Permaflow 21, On Becoming a Person

 

Permaflow 21, On Becoming a Person

 

 

Maybe the Audi played a crucial role in the second most important event in my life – I hesitate here, because though it looks like a reason to somehow boast about it, even more than thirty years after the fact, was it the most important, one has to wonder, but one of the points of trying to put this in writing is to try and figure out what happened, since the brain uses a different part when writing, maybe some answers will spring from these pages – when the winner of the local beauty pageant stopped near the car, talked to the dog inside and then months of bliss and misfortune were started, sometime in the fall of 1990…

 

I had been through some trouble and had to see a lawyer, after the very lucrative spring and early summer working for various journalists, taking some tours, and accumulating some money, losing some with the cheating Stefan, who had sold me a wreck for twenty five hundred dollars, after he had told me he just needs a loan and then put me on the spot for not giving the money back and intent on not producing anything for that small fortune, I had to find something to do with the money.

Producing more, not just spending it at the Black Sea Coast, where we had had that attack from the wacko, near the shore, who had smashed the windshield and we thought about an ad, where someone offered a very impressive interest on maybe a couple of thousands of dollars, but when the term of the loan came, he said nothing and it looked like he is not going to respect the terms and hence the lawyer visit

 

The attorney had not given any good news, for the way we signed the contract was the man would give me back the money, but he would be allowed in court to pay in the local currency, and that would be a massive loss, the way the rates of exchange operated then (the official was way lower, perhaps ten times less than the unofficial rate) I would actually lose maybe ninety percent of the whole sum.

Therefore, upon coming up from that office, a few meters from the headquarters of the Police Headquarters, with the very bad outcome presented, I was not in a good mood, and this probably explains why I was not enthusiastic when this young woman talked with my dog, Daryl aka Daryl Van Horn, named from the character played by Jack Nicholson in The Witches of Eastwick, who was sitting in the Audi.

 

Was it the car she was more interested in, or attracted to, it makes one wonder, especially if we use the label of arriviste, member of the Ciocoii Noi group for this Angry Young Bint, who would show later her Will to Power, the wish to climb up the ladder by marrying a very rich fellow, one who had accumulated a fortune by stealing the money from funds, banks, the people, I do not know exactly who the victims are…

 

The fellow would be convicted and he has spent time in gaol, though most likely for the usual short time allowed for these white collar criminals, who had enough to abuse the system in the first, second and one thousandth place, using all the loopholes, the best lawyers, the ways to evade the rules, writing books in prison would get them a shortening of the sentence and they would have ghost writers work for a series of books, for instance…

The dear Beauty Queen would have access to accounts, benefit from the stash the man had, for I would meet her in the early 2000s, in Poiana, where she may have had a villa, or rented one, and it looked like she had an Audi (here’s the irony then) and benefited from wealth in all, just as I was at the time at what looks like the financial peak, with a house in Rosenau, a Grand Cherokee jeep and the most money ever.

 

It was lovely for her to see the jeep and realize that, though not to the extent of her jail bird, I had had some success in financial terms, the spouse may not have been as good looking as the winner of a beauty pageant (however relative that is) but she was (the wife) considerably younger than me (still is thirteen, a bad omen, younger than yours truly) and clearly presentable (she now feels she is a royalty married to a rather hopeless peasant and laughs at my utterings on a regular basis, but we still have about three thousand two hundred chapters to go before we reach this rather bleak aspect of an otherwise quite serene present…remember ataraxia, the state advertised by epicureans and stoics alike)

Missy was with her mother, my public enemy number one, and her son, conceived with the pirate who had enriched himself, to the detriment of the masses (in those days, you could steal form an individual, but the biggest frauds would just take the public funds and used for their benefit, for most assets had still not been privatized, and when they would be, they would be given for a pittance to acolytes of the regime, the next generation of the nomenclature, corrupt former KGB and the like, including, presumably, the spouse of the women that had broken my heart and made my life miserable, when she decided to exit it…

 

But we were talking about the beginning of the idyll, if that is the word for a story with love on one side, perhaps some interest in goodies, the dog, the car on the other side, that ends badly…idyll may come from ideal, a saga that should end well, and since this (spoiler alert) has the result mentioned above, a different word should be used.

To reduce the tension, atone, look from a different angle, perhaps she was entranced for a while, attracted, thought this might work and then we have to come to the ugly things I did, which are still celebrated somehow by the one who used to be my best friend, when he came for a visit, all the way from Argentina, he was recounting the incident in which I slapped her, in the Lido hotel, when it looked like she may be suggesting to the Bulgarian impresario that she is available, I am just her assistant, nothing to worry about, which was a lie that had been perpetuated from the beginning, towards family and others, and I had accepted my role in it and that should count as one of the many mistakes I made