The Third Man

Graham Greene creates an intriguing opening. Harry Lime has been killed before his friend Holly Martins arrives. A British Major wants Holly out of Vienna by the following day but suddenly there are a number of people interested in Holly.
The intrigue is upon us from the very start and I guess that's what makes a good story. Interest needs to be aroused in the first few lines otherwise the writer is lost in the sea of meaningless words.



Here's my short story so far. Are you intrigued enough?

For many this is a chronicle of converted beliefs, bedevilment, lotions ad potions and witchery. For others, myself included and probably you too now, it’s about vanity, insanity and come-uppance. You will decide for yourself; evil forces or Higher Power yielding justice.

My curiosity was aroused the first time the camper van parked up. It struck me as strange, stopping for lunch on our forecourt, on a trading estate, off a roundabout, on a road leading out of Basingstoke. Not even the centre of the town. They were waiting.

I’m not sure if I’ve embellished my memory with my fantasies or whether later speculation fuelled my imagination but the driver had long dreadlocks. The angle they were parked in relation to the position of my desk, and the distance between us, made it impossible to see her full. She was side on, as they talked to each other. What were they saying? She resembled Tia Dalma in the Pirates of the Caribbean: At the Worlds End, the trader of magical charms and pretty damn exciting.  The other one looked like Kim Basinger. If I were making this into a film Kim Basinger would definitely play her part.

And then of all major surprises I was distracted as I noticed weedy Johnny, as the others called him, took off his thick-rimmed glasses and went over to his North Face jacket.  Johnny was so weedy I used to be amused at the way he sort of walked into the jacket and disappeared, as if engulfed by it. A jacket with skinny, little legs dangling from the bottom. You couldn’t even see his head. He just fed the fodder for the lads to take the piss. I did feel sorry for him sometimes but asked for it somehow. I used to have to curb my chuckles. I was the only one he ever spoke to at all. He had to talk to me really to report his movements for the week. They were always the same, “onsite”. He had no sales visits to make, he didn’t nurture any deals with any of the local businesses. I never bothered to listen to his sales technique on the phones; I just assumed it would be pitiful. Mind you he made good sales figures, there was also repeat business. Someone liked him. And it was enough to make it worthwhile to keep him on. I had some crazy, romantic notion that he was selling to some gangster group. Well after all, there were regular buyers and often cash sales. Who buys a BMW for cash after all? He sold a lot of the Sports models too. He just didn’t look the sort if you know what I mean. Then again he didn’t look the sort to be involved with a gang either. He did enough for me to keep him on, that’s all that mattered. His onsite sales were mediocre. He got the odd one, but he’d be so feeble in his approach it was like a sport for the lads to leap in before he could make an approaching utterance to a customer. He’s put his head down quietly and return to his desk and pick up the phone. I thought this was a way of covering his embarrassment. Maybe he phoned his mum to tell her they pipped him to the post again. Who knows?

Anyway this day was different and intriguing. Mr boring, predictable Johnny, who never uttered a word of complaint against all the shenanigans or ever did anything other than arrive on time, eat his lunch at his desk at the same time every day, and left after the others walked out in a cluster of rowdiness. He looked calm enough. I followed him with my eyes. I wondered amused if he’d had enough and this was his way of protesting. He didn’t look up or around him or make a sound. He padded his way out of the door and blow me over with a feather, right over to the campervan. The girls, women, whatever, got out of their seats and headed into to the rear. Weedy Johnny entered via the side door. What the hell? I think he momentarily glanced back towards me but I was so taken aback I put my head down quickly so as not to be noticed I’d seen him.

When I thought he was safely inside, I looked back. With sordid thoughts, that I wanted to feel guilty for but actually thought lucky bastard, I watched for a rocking movement. Maybe it was some kind of sex-mobile. After all they were really sexy chicks. Nothing! It was like a vacuum of information. What were they doing in there? The bloody thing had curtains. I couldn’t even make out any shapes or shadows. He was gone for about 15 or 20 minutes. Then the door opened. I caught his eye and swear there was a bit of a smirk as I quickly averted my focus back to the papers on my desk, as if casually taking a sweeping view of the outside world in business thought

This weedy little bloke, who looked as if he’d got stuck at age 12 physically, gangly 5’ 10” geek, had just pulled it off with two sexy women. Surely not? I mean, he couldn’t even talk to Shy Sue at the Christmas bash when the lads teased her into approaching him. She’s not a beauty by any stretch of the imagination but she’s very nice to everyone. You’d have thought at least he could strike up a bit of a flirt with her. Even she gave up. He just sipped away at a beer, didn’t even watch the dancing and then entered into his jacket world and left.

