her uncertainties swept away by this strong move. Free of the University, free of the thought of semi starvation, free of Peter.. The two secure years she spent with me, the education I gave her. Her serious grasp gained of the English language.. all very sharp arrows to her armoury, Peter fully putting her on her feet, all this, no doubt, carefully calculated. All at a price.
As have said so many times, there is always a price and she paid heavily .
Now, sitting here , with my drink this calm Sunday morning, Cynthia at church .. I can only cross myself ….
Ace , King , Queen, Jack.. in numele, Tatalui si Fiului, si Sfantului Duh, Amin….. I, deeply sorry for her. The fact she had not chosen to confide in me, the insidious deception, the treachery, a bitter disappointment.
I have lost a great deal of the remaining hope, hope carried continuously throughout my existence, over this short, sharp, encounter.
The feeling I have about her now is that she is dead…
Dead inside me.
Smile to my face once it sank in she has come back here to Costinesti, a place where all her inhibitions and hang ups, she did have plenty…were thrown to the wind, with her clothes.
Our first time on the so secluded, languid, beach, I had to rip her bikini off .. after that she never wore anything, regardless of the of the odd man who casually walked so close to us .
Suppose she remembered all this, what other reason did she come back to the Black Sea for??
So far from Frankfurt.
What choked me is that she went back to Costinesti …Peter.. must have realized the odds were short, a good chance of meeting.. knows I am always there.. Now at the chance of the face to face ..she refuses..
To think it was only a few weeks ago I wrote about the remote odds of seeing her again.. and it has come up, like winning the lottery…and in the next Chalet !! there must be a couple of hundred, yet she was next to me… Fate played a wry card..
No answer to this life.
No answer to fate
No answer to the twists and turns between love and hate.
No answer to the slings and arrows of
outrageous fortune.
No answer to Aura, or any other woman on this Planet.
Sunday, August 19, 2001……… 4:06 PM
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A Twisted World
Regarding writing and books, long given up any thoughts of having this long diatribe “published” ..in the old terms..
When I first started writing, maybe thirty years ago, publishers were people who were treated with respect, as with the police, doctors, so many other institutions, most institutions are now a subject of mockery, when the Metropolitan police pay a black man $800 a day to “Teach” them how to behave towards the so called “minorities: then respect starts to cave in.. Respect…. a word which is no longer in the English heritage, as so many others. ………….Bravery, distinctly out.
Only very recently was a farmer jailed for life for shooting and wounding only, a persistent burglar. Insult to injury, this same criminal sits on the board deciding the farmer’s fate……… Alice in wonderland !!
Consideration, initiative, honor, such words no longer politically correct. Within fifty years, the country has changed beyond recognition, the past swept away faster than the rest of history put together, people themselves have changed.. the people today who attempt to recreate the past .. even just so far back as the war, fail, because they have had no experience, no conception of those times and cannot see that men were men then.. not simply pressurized, plastic, obedient numbers, under intense, constant, photographic surveillance, as they now are. …
A remarkable government achievement through planned manipulation and control…by the most insidious means….
Far exceeding anything George Orwell could have stretched his imagination to.
Hardly feel political with the old fervor, evident even to the biggest fool that whatever government, whatever faces are up front ..it will make not the slightest difference to the individual in the street .. Government now means “control “ whatever the implied political bias may be.
Unlike most , I have been in the position to simply sit and watch , at times with some amazement, some incredulity at the gullibility of people, exploited quite blatantly by those who call themselves politicians, I could give such beings another label, endless labels, starting with, egotists driven by greed.
Regardless, the masses still struggle on, still hounded by sex, money, and the propagation of the species, still toil to a dubious end, those that have work.
People still get “married” , not with the same conviction in the West, as in my time, then, a point between birth and death, now it is one occasion to get married , another occasion to get divorced, the female with one eye on the net gain. A domestic industry , if you like. Somewhere in the middle are the “children” .
Sit here now, alone, listen to the barking dogs, the stringent car alarms, sound of tires bouncing on cobblestones, the frequent squeal of brakes and the occasional bang of metal against metal. Hardly have to go down the winding spiral stair case and step outside to see the shouting, gesticulating, harassed, pressurized, population, going so very hurriedly about its business on this Tuesday morning. Not even have to close my eyes, can see it all quite clearly, the brilliant sunlight, high overhead, concrete just starting to warm up after the cool night air. ..Bucharest , in full swing.
The pressure not quite off Peter, even now. Still make my appearances in London, still chained in the unrelenting, hot steel box, but only very briefly, hardly feel capable of prolonged exposure to that any longer.. hardly wish to simply die at the steering wheel as my friends have done. Very recently one died quietly in a traffic jam on the corner of Piccadilly and Stratton Street, another found dead in his cab at the Royal Oak … thought he was asleep. Endless faces who have slipped away silently, unnoticed.. alone.. Empty chairs at the long tables , or strange, young, perhaps eager, new faces, showing their new, shiny badges.
When I first started writing, maybe thirty years ago, publishers were people who were treated with respect, as with the police, doctors, so many other institutions, most institutions are now a subject of mockery, when the Metropolitan police pay a black man $800 a day to “Teach” them how to behave towards the so called “minorities: then respect starts to cave in.. Respect…. a word which is no longer in the English heritage, as so many others. ………….Bravery, distinctly out.
Only very recently was a farmer jailed for life for shooting and wounding only, a persistent burglar. Insult to injury, this same criminal sits on the board deciding the farmer’s fate……… Alice in wonderland !!
Consideration, initiative, honor, such words no longer politically correct. Within fifty years, the country has changed beyond recognition, the past swept away faster than the rest of history put together, people themselves have changed.. the people today who attempt to recreate the past .. even just so far back as the war, fail, because they have had no experience, no conception of those times and cannot see that men were men then.. not simply pressurized, plastic, obedient numbers, under intense, constant, photographic surveillance, as they now are. …
A remarkable government achievement through planned manipulation and control…by the most insidious means….
Far exceeding anything George Orwell could have stretched his imagination to.
Hardly feel political with the old fervor, evident even to the biggest fool that whatever government, whatever faces are up front ..it will make not the slightest difference to the individual in the street .. Government now means “control “ whatever the implied political bias may be.
Unlike most , I have been in the position to simply sit and watch , at times with some amazement, some incredulity at the gullibility of people, exploited quite blatantly by those who call themselves politicians, I could give such beings another label, endless labels, starting with, egotists driven by greed.
Regardless, the masses still struggle on, still hounded by sex, money, and the propagation of the species, still toil to a dubious end, those that have work.
People still get “married” , not with the same conviction in the West, as in my time, then, a point between birth and death, now it is one occasion to get married , another occasion to get divorced, the female with one eye on the net gain. A domestic industry , if you like. Somewhere in the middle are the “children” .
Sit here now, alone, listen to the barking dogs, the stringent car alarms, sound of tires bouncing on cobblestones, the frequent squeal of brakes and the occasional bang of metal against metal. Hardly have to go down the winding spiral stair case and step outside to see the shouting, gesticulating, harassed, pressurized, population, going so very hurriedly about its business on this Tuesday morning. Not even have to close my eyes, can see it all quite clearly, the brilliant sunlight, high overhead, concrete just starting to warm up after the cool night air. ..Bucharest , in full swing.
The pressure not quite off Peter, even now. Still make my appearances in London, still chained in the unrelenting, hot steel box, but only very briefly, hardly feel capable of prolonged exposure to that any longer.. hardly wish to simply die at the steering wheel as my friends have done. Very recently one died quietly in a traffic jam on the corner of Piccadilly and Stratton Street, another found dead in his cab at the Royal Oak … thought he was asleep. Endless faces who have slipped away silently, unnoticed.. alone.. Empty chairs at the long tables , or strange, young, perhaps eager, new faces, showing their new, shiny badges.
Friday, July 27th ….2001.
As said so many times over the years, difficult to keep picking up pieces of my existence , so much occurring by way of distraction.
Now nine months since Aura and I parted with such bitter hostility, have not seen her, which hardly means I have not thought about her. My only conclusion is that it was a tragedy .. a strong word … perhaps, but I hardly sit and think for so very long without coming up with a few well placed words.
Aura falls in the category of Jennifer, AndreeA ..someone who will not go away from the back of my brain, ever, someone I will always watch out for, but never see again. There have been one or two exceptions to this, but the odds are heavily against.
I resist going to those places we always went….the park “The” park where we strolled on the summer sunny afternoons, she looking quite incredibly attractive in her short skirt, showing her long legs, her brief tops showing all of her which discretion would allow.. ..The looks we received from those squatting on the benches in the shade, they looked and actually stopped talking while we passed, their eyes following us ..a unusual “couple ‘ to say the least.
No, such moments in eternity are stamped indelibly, they are but “moments” against the reality.. A very harsh one.
Her deception of Peter, done with the skill of a professional, has never ceased to amaze me,. a simple country girl originally ….
Invariably, without exception, they all have bitten the hand that fed them. No doubt, she applied the same effort to her double life as passing her solicitors exams… with deep determination.
Played her part all the way to Otopeni Airport, where, I am told, she waited patiently for the German to arrive just a few hours after my departure, such impeccable timing…
Not quite so blatant as Pa at Bangkok Airport when she picked up the Swiss man, actually in the airport while I was waiting for a baggage check, she did look a million dollars, with her hair platted Thai fashion, down below her waste, a white bolero top which concealed nothing, briefest of white shorts and high heeled shoes supporting her five foot nothing exceptional chassis. Midnight and the place had almost come to a standstill staring at her.. She waved and smiled at me Returned to Pattaya with him in the cab I had paid for.. told me this with some hilarity.
No deception on her part… No treachery… we played by the rules…
Aura played for Aura … I can never even start to forgive her for that.
Possibly, to other people, my life has at least been different, then, as I have reiterated to all the those who hang back from changing their lives, that which I have, what I appear to have, is something I have worked for.. worked for consistently, maybe unconsciously, working to this vague undefined end, to sit here in Bucuresti, this glorious sunny morning, in relative peace and dare I say it, with comparative few problems. Only in such backwaters of time am I able to sit, wait, fornicate…….. write.
Now nine months since Aura and I parted with such bitter hostility, have not seen her, which hardly means I have not thought about her. My only conclusion is that it was a tragedy .. a strong word … perhaps, but I hardly sit and think for so very long without coming up with a few well placed words.
Aura falls in the category of Jennifer, AndreeA ..someone who will not go away from the back of my brain, ever, someone I will always watch out for, but never see again. There have been one or two exceptions to this, but the odds are heavily against.
