This Is Paradise (part six)

Friday, July 9, 2021

This Is Paradise (part six)

The memoirist has no memory anymore. It is like he's a shark, and he doesn't sleep or think, eats whatever is in front of him. My manager is his food unless he's distracted by some other type of meal in front of him. At the other table, the two young ladies were a meal that he had to obtain to keep his presence present. It is hard for me to believe he wrote his memoir reflective of his past as a child. Perhaps there is something there in the book that presents who he is now? 

Taix restaurant and bar is a room of the past but projected by my instant memory, or it could be the silly amount of drinks I'm having, but I feel like I'm time traveling as I sit there with the memoirist and my manager in the booth at the bar. I wanted to respond to my sexual desires throughout my life, but my actions undo the fear of the world. The author here seems not a care in the world; as long as he's being fed, he's a happy fellow. My manager, I think, is attracted to such a being, where she sees him as a powerful projection for her sexuality. All I want to do is show my manager that I'm a man and because I desire to assist her in the shop as well, if only to obtain attention. This need is simply the food for my well-being. 

Then, on the other hand, this man of 60 something years old seems to develop the world as if he was in the darkroom, making the negatives into the positive light - yet is fascinating but horrifying at the same time. The memoirist excuses himself from the table and heads toward the jukebox in the bar. He inserts his credit card into the machine and chooses Tristan und Isolde. He comes back to the table but crawls on the ground from the jukebox to the table. He is under the table, and I feel one hand on my ankle, but his attention is evident to my manager. She closes her eyes, and although my manager is drunk as I, she is transported to another world. I'm feeling sad that I'm not in her world, but yet, by having his hand on my leg, I'm on their planet. 

The music gets louder, and the tears are getting more challenging to hold back, and I feel my body is being lifted, and I'm looking down at this table. I only see her sensual face and his legs sticking out of the table. As I sit with the audience at the Cannes film festival 2021, and I wonder if I will ever connect with my passion, or will it be drained away, to some sewer in some part of the ancient world.  

At the end of part six, and therefore the story is over.