As he came back into the showroom, I noticed he had a holdall. Did he go in with that? What was in the holdall? What on earth was going? I was in agony with nosiness. I wanted to know what this strange little fella was up to. As he settled back at his desk, I got on with my work and gradually as the weeks went by I returned to normal just as he continued be weedy and geeky. Except there was something different about him, an air or an attitude change I don’t know what it was. Maybe it was my imagination? Maybe that was his first lay? Anyway I let it go.

I did for a while anyway. Until I noticed that weedy Johnny wasn’t quite as weedy. I couldn’t make out whether he was actually physically different or whether he just seemed to be holding himself differently. I think it was the latter. His head wasn’t hanging loose off his shoulders. That was it. He was looking up more, even looking people in the eye. I didn’t like what I saw. A man with hubris. Confidence is one thing, it is attractive even in another man. But this was sort of sickening and quite something else other than confidence. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it.

 

Comments please ... shall I continue?

 

Bliss

XX

 

 

 

 

Moral laws

Submit to the moral laws of honesty, purity, unselfishness and love or you will be broken. Disaster is a surety if you are dishonest, impure, selfish and unloving. You will suffer the consequences.
Through dishonesty I always suffer the consequences of disquiet and fear. When selfish it just feels painful because I am only worried about what is happening to me. The focus is on me and what's lacking or what's wrong. I can counter this with gratitude and drop the selfishness, consider other people. And as for impurity, well this could be related to the deceit of not telling people what I'm doing for the purpose of hiding to ensure I get what I want. What is impurity of it isn't the other things already mentioned here? Manipulation is dishonesty, liking people for who they are or what they can offer is dishonest. Is this impurity? I'm not sure about impurity because all of the others strike me as impurity.
This morning I had another cry. Yesterday my dad phoned me. He is still in hospital. He didn't want to go into any detail. He said he had cellulitis. I looked this up and it can be serious but is it that for my dad? It's just hard to know what the truth is with him. Is he dramatising things because it can't be mediocre with him or is he hiding the seriousness? To keep me away? To protect me? What is it?
I am scared that something might happen I won't have seen him alive for months. I feel so very, very sad at this thought and the thought of all the years in angst with him. Keeping me away. All the years of his angst with me driving me away. It's all so futile in the light of mortality, of pending death. God, what is it all about, really? Please can you guide me God. I want to go an visit him because I care and he matters despite all of our differences. I am trying to respect his wishes. He doesn't like being fussed over in his hospital bed. I can understand that. It's demeaning for him. He does not think about others and why should he. I'm trying to consider him. But bloody hell it hurts to be kept away and I am so so scared. It makes it worse not really knowing the full extent of his situation. And he says T is getting worse. Is she? Or is he dramatising that? What is the truth God. I just have to take it at face value. And wait and see. I wonder if Nina knows. I wonder if I should call her? God what do you want me to do here?
I have a lot of forgiveness for him. I hope that he knows this. I hope that he knows I love him too. If he calls again I will tell him. Why didn't I tell him yesterday? I didn't because it leaves me vulnerable and sad and hurt. I am crying as I write this.
All day yesterday I was wanting something. What I really want is my dad. And that I can't have and I don't think I've had since I was a little girl. Even then it was corrupted. I think he really did love me though. I don't know if he loves me now or if it's a duty thing. I love him and still want him to love me. Gosh! It hurts.
I absolutely link this wanting to be wanted by him with wanting to be wanted by men in general. It would make me feel as if I'm an OK person. And yet it really doesn't. It turns into something so horrible. I wonder if I can ever get beyond that? I would only want to be with someone now who can live by the spiritual and moral laws and honour me within that and for me to be able to honour them. I don't want it any other way. Anything else is too painful and I do not want to be that person.
I think the path is narrowing and narrowing. My feelings around my friends are altering. It's hard staying me amidst them which is hurtful to realise.
Wow! I've just said to an FAer that called that I don't really need feedback. She wanted to give it to me anyway ad I said I know I know E and tight now I'm just feeling and that's OK. I have a lot of understanding.
I am very scared that my dad will die without me having seen him. And already having verbalised that a couple of times it already feels a little easier to say. It is a possibility that just a few moments ago I didn't want to be true. I want it to be changed and different. Things are as they are.
It is tragically sad that there is so much unloving amidst humans. We are here for such a short time together and then we die and all the angst was pointless. Dad I hope you know I love you. I hope you know I'm sorry for so much. I hope you know that I forgive all the confusion and messiness. I hope you know I have at least some understanding. I hope you know that I wish you nothing but a peaceful heart.