I resist going to those places we always went….the park “The” park where we strolled on the summer sunny afternoons, she looking quite incredibly attractive in her short skirt, showing her long legs, her brief tops showing all of her which discretion would allow.. ..The looks we received from those squatting on the benches in the shade, they looked and actually stopped talking while we passed, their eyes following us ..a unusual “couple ‘ to say the least.
No, such moments in eternity are stamped indelibly, they are but “moments” against the reality.. A very harsh one.
Her deception of Peter, done with the skill of a professional, has never ceased to amaze me,. a simple country girl originally ….
Invariably, without exception, they all have bitten the hand that fed them. No doubt, she applied the same effort to her double life as passing her solicitors exams… with deep determination.
Played her part all the way to Otopeni Airport, where, I am told, she waited patiently for the German to arrive just a few hours after my departure, such impeccable timing…
Not quite so blatant as Pa at Bangkok Airport when she picked up the Swiss man, actually in the airport while I was waiting for a baggage check, she did look a million dollars, with her hair platted Thai fashion, down below her waste, a white bolero top which concealed nothing, briefest of white shorts and high heeled shoes supporting her five foot nothing exceptional chassis. Midnight and the place had almost come to a standstill staring at her.. She waved and smiled at me Returned to Pattaya with him in the cab I had paid for.. told me this with some hilarity.
No deception on her part… No treachery… we played by the rules…
Aura played for Aura … I can never even start to forgive her for that.
Possibly, to other people, my life has at least been different, then, as I have reiterated to all the those who hang back from changing their lives, that which I have, what I appear to have, is something I have worked for.. worked for consistently, maybe unconsciously, working to this vague undefined end, to sit here in Bucuresti, this glorious sunny morning, in relative peace and dare I say it, with comparative few problems. Only in such backwaters of time am I able to sit, wait, fornicate…….. write.
Pattaya and Pa………….
Not difficult to recall the beginning of the eight months that I lost contact with reality, now, at the end of this period, the difficulties arise, the gradual realization of having been left with nothing through the experience and the further realization that when one is down and alone, people revert to their basic instincts, even people I had considered friends, relatives included, these people will, unhesitatingly, go for whatever they consider is worth the taking, even your home ,with a certain air of disdain, willing to condescend to letting one live in a back room “Share kitchen and bathroom” fortunate to be given such favorable terms.. In my case I quickly started to recover at the thought, not having seen my son or his wife since that day.
My slide into obscurity began inauspiciously in Pattaya, in Thailand, by the pool in the Palm Villa Hotel, the first week of January. 1993.
I thinking of London, cold, bleak, the body moving business, the Turks, SuJack, only in the odd moments... when not preoccupied with the Sun, the practically idyllic surroundings, the young, very young, nubile girls, dressed in the briefest of swimwear, splashing aimlessly in the azure water, as if time did not exist, as if there were no reality, as if whatever had passed before in my life had been part of a prolonged, painful, dream.
Pa there, determinedly playing cards with some of the girls in the shade, sitting tightly cross-legged on a white, wide, high back chair, playing for big stakes, a fiercely determined expression on her face, never seen that before, she was always so soft, so unconcerned , so considerate. Maybe I had noticed a change in her a few days previously, but dismissed it as imagination. Having known her for a long time, she had never been anything but attentive towards me.
Never able to forget our first meeting during the April Water Festival.... had been on the motor bike cruising.. looking ..the usual thing.... There had been a big commotion outside the 'No Hands Bar' I stopped in the crowd , water and packets of flour being flung everywhere . Suddenly out of the melee she was running, laughing, being chased by two or three men. She simply jumped on the back of the bike, revved it and rushed away with her clinging quite unconcernedly to me , as if we had always known each other, head on my shoulder, arms clasped about my practically bare body.
Something had clicked shut inside my mind at that precise moment in time, as if I were suddenly complete, as if all my searching for whatever it was that had always eluded me, had finally been found. Such was her impact on my existence. A strange, unreal, sensation , all the wrongs of my life had suddenly been righted, that nothing, nothing else at all mattered, simply that this completely unknown young woman. was with me .
From that moment I had lived her, breathed her, never for a split second doubting that she also felt the same way regarding myself.
That meeting had occurred when it was “Come in Number Seven” my time up, almost immediately after that fateful day, quite devastated at the realization, trying to think of any way to stay on. Going through all the normal procedures, getting all the normal rejections at the Airline ticket office . Certainly I could stay on, only it would cost a arm and a leg. These people not being slow seizing on any such situation, the slightest opportunity to make the dollar. I simply could not match their terms. It meant going back to the real world. That last evening alone with her being one of the longest and most painful in my life.
We sat quietly in my white room at the V and M Terrace Hotel, the window looking onto the small garden, the Blue Cross on the hospital opposite, already flashing in the soft dusk of evening. Looked at her few pathetic things.. the sum total of her life spread out before her. the whole lot fitting into a small hold all. She would need money until I returned within the month, not only for herself but for her child and mother.. .also her fare up into the sticks in Laos. I tried to imagine what she described , in her broken, halting English . A tin roofed hut , bamboo walls, the lot standing on poles above the water complete with buffalo beneath. Everywhere infested, no doubt, with mosquitoes. Electricity at a price, a television she had managed to get for her small son. Water had to be carried. She told this story flat, without any emphasis, her voice soft, calm. I asked about the boy . A man , a man from Denmark had suggested a child, she had replied "Why Not?' never seeing him again. The usual story repeated over and over by every girl . A certain hope mixed with fatalism, a resignation to the inevitable.
It had taken two years and about ten trips before I started waking up to Pa .. the euphoria sliding slowly, silently, away , my visits not quite fitting in with her schedules I, becoming little more than part of her payroll ..someone to be tolerated with that aspect in mind ……………a feature of Thai existence
Dave, an accountant, quietly on the run for fiddling clients accounts, a very pleasant, talkative man, asked why I was putting up with 'The Treatment" " You should out her". Nodding towards Pa, who by now had been glaring at me almost with contempt after my trying to break up her card game. She was in for about 5000bhts. A months wages "straight" out there would be about 1000bhts. A twelve hour day for one pound Sterling
Started to feel as if small pieces of my brain were breaking away inside my head, becoming difficult to focus on anything , anything other the painful fact that Pa was giving me a very hard time, looking very attractive in her bikini, the glasses added something rather than detracted, reminding me of someone I used to know, rare to see a young, Thai woman with them, they kept slipping down her nose on the perspiration, she pushing them back with her so small, so beautifully manicured index finger.
The sun burnt down on the men somehow washed up on this tranquil shore, so far and so different from what was previously known to them, surrounded by sex, its inherent problems,. which could conveniently be dropped the moment they arose, by those astute enough….. a type of freedom now mostly unknown in Western Civilization . Evidently I was one of those who could not simply walk away, unable to look elsewhere, as if ordering a different meal at a restaurant.
Pa had a tight grip on my existence, knowing instinctively what was expected from a woman and knowing exactly how to give it..
Quite small, well built, all the right things in all the right places, her head reaching halfway up my chest. Long thick, completely straight, black hair reaching below her waist. I always insisted pleated in the traditional Thai way with three different colored ribbons. She moved distinctively, as a tigress.
Sat brooding, finding faults with her, real or imaginary, doing some arithmetic as to her running costs. The previous day simply having to buy her some glasses, her eyesight had become really bad when it came to reading, had noticed her squinting in the past but let it go. Glasses out there are not cheap, nothing is really cheap in Thailand, you pay one way or the other. Today part of her sulks was that I failed to come up with her stake money. Noticed she had not stopped hitting the Sinhga beer, probably the strongest in the world, made with Embalming fluid. She could down seven bottles a night, one would put most men out for the night
Finally the sun started to slope away from the vertical, moving into the trees throwing long patches of shade onto the hot concrete, Slightly cooler, the old men began lifting their bodies from the beds and deck chairs, the girls busy round them wiping their extended layers of fat with colored towels. Then drifting off in pairs hand in hand towards the bungalows . Pa and her three companions remained absorbed in the game which had now been going on all day, during that time she had acknowledged my existence enough to ask me for some money and to order a meal for her.
Looked at the pool, its exotic surroundings, every inch of it etched in my brain with a needle of steel, realizing that most of the few good things I had ever experienced in my existence had happened in, near, or by this particular spot.
The deterioration in my mental condition accelerated from that moment. Suddenly deciding to get up, walk into the hotel, get money from the safe, get on my motor bike and go round to the V&M Terrace Hotel and book in, a place where I was well known, having stayed there many times.
Felt agitated, guilty, nervous, attempting desperately to smile at all the cleaning girls who were finishing work for the day.. Gaily laughing at me, wanting to know where I had been , why I had not visited them, remarking the amount of weight I had lost since my previous trip. These ladies missed nothing, not the slightest detail, their lives absorbed in other people's. Amazingly they always seemed so cheerful, always smiling on their one pound sterling a day. A full twelve hours.
Pa had not bothered to look up from her cards at my departure. For some reason I did not want her to become aware of my movements, becoming obsessively secretive, imperative that I did not see her again, simply unable to face her not wanting me , hiding, my only solution, knowing that this was symptomatic of the illness eating into my head.
The receptionist at the V & M looked at me in a way that stuck in mind. Knew the woman quite well, yet she was looking into, rather than at me, as if she could see something I only becoming aware of . Gave me my old room on the ground floor with the small garden outside the window.
This, a mistake, Pa and I had spent long periods of time between the air conditioned, white, walls, the blue cross on the hospital opposite burning through night. A room intensely full of memories, but, too late, too late to move, little more strength left, it had been eaten away by the turmoil, stress, anguish, confusion in my brain.
Instinctively, knew that by now Pa would be starting to look. Waiting, back in the bungalow, its rickety, high one room. Its’ huge bed with the torn mattress, the fan gyrating slowly, endlessly, the lizards motionless, hanging on the beams, crickets and frogs starting their evening chorus.
She would be in the shower, water pouring, cascading. The long hair, down below her waist, clinging over her small firm breasts. Apparent, I would have to get back, collect my gear, face her, in spite of my misgivings, yet, I did not want to upset the situation, did not want any scene, she, just as fragile underneath all that professionalism, all that confidence.
Went down to the 'No Hands Bar' needed a drink something, anything, to throw off this deep depression that had gripped me so tightly. People looking at me, at my face, asking "Where ‘s Pa ?" we inseparable and "why don’t you get rid of her.. tell her to simply go away" Most of all they delighted in reminding me that she was “Queen of the Billionaires Bar", what this entailed, can only be left to the imagination.
I hardly cared what she was , or had been. She had always been everything I ever wanted, there were never any arguments, never spoke about the other side of her existence, or mine. When men who obviously knew her approached, she would ignore them. Only once, very late, at the Bamboo bar, did she suddenly get up and walk carefully amongst the crowd, finally sitting close to a man on a wicker sofa in the far corner of the darkened room… I had looked again …………and they were both gone.
