The London Mouse Trap
London, Sunday the 27th of May 2012
I walked for hours crossing the city from east to west, not loosing tracks of my destination, my destiny. Words were flowing my story was almost done, and I sat on the bench in front of my objective, I lost all thoughts, dry like a desert well was my mind. Still I had a story to write, it is good to forget and rewrites again, I think! Well that’s what I do know; lots of hatred did not mind the gap and got filtered out.
As I walked those street trying to follow the 55 bus route, reading street name after name convincing myself in vain to remember them. I kept looking up towards the skies; maybe I could find a reference point a repair. But truth to be said my eyes were seeking help, crying out for salvation, they could no longer watch the orgy of stores. All looked the same boring food outlets cannibalizing each other, promising good feed for that unwary hungry. Cafes by the dozen, bars by the hundreds, what makes one special? A disgrace to the mind. At every moment my eyes looked down, in an attempt not to loose path, they got bombarded by that tragedy. The more images I saw a disdain for that city grew inside of me.
What am I doing, roving the streets to play a delusional game in an illusionary world? What is actually happening to me? Haven’t I learned? Didn’t I say enough cities last time? How could have I been coerced into it?
Finishing up on a canal’s bank, writing a story, or is it a sort of diary where you records your thoughts, spilling out your anger on those poor papers. What a miserable tree it should have been, ending up as papers at the end of my pencil.
I still don’t know what am I doing, maybe writing a will!! To will or not to will…
Anyway, here I am basking under a hot sun looking for an inspiration from a blue little barge tied down at the opposite bank. How bizarre and twisted I must be or I can always blame it on the sun, stroking my mind. Yup I think I am getting mind stroke instead of a sun stroke.
What was it that made me crawl to where I sit now? What is it I am hoping to find?
Crossing all that distance toward my destiny while stumbling on circuses after circuses, until I suddenly felt I am in a big one, an untrained rat in the circus of life.
Could not escape always trying to no avail, my eyes are always the fastest, was never able to follow, and how can I follow without any vision?
In this big circus called London, you become a trained rat. In that biggest of deceptions and lies, I find myself holding onto the self and not get sucked up into the realm of things. Will holding, I tried to hold onto my daughter, try and shake some sense into her.
Sadly enough my support my woman got caught up too by that magnet of consumption. She is cowering back into her mischievous but well trained rat role.
Here I am siting on a bench at the banks of a mercury canal, eyeing a little blue boathouse trying to steal images of the past. Here, she is folding her laundry being watched by hordes of rats, in an illusionary place deprived of space.
Why am I doing this, why not let go and be oblivious like these water dotting trees or like that floating duck or even trained like those urban rats.
Why don’t I accept the misery of our lives, am I trying to loose her or her trying to loose me? Why do I not know how to get lost? Maybe it’s the eyes again!
My morning started at a café on Broadway Market Street, siting outside drink a double macchiato, my blood reached the boiling mark, it was poison flowing into the canals of my brain. My mind was so furious at doing or failing to do what I had or didn’t have to do. What a weird thing! Anyway, was siting minding my own self, when an old and dirty woman approached me, obviously a society drop out, a rebellious trained rat that missed the train. She pointed at my smoke pack, so I gave her a cigarette then she barked a strange syllable, and understood she wanted fire.
She puffed and sat down at my table. The well trained passer by avoided crossing in front of her and gave a look of disdain. She was coughing funny and unnerving noises by that time she puffed the last breath of her cigarette, leaned forward on here seat and left. Leaving a small puddle under the chair, she actually pissed herself while sitting. Finished my cup of coffee and left, taking with me an agonizing sorrow
of what I just witnessed. How many times shall I be subjected to sit and watch the suffering of beings!! Why was I here in the first place? Was it a coincidence or a message? Did I see the future unveil itself in front of my eyes?
Sitting on that bench on the canal, digging into the past hoping to avoid that vision of future things to come. All this happening while I am failing in the present.
Called my daughter to join me at a café on Broadway street. While waiting for her I ordered a glass of wine and the second. Midway threw the second that same old woman showed up in a cleaner version though; she started begging for money until the very attentive manager came out and nicely shoed her away. She crossed the street and did the same at the opposite corner cafe with the same results. By that time I was already out of my seat and going strait to her, reached into my pocket and gave her what I missed giving her this morning, her fees. Unknowingly she had earned her money; it was the price I had to pay her for teaching me a lesson.
It turned dark and I moved on south, I was awaited at a certain place. A rat hole of a space, a gathering of soon to be drop outs. Rough and tough customers, could not differentiate women from men, gays from straits. Were they roughened by their inability to reconcile with their training or toughened by their imaginary rebellion?
Anyway, it was a stupid night built on a dumb notion of a party. The place has been prepared for a disgraceful attempt at an orgy. What a failure, what a bunch of looser, trained rats of the dark side, what was I doing here? Funny enough, she found herself at home, another trainee succumbing to her illusionary dreams of happiness.
My presence is a hinder to her desires; did she call for me to save her from drowning again? What have you done for the past 9 years? Why was I there?
Next morning at 8 am I found myself at the same café having another double macchiato. A thirtyish plum woman stopped just in front of me, bent down and start rubbing her ankle as if it was paining her. She spoke to her ankle while massaging it. Words like, stop hurting me, every time you do the same. What a circus, all this drama and theater to pick up a half smoked butt of a cigarette. Do I really have to witness the agonizing suffering of people?? Until when?
I do need to give up, I almost did last night. For three days I was twitching to leave, and in an insane surreal manifestation of event, an old beaten up woman begged of me to stay. What she did not say stuck in my mind, a lesson I would like to forget.
I can’t figure out why people do not see the obvious, they are always looking for answers in hidden corners. Today she told me; I had a dream. I dreamt of Louis (her cat) becoming vicious and unfriendly and hanging around rough and tough street cats.
This is becoming a pattern, how do I hate to be trapped in such a tormented situation. Why do I have to engulf myself in such compromising affairs, why do I have to bet on the long shot and drawn in those slow quick sands? Then, I go ask myself again; what am I doing here? This must be the story I need to tell. How I always manage to come out dented though but I do survive. This a story unlike any;
It has no substance, no meaning and shit for content. This story is like a void, who in his right mind will read it. I do need a catchy title. A mouse trap title sturdy enough to catch those rats.
Rats, I almost forgot about them, this morning a Monday morning they came out from their borrows in hoards on their bicycles, one hoard after the other.
Like usual I happen to be sitting at the café drinking my macchiato, a man parked his car across the street, got out and tried to cross over. Few attempts later he succeeded, passed me, stopped and turned around; it is like Tour de France, he said.
Find the one in the yellow jersey, I said back.
What an anecdote, I was thinking rats and he was referring to athletes. Actually rats are the greatest of athletes, they jump, run, climb, dig…and chew on electrical wires, get all wired up and party.
Louis the cat became Louis the one eyed Lynx, and she was asking why?
I am the one who became the feline, sniffing trouble from afar. Sensing emptiness in the air, what I am still doing here? Am I truly here, with a woman that has far gone?
London, you opened my eyes and closed my heart. Adieux Romance.
Beirut, June the 1st 2012.