PART 1: The Man Who Had Everything and The Woman With No Art Once upon a time there was a man who had everything. And I mean everything. He had a career (brilliant pianist), a lovely wife (perfect face), a compliant mistress (perfect breasts), a wonderful clutch of promising off-spring (2 girls, one boy); admiring relatives who regarded him with awe and only showed up when it was appropriate; entertaining friends of exactly the right kind and social standing; and a talented stockbroker who had somehow managed not only to salvage his nest-egg from the crash, but to actually swell it to quite embarrassing proportions. In other words he had everything you could conceivably ask the heavens for as aids to the state of perfect happiness. And yet he was not happy. You could not say he was unhappy. He was just discontent; but to a man who had everything and lived in the expectation of a constant escalation of his level of satisfaction, discontentment was as devastating as bitterest sorrow to your average man. It riled him, it ate away at his self-satisfaction, it was a cause for fierce indignation. Why was he not content? Why? Did he not have everything? Was he not envied, desired, admired? What then did he lack? What was the spring from which this insidious discontent welled? He didnt know, but it got so bad that no matter what he did, and all that he had; the biggest chunk of his inner-life was dedicated to his obsession with his discontentment. He came to the conclusion that somewhere at his core there must be a fatal character flaw that impeded his acceptance of happiness. That summer one of his agents offered him a booking in Ireland at a new - as yet obscure- Classical Music Festival where he would be the guest of honour. He would be fêted and adored, he would be a veritable god. He, of course, accepted. His wife wanted to accompany him, and he declined; his mistress begged to go with, and he showed her the same peevish and rather ungenerous turn of mind. He would go alone. Perhaps in a far country - travelling alone - he would find the answer to his conundrum; or at least have a wild old time of it. He fully intended to take advantage of whatever opportunities presented themselves to him. But the whole thing was was disappointing, to say the least. The festival was alright... Amongst the raw young talents and brilliant amateurs his light shone all the brighter. He was duly adored, and showered with attention, but somehow something failed to gel. Some essential piece was missing. Once again perfection was not achieved; contentment was dimly perceived as a possibility, yet somehow missed. The last night of the Festival he refused the invitation to a Gala Diner and chose to take his rental car on a long aimless drive, get himself a taste of the Emerald Isle. The long golden afternoon was beginning to fade when he decided to stop at a drowsy hamlet lost in that endless green and have something to drink. In this way his fate was sealed, of such little odd decisions are great tragedies spawned: The Man Who Had every Thing was about to be born. Manuela Cardiga If you enjoy my writing please look for my new Novel MANscapes- Journey into Light amazon/MANscapes-Manuela-Cardiga-ebook/dp/B00M9E8ZYS
Posted on: Fri, 12 Sep 2014 08:15:16 +0000
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