Returned to the Palm Villa. Dark, the darkness had come suddenly, no long twilight , walked between the bungalows sitting in the thick tropical growth of trees and flowers, trying to get some control over myself and my feelings
Key in the door she lying naked, front down on the bed in the darkened room, pillow under her chest, head cupped in her hands, watching the box, the light flickering on her face, from the pornography . Turned her head towards me, a small question mark.. probably aware that my body was trembling, rolled to her side holding an arm out to me. …something I could no longer handle.. . more or less falling into the shower trying to control my brain which was badly fluctuating, realizing that it was now imperative for me to get back to the U.K. ... no longer capable of handling Pa or the whole situation . Many other men had also stumbled badly, disastrously in this situation ………the strange mystique of this dreamland ,so remote from reality.
The room in darkness other from reflected lights outside, she lay quite still on the bed.
Eight o’clock, knew, whatever happened, she would be wide awake and ready for the “off” at Midnight.
Swallowed a sleeping pill, gave one to her . Strangely she had never questioned what I gave her to take and there had been a few concoctions. She put the glass back on the sloping, broken, table next to the bed , my body uneasily next to hers.
"What's wrong Peter??” all her aggression gone.
I never answered. It was impossible express my feelings, how to explain myself
“Do you want sex?"
she persisted, rolling on to me, so incredibly soft in every respect in every conceivable way, the electricity passing from her made my every nerve end tingle.
Remained motionless, a cold perspiration running off my head into my eyes.
She waited, poised, her finger tips moving across my skin, my mouth became tight and dry, my body paralyzed with doubts, indecision’s and desire.
"Why don't you speak?"
Whispering, her breath cool and clear, her mouth rubbing my ear, so very gently, as if afraid the slightest discord would completely fracture the fragile situation, plunging us into a final nowhere
It seemed a very long time before she slid off my inertia, turning on her side away from me
Opened my eyes……the light on.
She, sitting at the small wooden dressing table .. watched the movement of her breasts in the mirror as the brush pulled down her long hair, the only make up she ever wore was a color round her eyes, tonight , a very pale green .
With one of my shirts on, a pair of shorts cut to her navel, pair of white, high heels, nothing else She, ready...captivating.. the business…..
Looked at my watch, one minute past midnight………. She precisely on time, moved, sitting on the edge of the bed, intent, intent on Peter.
"Your tired…go to sleep”
Her small hand over my eyes.
"I won't be long ......"
Her voice soft, tender, gentle, as if to sooth me back to oblivion.. At her best…the moment she set foot onto the pathway between the bungalows, I would be forgotten totally and completely , her only misgiving, that her charm may not work, that I may suddenly want to go with her. Her mind firmly fixed on the "Strip” and the "Marine Bar" in particular, to be free , hardly needed Peter there………..
Played my part, "Goodnight doll... don't drink too much and be careful"
Trying to sound as if about to drop off.
She poised hesitantly, so very beautiful, her face a perfect, small oval, a picture of complete innocence.
"Oh !” almost forgetting my the next move.
"Take some money off the side"
She brightened at this.
"and remember if I go out will leave the key under the plants beside the door"
Tried to make this sound casual.... whatever, not wanting her making a racket after staggering back at daylight, unable to get in, the place deserted. She did a half take, kissed me on the cheek, quickly picked up the necessary and was gone, silent, like a ghost.
We were never to see each other again.
Waited a long time in the absolute silence. All creatures great and small, had gone to sleep, even the lizards had finally locked themselves motionless on the high wooden beams, the dogs had ceased barking faintly in the distance, the hard, arrogant, incessant grunt of the German next door finally stopped, the moans of his so young companion died away. The only time he ever left her alone was during his sleep.
Almost one a.m. night poised, expectant, things starting to buzz on the “Strip”
By now Pa would have jumped on the knee of the first man she fancied in the huge, hot, reverberating, crowded room, regardless of whom he was with, arms round him, her warm firm body pressed tight, the voltage surging out from her. There could be no resistance.
Felt suddenly very sad, isolated, looked about the room I knew so well, the soft light from the bedside lamp throwing long shadows up the walls and onto the remains of what had been.
*******************************************************
There was more junk to pack than appeared possible, shoved it in the bags anyhow, a sense of urgency , no way did I want Pa to come strolling nonchalantly back having become bored with the scene down the road. She did have sane moments. I would have been mincemeat to her in such a conciliatory mood, spreading her strong self over me, smothering any resolution I may have left, astride, on top of my body, refusing to dismount until I was just a sweat soaked, wreck.
Finally, everything appeared to be together, all that remained was a last gesture towards Pa. The rickety dressing table, the two hair clips she had demanded In the "Day and Night" A brush, the full Bart wedding ring she had so ceremoniously bought me, I placed on top of photographs of us together.
Meticulously tidied the table up, could hear them saying "You didn’t leave her money!"
Put a few hundred dollars under the photographs, the watch, next to the ring, had liked that. Everyone had been in total disbelief of her buying a ring…for Peter…. such a large piece of gold for a Farang… almost without precedent, the rickety table, a shrine, if you like, to what had been.
There was a great deal of pressure. Underneath all this something was saying “You’re a miserable bastard" which is true "you know she doesn’t have a pot to piss in", which was also true.
These ladies, mostly have little to show for giving their best years to the Farang, almost everything going to their parents and their children. But I had run before, there had been other females, other faces, other places.
Simply survival… my survival. Most men quickly lose the initiative, the ability to run, too burdened with “what is” the hole they have all so unwittingly dug themselves so deeply into.
By the time I dragged myself out into soft, scented night, stars hanging on the rooftops, placed the key under the plants, struggled down to Soi.2, I, almost in a state of collapse.
The Taxi swirled to a stop in a cloud of dust beside me, threw my junk into the open back, fell in after it and was rushed unceremoniously away on my long journey back, back to deepest, darkest, Hackney and the gaunt hospital where they still possessed the records from my previous breakdown a decade ago.
My slide into obscurity began inauspiciously in Pattaya, in Thailand, by the pool in the Palm Villa Hotel, the first week of January. 1993.
I thinking of London, cold, bleak, the body moving business, the Turks, SuJack, only in the odd moments... when not preoccupied with the Sun, the practically idyllic surroundings, the young, very young, nubile girls, dressed in the briefest of swimwear, splashing aimlessly in the azure water, as if time did not exist, as if there were no reality, as if whatever had passed before in my life had been part of a prolonged, painful, dream.
Pa there, determinedly playing cards with some of the girls in the shade, sitting tightly cross-legged on a white, wide, high back chair, playing for big stakes, a fiercely determined expression on her face, never seen that before, she was always so soft, so unconcerned , so considerate. Maybe I had noticed a change in her a few days previously, but dismissed it as imagination. Having known her for a long time, she had never been anything but attentive towards me.
Never able to forget our first meeting during the April Water Festival.... had been on the motor bike cruising.. looking ..the usual thing.... There had been a big commotion outside the 'No Hands Bar' I stopped in the crowd , water and packets of flour being flung everywhere . Suddenly out of the melee she was running, laughing, being chased by two or three men. She simply jumped on the back of the bike, revved it and rushed away with her clinging quite unconcernedly to me , as if we had always known each other, head on my shoulder, arms clasped about my practically bare body.
Something had clicked shut inside my mind at that precise moment in time, as if I were suddenly complete, as if all my searching for whatever it was that had always eluded me, had finally been found. Such was her impact on my existence. A strange, unreal, sensation , all the wrongs of my life had suddenly been righted, that nothing, nothing else at all mattered, simply that this completely unknown young woman. was with me .
From that moment I had lived her, breathed her, never for a split second doubting that she also felt the same way regarding myself.
That meeting had occurred when it was “Come in Number Seven” my time up, almost immediately after that fateful day, quite devastated at the realization, trying to think of any way to stay on. Going through all the normal procedures, getting all the normal rejections at the Airline ticket office . Certainly I could stay on, only it would cost a arm and a leg. These people not being slow seizing on any such situation, the slightest opportunity to make the dollar. I simply could not match their terms. It meant going back to the real world. That last evening alone with her being one of the longest and most painful in my life.
We sat quietly in my white room at the V and M Terrace Hotel, the window looking onto the small garden, the Blue Cross on the hospital opposite, already flashing in the soft dusk of evening. Looked at her few pathetic things.. the sum total of her life spread out before her. the whole lot fitting into a small hold all. She would need money until I returned within the month, not only for herself but for her child and mother.. .also her fare up into the sticks in Laos. I tried to imagine what she described , in her broken, halting English . A tin roofed hut , bamboo walls, the lot standing on poles above the water complete with buffalo beneath. Everywhere infested, no doubt, with mosquitoes. Electricity at a price, a television she had managed to get for her small son. Water had to be carried. She told this story flat, without any emphasis, her voice soft, calm. I asked about the boy . A man , a man from Denmark had suggested a child, she had replied "Why Not?' never seeing him again. The usual story repeated over and over by every girl . A certain hope mixed with fatalism, a resignation to the inevitable.
It had taken two years and about ten trips before I started waking up to Pa .. the euphoria sliding slowly, silently, away , my visits not quite fitting in with her schedules I, becoming little more than part of her payroll ..someone to be tolerated with that aspect in mind ……………a feature of Thai existence
Dave, an accountant, quietly on the run for fiddling clients accounts, a very pleasant, talkative man, asked why I was putting up with 'The Treatment" " You should out her". Nodding towards Pa, who by now had been glaring at me almost with contempt after my trying to break up her card game. She was in for about 5000bhts. A months wages "straight" out there would be about 1000bhts. A twelve hour day for one pound Sterling
Started to feel as if small pieces of my brain were breaking away inside my head, becoming difficult to focus on anything , anything other the painful fact that Pa was giving me a very hard time, looking very attractive in her bikini, the glasses added something rather than detracted, reminding me of someone I used to know, rare to see a young, Thai woman with them, they kept slipping down her nose on the perspiration, she pushing them back with her so small, so beautifully manicured index finger.
The sun burnt down on the men somehow washed up on this tranquil shore, so far and so different from what was previously known to them, surrounded by sex, its inherent problems,. which could conveniently be dropped the moment they arose, by those astute enough….. a type of freedom now mostly unknown in Western Civilization . Evidently I was one of those who could not simply walk away, unable to look elsewhere, as if ordering a different meal at a restaurant.
Pa had a tight grip on my existence, knowing instinctively what was expected from a woman and knowing exactly how to give it..
Quite small, well built, all the right things in all the right places, her head reaching halfway up my chest. Long thick, completely straight, black hair reaching below her waist. I always insisted pleated in the traditional Thai way with three different colored ribbons. She moved distinctively, as a tigress.