Unmanageability -
things I didn't intend doing but ended up doing
things I intended doing and didn't do

Step 12 can be a look at the subtle differences between selfishness and unselfishness, honesty and dishonesty, purity and impurity, control and letting go, jealousy and envy,

Yes all these things that I wonder the meaning and the middle road.

A lot of people in 12 Step recovery talk about events in their childhood that have been difficult. The Jesuits said "show me the child at 7 years old and I'll show you the man"
Is that really what the saying is? It makes sense. I think if we can see the influences on the child at that age then we can start to see what might emerge as they move through into adulthood. The teenage years will probably give even more insight as there could by chance be some other influence at another very sensitive age.
As discussed with G this morning, I do not believe that nature exists without nurture and vice versa. G seems to feel strongly that he is not born with the "disease" of addiction. Whether it is a disease or not is still out with the jury. It is something we humans seem to have in an increasing number of people I would say. It's a little like anything, such as Cancer, heart weaknesses, depression, anything, there could be a predisposition towards all of these things and then something in the environment could be the trigger. This is not certain so far but evidence can suggest that this is likely. Equally there is evidence that questions the theory. There are some conditions that are most certainly genetic, i.e hereditary and as such that meas that anything could be. Maybe this is what the Buddhists were interpreting from long ago that actually we have all lived before our lies and bring with us the legacy of our genetics and family history. perhaps environmental circumstances would strengthen the hold of the genetic lineage. Who really knows? The fact is that here I am with this "illness". The evidence shows that I've got it through the consequences and inability to stop, especially for me with my food.
Baltasar Gracian a Spanish Jesuit in the early 1600's, (Jesuit meaning men of a particular order who took on extreme orders to follow their faith) allegedly made this comment.
There are two ways I can take this. One is to give the child over and hen they can be shaped. Or let me see the child and the ways in which they are living and he future is predictable for them. Is it that predictable though? Other things can happen along they way that could influence the later outcomes and indeed things can happen in this moment of adulthood that can alter the direction again. Fundamentally there is a cert personality that i guess remains fairly consistent. A great area of study that I didn't really appreciate when I did study. it. Fascinating.
Now I need a wee wee ad then a stroll with LouLou I think. I feel sleepy so I do not feel inclined to go visiting C in Winchester or anyone else. I was thinking cinema and was considering contacting M but then it's a journey and petrol and expense. I can't afford it. I wish I could do 20mins of my accreditation document. why can't I get on with it?
I am feeling sleepy. It will be nice to just laze again. I did that yesterday too. I don't think I went to bed so late either. So it's surprising.
I must phone C and say I won't be over and A too. Or maybe I should make the effort for at least a walk. OK lets see what she's up to.

Lot's of ideas jotted down here and probably in random directions. I'd also like to do some more writing. I have this idea of a short story but don't where it's going. So perhaps if I used the OU course I could do some of that this afternoon. That's what I'd really like to do so I'm going to. After all next week my course starts. And really I should be getting my desk read for that. It's a mess in my flat. I just want all the bits gone but then I want them again at some stage in the future. I need a shelving unit in the cupboard to be able to store all the little things in plastic boxes for easy access.
I need a lot of organising.

Bliss
XX