Sunday, 28 July 2019
The true horror stories in modern Paris part 117
It's been three weeks since I last updated my blog. I had again temporarily lost mobility of my wrist, the one that got damaged by Mme. Landlord who overworked me by making me clean and paint her apartment without a heater during the cold month of February while she was warming herself in her other heated apartment. It was a blatant abuse of immigrants' labour by the self-acclaimed protector of the weak, but I needed to learn the lesson of life the hard way.
Enough about myself. I promised to an author Mr. Meade to give updates on the characters of my true horror stories in this modern Paris. The restaurant from Hell went all out to deceive potential clients. Each time some honest reviewer wrote a negative comment about their rip-off price for their stingy portion, the chef would bribe a young French with a free meal for a good review. I once saw a girl chatting friendly with the chef inside the courtyard. Shortly 5 stars review appeared on a social media with her photo. Thus tourists and some French who are looking for a new place continued to get sucked in. Nevertheless, the restaurant is never full because the neighbours would not dine there, not after being blasted with a loud music continuously until midnight. This tactics backfired though as the restaurant kept losing their chefs who must have been exhausted by the long hours.
However I find myself without zeal to write about the misfortune of the characters from the restaurant now that I know that they had ignored my written pleas about my physical suffering caused by the restaurant because they knew that I was under the influence of Mme. Landlord. Mr. Pride and the other landlords all knew that Mme. Landlord would lie and exaggerate her suffering and thus I was suspected of fabricating my suffering under the instruction of Mme. Landlord. In hindsight she forbid me to insulate my floor which would have mitigated my nausea and sickness because she needed to use my physical suffering as a big humane excuse to drive out Mr. Pride's restaurant. Later it was revealed that she wanted to recover the value of her apartment which had been devalued by the opening of the restaurant. My readers would have read about the hell that broke out after I disobeyed her. She tried to drum up the residents to impeach me, which failed because they had already gotten to know me.
Never the one to be discouraged, Mme. Landlord turned to the new woman buyer of her apartment and fed her with the lies and scandals about me. Mme. Landlord accompanied the new buyer…I shall call her Mme. May because that is when we first met, with the purpose to abet the young couple Mme. May and her husband to…God knows what she wanted, but she had this odd habit of announcing her move in advance in emails. She had announced to the residents that she was going to correct all the wrong in the building for the sake of Mme. May. So I had prepared all the written documents to counteract her lies and practiced my poor French phrases. However, the God was on my side because Mrs. May had worked in America and thus spoke English fluently. So I quickly explained the situation in English (thank you, Australia, you taught me well) and the obvious relief on her face was uplifting. Mme. Landlord screamed ordering me to speak in French but Mme. May and I, we both ignored her and we bonded. We are going to meet again on a cup of tea soon.
Horror stems from many thing, but in my case it was my naïve bleeding heart. In hindsight I refused to recognize some signs that old Mme. Landlord was a user because it was easier to hope that my patience with her ways would soften her avarice. My damaged wrist is a stark reminder of my weakness which I must combat. Some people may say that suing her for compensation would be the right revenge. Yes, logically. But if a person grows by overcoming the misfortune or troubles, then accepting money from the culprit would leave the person as the same weakling as before. Being a weak fool is not a virtue. In my case I have lost a lot through associating with Mme. Landlord, financially and physically, but only through earning back the loss through my merit I would be able to deem myself to have grown and overcome the hardship.
In the meantime, Oh, the injured pride of Mme. Landlord upon realizing that her plan to humiliate me had failed. I have at least gained the right to stand on the higher ground and look down on her. This feels surprising good enough while I note that facial expression of Mme. Landlord has become both sheepish and vulgar. What a face to show to the Lord when her time has come to return to Him. But of course, she is an atheist so it would not have mattered to her. I see religious people as trouble makers stirring up division among people. God has been used to shield man's ulterior agenda for centuries. Here in Paris I have witnessed the snobbery of one religion, the violence of one other religion, the victim game of one other religion and even the manipulation of one other religion. And yet having no religion risks a weak soul like mine to turn into a self-acclaimed God as in the case of Mme. Landlord. I need a religion to keep a check on my soul and attitude which is what the religion was initially set up for. It is the people who have changed the good religions into self-serving cults. Then only through keeping my religion absolutely private and secret may protect me from corruption.
So at the end of my long true horror stories in the modern Paris, I found myself bruised but in the place I had least expected. I have chosen one faith. This takes care of my soul and as for my career, I have learnt to use my left wrist to lessen the burden on my damaged right wrist. NEC of Japan has launched a laptop whose keyboards offer 'light as feather touch. I will resume my translation work with this new device. And as for my dream to publish a book through a publisher, well this one is gone forever because my wrist will no longer cope with drawing many graphic novel pages at a time. However, I have discovered that a few pages of graphic novel can be uploaded onto YouTube. This will allow me to write at my slow pace and the potential readers will not have to pay money to see my work. It would give me a sense of purpose if my graphic novel earned some clicks even though it is extremely difficult to earn living through clicks.
The last four years, Paris has thrown so many things at me without intermittence that I did not have time to sit down to draw a single page of graphic novel. It may have been waste of time or life? Yes and No because my plot will be more realistic after all this. This post concludes this section of my True Horror stories. Will Paris provide me with more 'True Horror'? I wait with apprehension because this beautiful but cruel Dame will most likely do so.