Sat brooding, finding faults with her, real or imaginary, doing some arithmetic as to her running costs. The previous day simply having to buy her some glasses, her eyesight had become really bad when it came to reading, had noticed her squinting in the past but let it go. Glasses out there are not cheap, nothing is really cheap in Thailand, you pay one way or the other. Today part of her sulks was that I failed to come up with her stake money. Noticed she had not stopped hitting the Sinhga beer, probably the strongest in the world, made with Embalming fluid. She could down seven bottles a night, one would put most men out for the night
Finally the sun started to slope away from the vertical, moving into the trees throwing long patches of shade onto the hot concrete, Slightly cooler, the old men began lifting their bodies from the beds and deck chairs, the girls busy round them wiping their extended layers of fat with colored towels. Then drifting off in pairs hand in hand towards the bungalows . Pa and her three companions remained absorbed in the game which had now been going on all day, during that time she had acknowledged my existence enough to ask me for some money and to order a meal for her.
Looked at the pool, its exotic surroundings, every inch of it etched in my brain with a needle of steel, realizing that most of the few good things I had ever experienced in my existence had happened in, near, or by this particular spot.
The deterioration in my mental condition accelerated from that moment. Suddenly deciding to get up, walk into the hotel, get money from the safe, get on my motor bike and go round to the V&M Terrace Hotel and book in, a place where I was well known, having stayed there many times.
Felt agitated, guilty, nervous, attempting desperately to smile at all the cleaning girls who were finishing work for the day.. Gaily laughing at me, wanting to know where I had been , why I had not visited them, remarking the amount of weight I had lost since my previous trip. These ladies missed nothing, not the slightest detail, their lives absorbed in other people's. Amazingly they always seemed so cheerful, always smiling on their one pound sterling a day. A full twelve hours.
Pa had not bothered to look up from her cards at my departure. For some reason I did not want her to become aware of my movements, becoming obsessively secretive, imperative that I did not see her again, simply unable to face her not wanting me , hiding, my only solution, knowing that this was symptomatic of the illness eating into my head.
The receptionist at the V & M looked at me in a way that stuck in mind. Knew the woman quite well, yet she was looking into, rather than at me, as if she could see something I only becoming aware of . Gave me my old room on the ground floor with the small garden outside the window.
This, a mistake, Pa and I had spent long periods of time between the air conditioned, white, walls, the blue cross on the hospital opposite burning through night. A room intensely full of memories, but, too late, too late to move, little more strength left, it had been eaten away by the turmoil, stress, anguish, confusion in my brain.
Instinctively, knew that by now Pa would be starting to look. Waiting, back in the bungalow, its rickety, high one room. Its’ huge bed with the torn mattress, the fan gyrating slowly, endlessly, the lizards motionless, hanging on the beams, crickets and frogs starting their evening chorus.
She would be in the shower, water pouring, cascading. The long hair, down below her waist, clinging over her small firm breasts. Apparent, I would have to get back, collect my gear, face her, in spite of my misgivings, yet, I did not want to upset the situation, did not want any scene, she, just as fragile underneath all that professionalism, all that confidence.
Went down to the 'No Hands Bar' needed a drink something, anything, to throw off this deep depression that had gripped me so tightly. People looking at me, at my face, asking "Where ‘s Pa ?" we inseparable and "why don’t you get rid of her.. tell her to simply go away" Most of all they delighted in reminding me that she was “Queen of the Billionaires Bar", what this entailed, can only be left to the imagination.
I hardly cared what she was , or had been. She had always been everything I ever wanted, there were never any arguments, never spoke about the other side of her existence, or mine. When men who obviously knew her approached, she would ignore them. Only once, very late, at the Bamboo bar, did she suddenly get up and walk carefully amongst the crowd, finally sitting close to a man on a wicker sofa in the far corner of the darkened room… I had looked again …………and they were both gone.
Returned to the Palm Villa. Dark, the darkness had come suddenly, no long twilight , walked between the bungalows sitting in the thick tropical growth of trees and flowers, trying to get some control over myself and my feelings
Key in the door she lying naked, front down on the bed in the darkened room, pillow under her chest, head cupped in her hands, watching the box, the light flickering on her face, from the pornography . Turned her head towards me, a small question mark.. probably aware that my body was trembling, rolled to her side holding an arm out to me. …something I could no longer handle.. . more or less falling into the shower trying to control my brain which was badly fluctuating, realizing that it was now imperative for me to get back to the U.K. ... no longer capable of handling Pa or the whole situation . Many other men had also stumbled badly, disastrously in this situation ………the strange mystique of this dreamland ,so remote from reality.
The room in darkness other from reflected lights outside, she lay quite still on the bed.
Eight o’clock, knew, whatever happened, she would be wide awake and ready for the “off” at Midnight.
Swallowed a sleeping pill, gave one to her . Strangely she had never questioned what I gave her to take and there had been a few concoctions. She put the glass back on the sloping, broken, table next to the bed , my body uneasily next to hers.
"What's wrong Peter??” all her aggression gone.
I never answered. It was impossible express my feelings, how to explain myself
“Do you want sex?"
she persisted, rolling on to me, so incredibly soft in every respect in every conceivable way, the electricity passing from her made my every nerve end tingle.
Remained motionless, a cold perspiration running off my head into my eyes.
She waited, poised, her finger tips moving across my skin, my mouth became tight and dry, my body paralyzed with doubts, indecision’s and desire.
"Why don't you speak?"
Whispering, her breath cool and clear, her mouth rubbing my ear, so very gently, as if afraid the slightest discord would completely fracture the fragile situation, plunging us into a final nowhere
It seemed a very long time before she slid off my inertia, turning on her side away from me
Opened my eyes……the light on.
She, sitting at the small wooden dressing table .. watched the movement of her breasts in the mirror as the brush pulled down her long hair, the only make up she ever wore was a color round her eyes, tonight , a very pale green .
With one of my shirts on, a pair of shorts cut to her navel, pair of white, high heels, nothing else She, ready...captivating.. the business…..
Looked at my watch, one minute past midnight………. She precisely on time, moved, sitting on the edge of the bed, intent, intent on Peter.
"Your tired…go to sleep”
Her small hand over my eyes.
"I won't be long ......"
Her voice soft, tender, gentle, as if to sooth me back to oblivion.. At her best…the moment she set foot onto the pathway between the bungalows, I would be forgotten totally and completely , her only misgiving, that her charm may not work, that I may suddenly want to go with her. Her mind firmly fixed on the "Strip” and the "Marine Bar" in particular, to be free , hardly needed Peter there………..
Played my part, "Goodnight doll... don't drink too much and be careful"
Trying to sound as if about to drop off.
She poised hesitantly, so very beautiful, her face a perfect, small oval, a picture of complete innocence.
"Oh !” almost forgetting my the next move.
"Take some money off the side"
She brightened at this.
"and remember if I go out will leave the key under the plants beside the door"
Tried to make this sound casual.... whatever, not wanting her making a racket after staggering back at daylight, unable to get in, the place deserted. She did a half take, kissed me on the cheek, quickly picked up the necessary and was gone, silent, like a ghost.
We were never to see each other again.
Waited a long time in the absolute silence. All creatures great and small, had gone to sleep, even the lizards had finally locked themselves motionless on the high wooden beams, the dogs had ceased barking faintly in the distance, the hard, arrogant, incessant grunt of the German next door finally stopped, the moans of his so young companion died away. The only time he ever left her alone was during his sleep.
Almost one a.m. night poised, expectant, things starting to buzz on the “Strip”
By now Pa would have jumped on the knee of the first man she fancied in the huge, hot, reverberating, crowded room, regardless of whom he was with, arms round him, her warm firm body pressed tight, the voltage surging out from her. There could be no resistance.
Felt suddenly very sad, isolated, looked about the room I knew so well, the soft light from the bedside lamp throwing long shadows up the walls and onto the remains of what had been.
*******************************************************
There was more junk to pack than appeared possible, shoved it in the bags anyhow, a sense of urgency , no way did I want Pa to come strolling nonchalantly back having become bored with the scene down the road. She did have sane moments. I would have been mincemeat to her in such a conciliatory mood, spreading her strong self over me, smothering any resolution I may have left, astride, on top of my body, refusing to dismount until I was just a sweat soaked, wreck.
Finally, everything appeared to be together, all that remained was a last gesture towards Pa. The rickety dressing table, the two hair clips she had demanded In the "Day and Night" A brush, the full Bart wedding ring she had so ceremoniously bought me, I placed on top of photographs of us together.
Meticulously tidied the table up, could hear them saying "You didn’t leave her money!"
Put a few hundred dollars under the photographs, the watch, next to the ring, had liked that. Everyone had been in total disbelief of her buying a ring…for Peter…. such a large piece of gold for a Farang… almost without precedent, the rickety table, a shrine, if you like, to what had been.
There was a great deal of pressure. Underneath all this something was saying “You’re a miserable bastard" which is true "you know she doesn’t have a pot to piss in", which was also true.
These ladies, mostly have little to show for giving their best years to the Farang, almost everything going to their parents and their children. But I had run before, there had been other females, other faces, other places.
Simply survival… my survival. Most men quickly lose the initiative, the ability to run, too burdened with “what is” the hole they have all so unwittingly dug themselves so deeply into.
By the time I dragged myself out into soft, scented night, stars hanging on the rooftops, placed the key under the plants, struggled down to Soi.2, I, almost in a state of collapse.
The Taxi swirled to a stop in a cloud of dust beside me, threw my junk into the open back, fell in after it and was rushed unceremoniously away on my long journey back, back to deepest, darkest, Hackney and the gaunt hospital where they still possessed the records from my previous breakdown a decade ago.
Salih's Photographic Days
With profound relief went to the garage, sorted out the cabs.
Salih and the Turkish mob, unhappy with my frequent departures to distant places….most disconcerted.
"What !!! you going again!!!" .. all looking daggers at me.. all tied tight to their wives, ”families” unable to move.
Quite apparent, the Turkish people, the cabs and I were not really in harmony. My trips really getting to them. But what was their problem?? They, getting paid rather well. Every Friday after noon… every one… I put $600 cash in Salih's overalls pocket.. he never counted it .. no need to .. I had never been short.. simply patted the pocket…smiled.. he never complained.. about that…!
If someone were giving me that kind of money ..especially as it were tax free, would hardly question their life style.. .. If it were me .. would keep my mouth shut tight.
No, Salih, motivated entirely by greed and jealousy, as so many people on this Planet, he could not do that, keep his mouth shut.. few people can…especially as the previous summer, back in Cyprus with his old woman.. on the beach.. the story goes.. bought himself a camera.
