Ambassador falls, part the first
Graham Greene says a story's beginning is arbitrary, that the story's record needle can be placed anywhere on the record, the writer spinning the story out in quick tight ever opening lissajous spirals that rotate out of the woman's and therefore into our own "seeing". We are superstitious folk and will not allow for the grim reality of God's arbitrary nature. So, like Monday morning soothsayers, we look back, choose where the tale starts and spin forward so that our friends are amused or alarmed.
"Don't worry. She will either sign the housing papers or I'll fire her." This is what he said. This is what Bret Boylan, owner of the Ambassador Apts, a four story hulk of crumbling faux balconies and institution inspired colors and my home.
I am worried because I know Bret and he is a human bedeviled by many fantasies, one of which is that he is a decent man and the other that he is a man of action. A glance at Bret's apt, the building, his very person betray the lie that he is either. What Bret is mostly is a coward in pain. This is about all that makes him human and deeply endearingly to the rest of us cowards in pain. It is all though that Bret aspires to be. He bought the Ambassador more than a decade ago, placed things on cruise or auto pilot to fast fade tenement. The buildings health and his seem horribly bound, a Long Beach House of Usher. And until Bret's bold lie, I was fascinated by the morbid nature of Bret and his Boyland.
But like all of us, Bret's accidental perfection as libertine and sadist, had cracked recently. Bret is aware that he lies and cannot confront his lies so he hired someone else to be a man and act. This is the her that Bret will fire if she does not do what he says. You can hear the Greek chorus laughing, Fate trying to sharpen her dull overused blade while we poor mortals act out a scene that if hadn't happened, I would have cut as ludicrous. The trouble with the truth is that by its nature there are variations to it and it's absurdity does not blunt it's cold knife. That is what makes a lie such a wicked and cruel tool. The lie will not stick around as the truth batters us. The lie whispers to us and blinds us, never permanently, no just long enough so it hear Lear's howl when it dawns on us.
This whopper of Bret's conjoined with other smaller receipts and parlayed with a few of Allison's awkward lies, so that when the truth jumped out, the surprise would be homeless and lose my HOPWA/section 8 housing voucher.
How this lie destroys home and health in the next part.
Readers: I work hard here at Vertigo Falls to keep things on topic, but I am currently homeless and writing posts in McDonald's. It would be absurd not to stop the show briefly and give some apology for lack of Vertigo focus. And I will accept your help. I am approaching 50 and let's just say street life is not easy. Here where home is sidewalk, entrance and alley, there many good men and women my age and older. I am not alone and I am happy in heart. Writerauiler@gmail.com is my email and if you bank at Bank of America you can send gifts with just that information. Forgive me for not making it any easier. I do have some stubborn pride and my blog series on what's happened serves to clarify my thoughts on what happened and to make me feel better. These are the priceless gifts of writing.
"Don't worry. She will either sign the housing papers or I'll fire her." This is what he said. This is what Bret Boylan, owner of the Ambassador Apts, a four story hulk of crumbling faux balconies and institution inspired colors and my home.
I am worried because I know Bret and he is a human bedeviled by many fantasies, one of which is that he is a decent man and the other that he is a man of action. A glance at Bret's apt, the building, his very person betray the lie that he is either. What Bret is mostly is a coward in pain. This is about all that makes him human and deeply endearingly to the rest of us cowards in pain. It is all though that Bret aspires to be. He bought the Ambassador more than a decade ago, placed things on cruise or auto pilot to fast fade tenement. The buildings health and his seem horribly bound, a Long Beach House of Usher. And until Bret's bold lie, I was fascinated by the morbid nature of Bret and his Boyland.
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| View from my Ambassador apt |
But like all of us, Bret's accidental perfection as libertine and sadist, had cracked recently. Bret is aware that he lies and cannot confront his lies so he hired someone else to be a man and act. This is the her that Bret will fire if she does not do what he says. You can hear the Greek chorus laughing, Fate trying to sharpen her dull overused blade while we poor mortals act out a scene that if hadn't happened, I would have cut as ludicrous. The trouble with the truth is that by its nature there are variations to it and it's absurdity does not blunt it's cold knife. That is what makes a lie such a wicked and cruel tool. The lie will not stick around as the truth batters us. The lie whispers to us and blinds us, never permanently, no just long enough so it hear Lear's howl when it dawns on us.
This whopper of Bret's conjoined with other smaller receipts and parlayed with a few of Allison's awkward lies, so that when the truth jumped out, the surprise would be homeless and lose my HOPWA/section 8 housing voucher.
How this lie destroys home and health in the next part.
Readers: I work hard here at Vertigo Falls to keep things on topic, but I am currently homeless and writing posts in McDonald's. It would be absurd not to stop the show briefly and give some apology for lack of Vertigo focus. And I will accept your help. I am approaching 50 and let's just say street life is not easy. Here where home is sidewalk, entrance and alley, there many good men and women my age and older. I am not alone and I am happy in heart. Writerauiler@gmail.com is my email and if you bank at Bank of America you can send gifts with just that information. Forgive me for not making it any easier. I do have some stubborn pride and my blog series on what's happened serves to clarify my thoughts on what happened and to make me feel better. These are the priceless gifts of writing.
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