(If I had a camera, he wanted one.. he had leant a few tricks from Peter..)
Now…on the beach.. the story goes, saw this girl, topless, saw his opportunity… instead of dutifully snapping his wife, the grandchildren, the languid surf and the seagulls, he turned the camera intending to photograph the young lady.. her firm breasts, her youth, her vitality.. her everything he ever wanted when lying at night, with the woman of his youth now fat, faintly smelling , long devoid of any desire ..longed to recapture his longing, his desire, on film.. he, so suddenly full of bravado !
His wife .. very close to him, watching, as ever , as always, unfortunately, read this diabolical thought on his face and with her fat fist .. which was the same size as any man's.. simply did not hit him …she hit the camera which smashed into his head, giving him the most wonderful pair of black eyes I had seen in a very long time.
End of his photographic days..
Naturally….
My fault…!!
Salih and the Turkish mob, unhappy with my frequent departures to distant places….most disconcerted.
"What !!! you going again!!!" .. all looking daggers at me.. all tied tight to their wives, ”families” unable to move.
Quite apparent, the Turkish people, the cabs and I were not really in harmony. My trips really getting to them. But what was their problem?? They, getting paid rather well. Every Friday after noon… every one… I put $600 cash in Salih's overalls pocket.. he never counted it .. no need to .. I had never been short.. simply patted the pocket…smiled.. he never complained.. about that…!
If someone were giving me that kind of money ..especially as it were tax free, would hardly question their life style.. .. If it were me .. would keep my mouth shut tight.
No, Salih, motivated entirely by greed and jealousy, as so many people on this Planet, he could not do that, keep his mouth shut.. few people can…especially as the previous summer, back in Cyprus with his old woman.. on the beach.. the story goes.. bought himself a camera.
(If I had a camera, he wanted one.. he had leant a few tricks from Peter..)
Now…on the beach.. the story goes, saw this girl, topless, saw his opportunity… instead of dutifully snapping his wife, the grandchildren, the languid surf and the seagulls, he turned the camera intending to photograph the young lady.. her firm breasts, her youth, her vitality.. her everything he ever wanted when lying at night, with the woman of his youth now fat, faintly smelling , long devoid of any desire ..longed to recapture his longing, his desire, on film.. he, so suddenly full of bravado !
His wife .. very close to him, watching, as ever , as always, unfortunately, read this diabolical thought on his face and with her fat fist .. which was the same size as any man's.. simply did not hit him …she hit the camera which smashed into his head, giving him the most wonderful pair of black eyes I had seen in a very long time.
End of his photographic days..
Naturally….
My fault…!!
No Way Back with Susan
As I may or may not have said ..It had become apparent between Susan and myself there was a void.. deeper almost each day.. we falling apart as so many other "couples" for so many different reasons.
Realized this when I did find time to lift my head from work, look about to what was happening in my life. Apparent, I no more than intrusion to her coffee mornings .. her friends .. her life… Did manage to find time to nut all this out, many men do not ..prefer not to.. or the realization coming much too late.
Usually spent couple of week nights in Bishops Stortford, invariable arrived every Friday night.. settled down. Took them both out Saturday to the market or whatever , did the gardening Sunday.. all the usual things every one does.. It was… it was.. boring. Tell me someone who is not bored …! Finding those willing to admit it is something else. The attitude adopted by so many people is that the child is the consideration and the compensation.. all else swept aside.. maybe..
Monday morning up before the child went to school I had never been allowed to enter the school for any of the usual parent functions, whatever.. ..Susan put the block on this for her own calculated reasons, never really remonstrated.. did not know why then…see quite clearly her ball game now. Allowed to drop them both off if I had the cab, otherwise, it was on the bike, start it up, let the boy sit on it, which he was permitted , no more, his mother… then the perfunctory wave, throttle open and roar away down the M. 11… as if there were no tomorrow. A deep sigh of relief.. enough to mist the visor up…
Xmas. . fast approaching.. always a time of mild panic on my part ..always hated it ever since Australia roast turkey on the beach 32 degrees in the shade… wondering how I would survive this one… 1990.a.d.
Bernie had mentioned going with the gang to Thailand for Xmas.. said it would "Do me good". whatever .. he was very discerning ….. I not too sure about Susan and Jack..
Last new year had taken them to a very smart turnout over a three day period.. A great deal of money for three nights, however, cost was of no consideration to Susan, no attempt to join in any "festivities" .
Everyone getting ready for the New year eve bash .. she sitting there like damp rag.. The Kid started playing up ,, running about banging doors generally getting in everyone's way. I gave him a whack which was his cue to run to Mummy.. Mummy to go bananas at Peter .. it was "On" regardless of everyone .a complete tantrum, as if no one else existed.. then that was Susan
There were a few people I knew, they watched this small drama with some interest, asking what was wrong with the pair of them?? I shrugged.. I had simply tried to check the child.. Not according to Susan, the little sod could do no wrong. Often wondered why It took me so long to realize I had served my purpose the moment she had conceived!! Then men are rather stupid .. most of the time…
The child fully aware of how to wynd the situation up, knew precisely the situation between his mother and myself …balanced on a knife edge.. If , according to him, I stepped out of line, he ran straight to her….therefore the child was without control…unlike in my day, it would be at least a clout behind the ear, or a good belting for stepping so close.
The same situation applies to so many "homes'
No.. not very sure about the fast approaching Xmas.. not at all sure how to play it.. but 'Fate " if you like, stepped in and decided for me.
Mobile phones then, were not a must in society, few people had them, mostly for business, they had not caught on as a means for mindless inanities… they were not prolific, not reaching into the pockets of beggars in the street.
Bernie never, ever, rings anyone other than for a important event.. may ring SOS to lay on a party.. , I had given him the nod I would go to Thailand.. only that .. a nod, no more . no conversation on the matter . ………….Suppose a nod is so good as a wink…
Probably a Monday morning, just getting ready to go to town, a bit of breakfast .. not too much asked of Susan.. she could go to a piece of toast ………that's your lot.. Sitting in the living room, she next to me, none committal. .silent .. no doubt waiting for me to fuck off ..
Then the phone rang..
As said, Bernie had a very loud voice, like a fog horn ….Typical “East end Dockers". He also stammered very badly….a very rich mixture. Opened the phone and his voice came booming out.
"Is that you P.P.P.. Peter!!??
I . so surprised …what did he want??..
" Well.. He said I G.G…..Got the T.T ..Tickets.
The only word I could think of was "Fuck!!"
Susan looked …
Shut the phone off quick, hoping.. a vain hope
Momentarily thought of trying to bluff myself out of it .. but she twigged immediately,.,, What else does she have to think about, other than what move Peter will make and can she twist it ,turn it, to her advantage!
This was her Cue and she stepped straight in. Taking a long draw of the black roll up she always had dangling between her thin lips.
"He Has bought tickets for Thailand has'ent he!! "
She started, low key……..
What could I say ?? couldn't say very much..
Said "Yes " very quietly
"So your going to Thailand for Xmas.."
" Yes."
" .'What about me .!!??". as if she cared
"What about last year?? You cost me a cock eyed fortune.. for what ??
Fate had really stepped in.. as fate can..
Tried to be fair ( ..always try….. usually get a kick in the bollocks for doing so …….. this occasion should be no different ) said..
"Will give you whatever money you want, go where you want.. what happened last year will not let it happen this. The situation being I am not able to do anything with the child without your permission. Not allowed to say anything at all to him. He knows this and uses it as a weapon, where does it put me ?? I am not your ex husband… a yes man.. until even he could take no more . "
She never answered .. was there one?? ..Fully aware what she was doing.
May have embezzled the state for many years on the dubious substance of her mental condition, but hardly fooled Peter. Most people try to.. Maybe I look stupid… in her case she had used me up.. for eight years
Her simply "dropping out " when the going became tough ..a escape used by many people.
All suddenly rather Immaterial.. Hardly remember how time went until take off.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Yes, I did go back to Pattaya back to Thailand, knowing there really was no way back with Susan.. none…
Realized this when I did find time to lift my head from work, look about to what was happening in my life. Apparent, I no more than intrusion to her coffee mornings .. her friends .. her life… Did manage to find time to nut all this out, many men do not ..prefer not to.. or the realization coming much too late.
Usually spent couple of week nights in Bishops Stortford, invariable arrived every Friday night.. settled down. Took them both out Saturday to the market or whatever , did the gardening Sunday.. all the usual things every one does.. It was… it was.. boring. Tell me someone who is not bored …! Finding those willing to admit it is something else. The attitude adopted by so many people is that the child is the consideration and the compensation.. all else swept aside.. maybe..
Monday morning up before the child went to school I had never been allowed to enter the school for any of the usual parent functions, whatever.. ..Susan put the block on this for her own calculated reasons, never really remonstrated.. did not know why then…see quite clearly her ball game now. Allowed to drop them both off if I had the cab, otherwise, it was on the bike, start it up, let the boy sit on it, which he was permitted , no more, his mother… then the perfunctory wave, throttle open and roar away down the M. 11… as if there were no tomorrow. A deep sigh of relief.. enough to mist the visor up…
Xmas. . fast approaching.. always a time of mild panic on my part ..always hated it ever since Australia roast turkey on the beach 32 degrees in the shade… wondering how I would survive this one… 1990.a.d.
Bernie had mentioned going with the gang to Thailand for Xmas.. said it would "Do me good". whatever .. he was very discerning ….. I not too sure about Susan and Jack..
Last new year had taken them to a very smart turnout over a three day period.. A great deal of money for three nights, however, cost was of no consideration to Susan, no attempt to join in any "festivities" .
Everyone getting ready for the New year eve bash .. she sitting there like damp rag.. The Kid started playing up ,, running about banging doors generally getting in everyone's way. I gave him a whack which was his cue to run to Mummy.. Mummy to go bananas at Peter .. it was "On" regardless of everyone .a complete tantrum, as if no one else existed.. then that was Susan
There were a few people I knew, they watched this small drama with some interest, asking what was wrong with the pair of them?? I shrugged.. I had simply tried to check the child.. Not according to Susan, the little sod could do no wrong. Often wondered why It took me so long to realize I had served my purpose the moment she had conceived!! Then men are rather stupid .. most of the time…
The child fully aware of how to wynd the situation up, knew precisely the situation between his mother and myself …balanced on a knife edge.. If , according to him, I stepped out of line, he ran straight to her….therefore the child was without control…unlike in my day, it would be at least a clout behind the ear, or a good belting for stepping so close.
The same situation applies to so many "homes'
No.. not very sure about the fast approaching Xmas.. not at all sure how to play it.. but 'Fate " if you like, stepped in and decided for me.
Mobile phones then, were not a must in society, few people had them, mostly for business, they had not caught on as a means for mindless inanities… they were not prolific, not reaching into the pockets of beggars in the street.
Bernie never, ever, rings anyone other than for a important event.. may ring SOS to lay on a party.. , I had given him the nod I would go to Thailand.. only that .. a nod, no more . no conversation on the matter . ………….Suppose a nod is so good as a wink…
Probably a Monday morning, just getting ready to go to town, a bit of breakfast .. not too much asked of Susan.. she could go to a piece of toast ………that's your lot.. Sitting in the living room, she next to me, none committal. .silent .. no doubt waiting for me to fuck off ..
Then the phone rang..
As said, Bernie had a very loud voice, like a fog horn ….Typical “East end Dockers". He also stammered very badly….a very rich mixture. Opened the phone and his voice came booming out.
"Is that you P.P.P.. Peter!!??
I . so surprised …what did he want??..
" Well.. He said I G.G…..Got the T.T ..Tickets.
The only word I could think of was "Fuck!!"
Susan looked …
Shut the phone off quick, hoping.. a vain hope
Momentarily thought of trying to bluff myself out of it .. but she twigged immediately,.,, What else does she have to think about, other than what move Peter will make and can she twist it ,turn it, to her advantage!
This was her Cue and she stepped straight in. Taking a long draw of the black roll up she always had dangling between her thin lips.
"He Has bought tickets for Thailand has'ent he!! "
She started, low key……..
What could I say ?? couldn't say very much..
Said "Yes " very quietly
"So your going to Thailand for Xmas.."
" Yes."
" .'What about me .!!??". as if she cared
"What about last year?? You cost me a cock eyed fortune.. for what ??
Fate had really stepped in.. as fate can..
Tried to be fair ( ..always try….. usually get a kick in the bollocks for doing so …….. this occasion should be no different ) said..
"Will give you whatever money you want, go where you want.. what happened last year will not let it happen this. The situation being I am not able to do anything with the child without your permission. Not allowed to say anything at all to him. He knows this and uses it as a weapon, where does it put me ?? I am not your ex husband… a yes man.. until even he could take no more . "
She never answered .. was there one?? ..Fully aware what she was doing.
May have embezzled the state for many years on the dubious substance of her mental condition, but hardly fooled Peter. Most people try to.. Maybe I look stupid… in her case she had used me up.. for eight years
Her simply "dropping out " when the going became tough ..a escape used by many people.
All suddenly rather Immaterial.. Hardly remember how time went until take off.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Yes, I did go back to Pattaya back to Thailand, knowing there really was no way back with Susan.. none…
Monday 7th February. 2.p.m.
A most glorious spring day. Thought of England.. how it would be now.. No doubt depressing , no doubt damp .
Anyway determined not to be detracted, really have to push on., irrespective of what is happening here and there is plenty. Dana has just left looking radiant… been with me almost three weeks ..no longer having to work seventy two hours a week, 6 nights, with four boys in the sausage factory loading onto a lorry 24,000 kilos of meat .. her wages something less than 2.000.000 lei a month less than $20 a week, I pay her that for doing very little ..very little indeed…….. a couple of hours a day and perks.
Sunday she was here all day because she wanted to be ..she cooked dinner .. had a small party, five of us who where here… she thought it rather better than the sausage factory run by a Greek who has no qualms and has every interest in exploitation.. ..knows the ropes in that respect.
The Greeks, as so many affluent nationalities, come here for two reasons only, Sex and exploitation.. but the last has to be modified…A certain Cypriot gentleman I know of, came here with little and has built up literally a thriving empire in the clothing business.. but he has taken good care of the myriad army who labour ever on for him.. this flotsam from the lost World of Ceausescu and the indifference of so called “Western Civilization” …
There was also another young woman here ..apparently, without any work, any visible means of support.. whom really I cannot continue about now, so much as I would prefer to.. very entertaining …….for Peter.
"Feel" is the word of the moment …feel I have to get on with it otherwise I shall never catch myself up .. before death catches up with Peter.. Death, hardly something to stand on ceremony, hardly something that can be asked, in all politeness to wait until one puts the finishing touches to this rather obscure , meaningless, perhaps sad, existence.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Anyway determined not to be detracted, really have to push on., irrespective of what is happening here and there is plenty. Dana has just left looking radiant… been with me almost three weeks ..no longer having to work seventy two hours a week, 6 nights, with four boys in the sausage factory loading onto a lorry 24,000 kilos of meat .. her wages something less than 2.000.000 lei a month less than $20 a week, I pay her that for doing very little ..very little indeed…….. a couple of hours a day and perks.
Sunday she was here all day because she wanted to be ..she cooked dinner .. had a small party, five of us who where here… she thought it rather better than the sausage factory run by a Greek who has no qualms and has every interest in exploitation.. ..knows the ropes in that respect.
The Greeks, as so many affluent nationalities, come here for two reasons only, Sex and exploitation.. but the last has to be modified…A certain Cypriot gentleman I know of, came here with little and has built up literally a thriving empire in the clothing business.. but he has taken good care of the myriad army who labour ever on for him.. this flotsam from the lost World of Ceausescu and the indifference of so called “Western Civilization” …
There was also another young woman here ..apparently, without any work, any visible means of support.. whom really I cannot continue about now, so much as I would prefer to.. very entertaining …….for Peter.
"Feel" is the word of the moment …feel I have to get on with it otherwise I shall never catch myself up .. before death catches up with Peter.. Death, hardly something to stand on ceremony, hardly something that can be asked, in all politeness to wait until one puts the finishing touches to this rather obscure , meaningless, perhaps sad, existence.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Justice is the will of the stronger"
As the man said "I digress.." hardly know what I digress from, not much happening.. simply plod on.. on my "Weary way".. Go back, pick up the main thread of this story.. think I was still putting the final developments of Susan down. What happened after Susan ? does it really matter what happened after Susan ..?? hardly to any one other than myself and that interest is very thin. Only write for my own satisfaction, hardly for anyone else's. Not in that boat, thank God. Either like it or lump it . or "Please yourself…" as the delicious young ladies of Pattaya say, so softly, so gently, after stating their price of the main event.. "Love for money".." Few Farangs in Thailand who do not know that sharp phrase, its’ implication
Said to Cynthia the other night " You know, would make a good film. .this book… Check the Net for some film agents. .producers, have a look round.. never know your luck…” Okay “..she drifted off to the box, came back a couple of hours later .. "Guess what ??" "what??"
"There are 60,000,000 pages of film makers and associated items" .
Could not really comprehend this.. Repeated her statement to myself..60.000.000 pages ..how many items on each page???! What chance does anyone have ??? So much flotsam floating about in space.
My father brought home a crystal set.. we all had to be incredibly quiet and take it in turns to listen to the few discernible crackling words emitted… I,… five years old.
Obviously I am well past my "sell by" date
The idea of a book is out, for the one simple reason that people no longer have the ability to read.. not more than five words.. Any advertising agency will confirm this.. . There is too much happening up front.. before the eyes .the “Unreal Reality “… the “Square box”….mostly played down to the level of six year olds. Very little effort required … no thought whatsoever…. Why read??
Every Government on this Planet is strongly aware of the fact that “if” people are educated and can read.. can think …. they may possibly get all manner of unwelcome ideas.
The words. Democracy , individuality, justice, "Education.." Tricks of the trade, simply words.. in so far as any government is concerned..
They prefer/insist/demand "Political correctness " insidiously injected via the media.. " CNN" .." Euro News " ..twenty four hours every day.
The bottom line of the most powerful Governments being
"Justice is the will of the stronger'
Most especially, this applies to the United States of America
Only have to look at America and "NATO" Bombing defenseless Yugoslavia, for no other reason than a diversion, from amongst other things, a get out for Clinton over the Lewinsky affair.
The Imposed "Sanctions" by the American Corporation on Iraq .. Never mind the "Kurds " and "weapons of destruction…" What about the price of oil !?? Iraq sitting on more than anyone else on this Planet.
Politics is a dirty business.
……….Like to make gifts of copies ..can be used double edged ….take a poke, or, as with Aura .. Book Four.. Wound her and the German up very tight, very tight indeed .
Aura…Book ten will be better………..
Revenge is sweet …. A certain satisfaction…
Said to Cynthia the other night " You know, would make a good film. .this book… Check the Net for some film agents. .producers, have a look round.. never know your luck…” Okay “..she drifted off to the box, came back a couple of hours later .. "Guess what ??" "what??"
"There are 60,000,000 pages of film makers and associated items" .
Could not really comprehend this.. Repeated her statement to myself..60.000.000 pages ..how many items on each page???! What chance does anyone have ??? So much flotsam floating about in space.
My father brought home a crystal set.. we all had to be incredibly quiet and take it in turns to listen to the few discernible crackling words emitted… I,… five years old.
Obviously I am well past my "sell by" date
The idea of a book is out, for the one simple reason that people no longer have the ability to read.. not more than five words.. Any advertising agency will confirm this.. . There is too much happening up front.. before the eyes .the “Unreal Reality “… the “Square box”….mostly played down to the level of six year olds. Very little effort required … no thought whatsoever…. Why read??
Every Government on this Planet is strongly aware of the fact that “if” people are educated and can read.. can think …. they may possibly get all manner of unwelcome ideas.
The words. Democracy , individuality, justice, "Education.." Tricks of the trade, simply words.. in so far as any government is concerned..
They prefer/insist/demand "Political correctness " insidiously injected via the media.. " CNN" .." Euro News " ..twenty four hours every day.
The bottom line of the most powerful Governments being
"Justice is the will of the stronger'
Most especially, this applies to the United States of America
Only have to look at America and "NATO" Bombing defenseless Yugoslavia, for no other reason than a diversion, from amongst other things, a get out for Clinton over the Lewinsky affair.
The Imposed "Sanctions" by the American Corporation on Iraq .. Never mind the "Kurds " and "weapons of destruction…" What about the price of oil !?? Iraq sitting on more than anyone else on this Planet.
Politics is a dirty business.
……….Like to make gifts of copies ..can be used double edged ….take a poke, or, as with Aura .. Book Four.. Wound her and the German up very tight, very tight indeed .
Aura…Book ten will be better………..
Revenge is sweet …. A certain satisfaction…
Peter's curse
People always find Peter so much as he prefers to be alone especially in public, especially in a restaurant or a shop ..if it happened to be empty it will quickly have people follow me in. Cyn and I yesterday went to a little bar, not a soul in there, hardly sat down three minutes before first a couple of people came in, followed by dribs and drabs, until within five minutes the place was quite bustling. Story of my life.. unable to go anywhere on this Planet alone ..not for very long, soon find people behind me from out of know where. First recollection of this was in Australia. Taken the kids down to the south East …Nurioopta..somewhere.. Bowling merrily along, saw a house about forty miles back, not a soul not a car for about sixty miles, not a cow ..no signs of life other than a few twisted stunted trees couple of birds maybe.. few kangaroos. .a Emu, nothing much else. Very hot ..pulled up in the little shade I was able to find . Climbed out, opened the boot, pulled all the junk out, the kids out, .the old woman out. Looked round.. there was a car parked right behind me. Within six feet ..it had crept up .. where from no one will ever know .. My first real experience of this curse. Completely amazed to see another vehicle. Within twenty minutes there were five vehicles clustered under the few trees
Same as the trip to Melbourne, taking Virginia to catch the boat to the U.K. She, Charlie, the kids and myself.. all jumped in the Customline Somewhere in Victoria saw this Lake in the distance, thought will have swim, wash the dust and dirt off, quite a long way off the road ..found the track.. nothing, nobody, not anything .. all pilled out.. naked .. looked round and there was not just a car … a articulated lorry which had evidently followed us the l mile or so down this barely obvious track. hidden in our dust The driver, sat perving, smoking a roll up. Within half a hour there were twenty or so assorted vehicles. Could not believe any of it. Even Virginia asked out loud what was going on ??..looking directly at Peter.. Maybe she aware something was.
Years later, another life later, over Springfield Park.. would take Jack there before infant school in the mornings. Played the game ..look in the Park … invariably deserted.. then would say. “Right! go in to the field down by the river Lea” sounds weird.. please yourself.. We would walk in, suddenly people would appear, one or two or three, walking their dogs .. did not walk in the distance, thirty, forty, fifty, one hundred yard away. No, they had to almost brush past me, almost touching . Something very wrong with Peter having a attraction for people that he did not want…the curse.
Lambs Conduit street, the same. Friend of mine had a delicatessen which hardly paid.. it did not pay. He looked more than depressed about this one day in particular. Said to him ..tell you what! will come and stand in your shop for ten minutes.. you will get a few punters. Gave me a funny smile ..thinking, what ….?! Anyway had nothing else much to do other than push the black box.. he hardly going anywhere either..- about eleven/twelve in the morning.. depressing time for anyone .
Strolled into the empty shop, he and his assistant stood looking at me ..that look. Then, hardly forget it.. in came a old boy after no more than a few moments, virtually followed us, typically English. Tweeds, suede shoes, trilby hat, long overcoat he was probably demobed in.. that sort of thing . Collar and tie, none too clean.
Overall he smelt of stale cigarettes.. Within twenty five minutes the place, quite full, overflowing into the restaurant below.
My skeptical friend stared, eyes over the top of the till .. I smiled …….It is called "Peter's curse, went back to the "muttering retreats"
Same as the trip to Melbourne, taking Virginia to catch the boat to the U.K. She, Charlie, the kids and myself.. all jumped in the Customline Somewhere in Victoria saw this Lake in the distance, thought will have swim, wash the dust and dirt off, quite a long way off the road ..found the track.. nothing, nobody, not anything .. all pilled out.. naked .. looked round and there was not just a car … a articulated lorry which had evidently followed us the l mile or so down this barely obvious track. hidden in our dust The driver, sat perving, smoking a roll up. Within half a hour there were twenty or so assorted vehicles. Could not believe any of it. Even Virginia asked out loud what was going on ??..looking directly at Peter.. Maybe she aware something was.
Years later, another life later, over Springfield Park.. would take Jack there before infant school in the mornings. Played the game ..look in the Park … invariably deserted.. then would say. “Right! go in to the field down by the river Lea” sounds weird.. please yourself.. We would walk in, suddenly people would appear, one or two or three, walking their dogs .. did not walk in the distance, thirty, forty, fifty, one hundred yard away. No, they had to almost brush past me, almost touching . Something very wrong with Peter having a attraction for people that he did not want…the curse.
Lambs Conduit street, the same. Friend of mine had a delicatessen which hardly paid.. it did not pay. He looked more than depressed about this one day in particular. Said to him ..tell you what! will come and stand in your shop for ten minutes.. you will get a few punters. Gave me a funny smile ..thinking, what ….?! Anyway had nothing else much to do other than push the black box.. he hardly going anywhere either..- about eleven/twelve in the morning.. depressing time for anyone .
Strolled into the empty shop, he and his assistant stood looking at me ..that look. Then, hardly forget it.. in came a old boy after no more than a few moments, virtually followed us, typically English. Tweeds, suede shoes, trilby hat, long overcoat he was probably demobed in.. that sort of thing . Collar and tie, none too clean.
Overall he smelt of stale cigarettes.. Within twenty five minutes the place, quite full, overflowing into the restaurant below.
My skeptical friend stared, eyes over the top of the till .. I smiled …….It is called "Peter's curse, went back to the "muttering retreats"
Dana
Wednesday, 31st January, 2001. 10.a.m.
There has been a lull in the proceedings since that meeting with Aura, I have continued to exist, a comfortable existence, Very few words coming into my head , mostly struggling with the past, perhaps just another sign of living too long.. tend to live in the past quite a lot, then it is nothing new with me.. look backwards, in fact, not only do I look backwards, think backwards. I write backwards, this aspect perfectly apparent to anyone who has held on to these words for so very long, all five books. You need a medal for persistence… sheer bloody mindedness.
As myself , possibly hanging on, waiting to see what will happen to the old man. I, hanging on for that one reason only , refusing to take the last exit, why should I subject myself to more pain..? have had more than my share. What will happen ? what can happen? As reiterated in the past , as reiterated so many times, most of my friends are dead, those who have not been released have suffered some quite bad experiences.
Aura not shown since that last night, described above, I no longer expect to see her, other than by accident, to meet her, other than by accident, as with AndreeA in the Unirii Metro.. that so brief encounter.. our last.. apparently a lifetime ago.
During the last couple of weeks I have , shall we say, attempted to "replace" Aura, with a young lady, twenty one years old, who reminds me somewhat, of a taxi which will not start.
Looking at her, as most of the others, one would think . 'Oh yes! quite attractive!!" , when you lift up the bonnet and look in the brain box, find all manner of things wrong, which need repairing, need time, need patience and invariably, need money.
Usual story.. the "boy friend.." a soldier, in this particular case, with her five years ..went away and married someone else, after one month changed his mind and wanted the original filly back. The inevitable repercussions of that, swore to herself she would not have sex for one year as a punishment , hardly know whom for ..only herself… When Peter dutifully tried, he did not get too far, although there was no resistance, still did not get anywhere.. if that makes sense.. think about it. . Another Susan, another Aura , who more twisted up than she ? so much work straightening her out. Always find the mental cripples, cripples in the brain box, or they find me.
There has been a lull in the proceedings since that meeting with Aura, I have continued to exist, a comfortable existence, Very few words coming into my head , mostly struggling with the past, perhaps just another sign of living too long.. tend to live in the past quite a lot, then it is nothing new with me.. look backwards, in fact, not only do I look backwards, think backwards. I write backwards, this aspect perfectly apparent to anyone who has held on to these words for so very long, all five books. You need a medal for persistence… sheer bloody mindedness.
As myself , possibly hanging on, waiting to see what will happen to the old man. I, hanging on for that one reason only , refusing to take the last exit, why should I subject myself to more pain..? have had more than my share. What will happen ? what can happen? As reiterated in the past , as reiterated so many times, most of my friends are dead, those who have not been released have suffered some quite bad experiences.
Aura not shown since that last night, described above, I no longer expect to see her, other than by accident, to meet her, other than by accident, as with AndreeA in the Unirii Metro.. that so brief encounter.. our last.. apparently a lifetime ago.
During the last couple of weeks I have , shall we say, attempted to "replace" Aura, with a young lady, twenty one years old, who reminds me somewhat, of a taxi which will not start.
Looking at her, as most of the others, one would think . 'Oh yes! quite attractive!!" , when you lift up the bonnet and look in the brain box, find all manner of things wrong, which need repairing, need time, need patience and invariably, need money.
Usual story.. the "boy friend.." a soldier, in this particular case, with her five years ..went away and married someone else, after one month changed his mind and wanted the original filly back. The inevitable repercussions of that, swore to herself she would not have sex for one year as a punishment , hardly know whom for ..only herself… When Peter dutifully tried, he did not get too far, although there was no resistance, still did not get anywhere.. if that makes sense.. think about it. . Another Susan, another Aura , who more twisted up than she ? so much work straightening her out. Always find the mental cripples, cripples in the brain box, or they find me.
Dark Thoughts
But I am really buzzing over the treacherous bitch.. hardly see myself recovering for a very long time.. Conceivably, I never shall.
This dark thought has occurred to me, the slow realization of how close I had become to her, how deeply entwined, how much of my life, myself, she had abducted, absorbed. My loss of her in the night, in the darkness, in the silence, holding her so very tightly, only now this amputation becoming painfully apparent. A void appearing at my feet, a heavy palpitation in my chest.
The initial shock, taken me to my bed.. invariably my answer, Cynthia hovering about me , I having to finally admit that she is the heroin of the twentieth century and this protracted diatribe, a difficult admission after struggling for so long against reason, hardly reason when it comes to two people entwined.
After the Australian fiasco went to bed for two years, rather to the dismay of my mother who suddenly found herself confronted by a situation she did not want and a man she had not seen in a very long time and perhaps, had tried to forget.
Silent after my outburst.. my temper, after getting the knife out and throwing it on the floor in front of Aura, she, too far gone to completely appreciate this point .
Suddenly gathered herself together, looking about as if surprised to find herself once more in the so familiar apartment, the so familiar surroundings, the so familiar room.. as if waking, a long dream, saying..
"Have to go now, have a cab waiting downstairs." ….
Surprised at her affluence, then , quite obviously, she is full of surprises , some not quite so pleasant as others.
Wound my way down the spiral staircase with her .. gave her some money. .never watched as she walked away from the house, into the night.
Cynthia had never said one word, not one muscle of her body had moved, not so much as the flicker of a eyelid.
Without doubt, she thought a great deal.
This dark thought has occurred to me, the slow realization of how close I had become to her, how deeply entwined, how much of my life, myself, she had abducted, absorbed. My loss of her in the night, in the darkness, in the silence, holding her so very tightly, only now this amputation becoming painfully apparent. A void appearing at my feet, a heavy palpitation in my chest.
The initial shock, taken me to my bed.. invariably my answer, Cynthia hovering about me , I having to finally admit that she is the heroin of the twentieth century and this protracted diatribe, a difficult admission after struggling for so long against reason, hardly reason when it comes to two people entwined.
After the Australian fiasco went to bed for two years, rather to the dismay of my mother who suddenly found herself confronted by a situation she did not want and a man she had not seen in a very long time and perhaps, had tried to forget.
Silent after my outburst.. my temper, after getting the knife out and throwing it on the floor in front of Aura, she, too far gone to completely appreciate this point .
Suddenly gathered herself together, looking about as if surprised to find herself once more in the so familiar apartment, the so familiar surroundings, the so familiar room.. as if waking, a long dream, saying..
"Have to go now, have a cab waiting downstairs." ….
Surprised at her affluence, then , quite obviously, she is full of surprises , some not quite so pleasant as others.
Wound my way down the spiral staircase with her .. gave her some money. .never watched as she walked away from the house, into the night.
Cynthia had never said one word, not one muscle of her body had moved, not so much as the flicker of a eyelid.
Without doubt, she thought a great deal.
The Predator
Aura , as so very many other young ladies… Willing to stand up….. or lie down…anything.. for one of those………… evidently
Casablanca/Pattaya/Bucuresti.. nothing changes.
A Sad reflection on Society
He also promised Aura "Love and Marriage" She, heavily into promises.. Omitted, as so many other men do, to fill her in on the facts ..having a wife and three children, the same age as Aura. That he was a alcoholic, eight pints every day, minimum .. Aura defended him, saying she "did not mind" That he also had a "Boyfriend" Aura considerably shaken at this. I knew people who knew him, even rang them for Aura to hear the truth for herself.. she still would not believe it ..what is my problem ? She discovered it all, ultimately…
Waited, what appeared to be a very long silence.. then throwing the whole pent up package at her.. pointing out how she had attacked even her two flat mates for giving the German the low down.. Maybe they tired of covering for her ..becoming apparent, everyone, including the people immediately surrounding her, were tired of Aura and her tricks ..her lies, her fantasies, Tricky Aura, a very close second to the other tricky bitch, Raluca.
Nothing against the German ..he, a nothing.
Nothing more than he appears to be.. A predator.. Nothing against anyone on this Planet other than those who have attempted to turn me over. Aura now falls into this category. No one has ever succeeded in fucking Peter.. not altogether. I may look stupid.. Do think a lot…. Aura tried really hard to screw me, even the last night before my departure for U.K. she had me waltzing round the stores… said all that …
Casablanca/Pattaya/Bucuresti.. nothing changes.
A Sad reflection on Society
He also promised Aura "Love and Marriage" She, heavily into promises.. Omitted, as so many other men do, to fill her in on the facts ..having a wife and three children, the same age as Aura. That he was a alcoholic, eight pints every day, minimum .. Aura defended him, saying she "did not mind" That he also had a "Boyfriend" Aura considerably shaken at this. I knew people who knew him, even rang them for Aura to hear the truth for herself.. she still would not believe it ..what is my problem ? She discovered it all, ultimately…
Waited, what appeared to be a very long silence.. then throwing the whole pent up package at her.. pointing out how she had attacked even her two flat mates for giving the German the low down.. Maybe they tired of covering for her ..becoming apparent, everyone, including the people immediately surrounding her, were tired of Aura and her tricks ..her lies, her fantasies, Tricky Aura, a very close second to the other tricky bitch, Raluca.
Nothing against the German ..he, a nothing.
Nothing more than he appears to be.. A predator.. Nothing against anyone on this Planet other than those who have attempted to turn me over. Aura now falls into this category. No one has ever succeeded in fucking Peter.. not altogether. I may look stupid.. Do think a lot…. Aura tried really hard to screw me, even the last night before my departure for U.K. she had me waltzing round the stores… said all that …
Monday 15th January. 10.a.m.
Sit here in Beller.. silent.. A vague percussion from a street drill somewhere. Very cold.. Vague thoughts of Aura.
Drifted last night down the other end of town, her end ..her deserted street.. her house.. A silent Sunday evening.. the soft swish of trolley busses .. silent people disappearing into the silent labyrinths of existence.
Stood solitary opposite her entrance as had done in other places at other times, other female faces.. Nothing ever changes…
Finally rang the intercom.. the other girl answered , the young, small, quiet one, the one deeply interested in her clitoris…frequently examining it with a mirror. A charming young woman. Last saw her , my last evening with Aura ..she had been stitched up by her "employer" refused to give her wages on some pretext, leaving the girl on the verge of starvation. She in bed that evening.. Gave Aura $40 to give her, which brought a faint smile to her existence..
Whatever, Cyn and I ..Lord and Lady Dunnabunk, sitting here in the warm sanity.. gently laid back, gently sipping our drinks.. impervious of the World outside, beneath, around us…
Looked at Aura through the glass, knew she was agitated.. invariably is whenever she arrived at Beller, always left smiling.
This time round, rather imagined it would be different..
Asked her through the glass to calm down .
Let her in .. she almost unrecognizable, noticeably aged.. the attractive, handsome, young woman I had created, now like a taxi which had been left lying about in a yard, neglected.
With confidence, could say I was not responsible for this aging apparition, sitting crouched on the sofa.. the one we had spent so many hot,, erotic nights together on. Did it to herself, aided and abetted by some other man, who hardly had the interest in her I had so consistently shown…for what… ultimately? A sharp, cowardly, stab in the back. But this is life, I, of all people on this Planet, not in any position to remonstrate. Deep down , all along, aware of the inevitable coming, in what form, I did not know .. had no wish to know… having hidden myself within her.
But her sudden, open contempt ! a strong move, equal to any woman . A very big surprise for Peter …..indeed.
Hardly had any grounds for satisfaction with her situation now, to see fifteen months of my work, my love, gone up so very quickly… in smoke. Had not the slightest intention of bringing her back to life, as Cynthia and I had done last spring when she came here on her knees with tears, anguish, hands clasped in supplication.
Cynthia, silent, still.. a sphinx.. ..A tiger snake poised, watching a rabbit .
Stood by the stove, warming my backside, perhaps hoping Aura would say something interesting.. knew she would not. Simply, softly, said she had been in hospital for ten days, that she was to see a psychiatrist…..
Another bloody Susan..
Said very loudly, she did not need a psychiatrist ..she needed to go back to Church on her knees and ask God or whomever there may be in this Universe to forgive her, her treachery, her arrogance and contempt for other human beings.
She muttered on, almost incoherently… How the German had "Pushed Her' in his frustration, his discovery of her double life.. but he had nothing to be indignant about, only coming to Romania to see what women he could pick up on the cheap, as so many other men do, especially those who work for airlines. He conveniently working for Lufthansa, came here every few weeks with his boyfriend, both only paying 10% of the fare, he also paid nothing for the incessant bombardment of telephone calls he made to Aura.. controlling her every movement, night and day, on her mobile. Lufthansa picked up that tab… knowingly or otherwise. Hardly know why she stood all that aggravation.. stood the three card trick apparently .. for a promise.. of..
A Passport to the West.
Did not bother to answer her soft voice.. walked away into the night… back to Cynthia ..who, as always , as ever, was waiting
After my Sunday night stroll, not really surprised at Aura appearing at the door the following evening…some people call it telepathy, or was it perhaps, the repercussions of the photograph I sent her of a certain young, naked lady, holding Aura's favorite toy.. was it that ?…. maybe.
Drifted last night down the other end of town, her end ..her deserted street.. her house.. A silent Sunday evening.. the soft swish of trolley busses .. silent people disappearing into the silent labyrinths of existence.
Stood solitary opposite her entrance as had done in other places at other times, other female faces.. Nothing ever changes…
Finally rang the intercom.. the other girl answered , the young, small, quiet one, the one deeply interested in her clitoris…frequently examining it with a mirror. A charming young woman. Last saw her , my last evening with Aura ..she had been stitched up by her "employer" refused to give her wages on some pretext, leaving the girl on the verge of starvation. She in bed that evening.. Gave Aura $40 to give her, which brought a faint smile to her existence..
Whatever, Cyn and I ..Lord and Lady Dunnabunk, sitting here in the warm sanity.. gently laid back, gently sipping our drinks.. impervious of the World outside, beneath, around us…
Looked at Aura through the glass, knew she was agitated.. invariably is whenever she arrived at Beller, always left smiling.
This time round, rather imagined it would be different..
Asked her through the glass to calm down .
Let her in .. she almost unrecognizable, noticeably aged.. the attractive, handsome, young woman I had created, now like a taxi which had been left lying about in a yard, neglected.
With confidence, could say I was not responsible for this aging apparition, sitting crouched on the sofa.. the one we had spent so many hot,, erotic nights together on. Did it to herself, aided and abetted by some other man, who hardly had the interest in her I had so consistently shown…for what… ultimately? A sharp, cowardly, stab in the back. But this is life, I, of all people on this Planet, not in any position to remonstrate. Deep down , all along, aware of the inevitable coming, in what form, I did not know .. had no wish to know… having hidden myself within her.
But her sudden, open contempt ! a strong move, equal to any woman . A very big surprise for Peter …..indeed.
Hardly had any grounds for satisfaction with her situation now, to see fifteen months of my work, my love, gone up so very quickly… in smoke. Had not the slightest intention of bringing her back to life, as Cynthia and I had done last spring when she came here on her knees with tears, anguish, hands clasped in supplication.
Cynthia, silent, still.. a sphinx.. ..A tiger snake poised, watching a rabbit .
Stood by the stove, warming my backside, perhaps hoping Aura would say something interesting.. knew she would not. Simply, softly, said she had been in hospital for ten days, that she was to see a psychiatrist…..
Another bloody Susan..
Said very loudly, she did not need a psychiatrist ..she needed to go back to Church on her knees and ask God or whomever there may be in this Universe to forgive her, her treachery, her arrogance and contempt for other human beings.
She muttered on, almost incoherently… How the German had "Pushed Her' in his frustration, his discovery of her double life.. but he had nothing to be indignant about, only coming to Romania to see what women he could pick up on the cheap, as so many other men do, especially those who work for airlines. He conveniently working for Lufthansa, came here every few weeks with his boyfriend, both only paying 10% of the fare, he also paid nothing for the incessant bombardment of telephone calls he made to Aura.. controlling her every movement, night and day, on her mobile. Lufthansa picked up that tab… knowingly or otherwise. Hardly know why she stood all that aggravation.. stood the three card trick apparently .. for a promise.. of..
A Passport to the West.
Did not bother to answer her soft voice.. walked away into the night… back to Cynthia ..who, as always , as ever, was waiting
After my Sunday night stroll, not really surprised at Aura appearing at the door the following evening…some people call it telepathy, or was it perhaps, the repercussions of the photograph I sent her of a certain young, naked lady, holding Aura's favorite toy.. was it that ?…. maybe.
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