I T. Mordichai Mumsey, fifty-three years young, was a person that was born with a certain awareness of the world at large. Perhaps better said in mentioning a world beyond it. I was also born with an anger that seemed unquenchable. Something that had to do with all things female and being enslaved perhaps too willingly. Early one being forced by some anonymous power to have to forgo happiness for fear. pleasure for sadness and sorrow. A heaviness around the heart that seemed to keep the notion in mind that death and maybe something worse lurked persistently neat just out of sight.
Somehow I had fallen into the circle of the extremely wealthy and ridiculously famous. An internationally celebrated person who at face value lived an extemporaneous lifestyle that was inclusive of many different types of personalities as sidekicks all along for the ride. The singular primary star in their collective universe having chosen them passively without prejudice as to their backgrounds or peculiar quirks. Of course, he didn’t need to because the people in this circle, many of them, were more than happy to oblige him automatically in order to garner his favor to ensure their small part in a very dramatic and exciting lifestyle as part of his entourage. I for one had unexpectedly been inducted into this cadre supposedly by happenstance. Someone who had come by to fulfill a service after the brevity of a passing conversation that at this point could not be summoned to mind. The privilege of hanging about enjoyed by a variety of other people seemingly no different than myself of different stature and status. I knew enough to speak when spoken to and stay on the sidelines of the action but also made sure to be in attendance. One aspect that seemed strange was walking about the halls of the mansion always in the midst to change clothes from my paltry supply of pathetic hand me down glad rags all tattered and frayed that I had initially brought along. I seemed to have to be unexpectedly without trousers as the general chaos about the place made these transitions complex maneuvers around sofas and temporarily deserted hopefully remote hallway corners. Sometimes I would be caught with my pants down. All of this behavior as worse being the butt of some temporal jest but still tacitly accepted by the fact that it was otherwise ignored. Yet these encounters would still hover over me as a reminder that I personally was very very very poor in both wealth and status at the lowest end of the real crowd that could claim proper title to being acceptable. I continued with my act of easy familiarity not pushing myself too conspicuously on my host or the members of his informally royal court. This spoke to me that I along with most of all of the others was on the edge of deceit that disingenuous both to me and my more than gracious host. And I struggled mightily with myself now being under that role. It bothered me. And yet I couldn’t tear myself away and just walk out the door to get away from it. And in time, little by little, I was accepted. Another house pet? My ever generous patron was ever engaged in building the fame of his movie box office persona through action packed blockbuster movies sequels. Though he was aging he was ever more a force of nature in demonstrating a wellspring of physical endurance and dare devil regimen of stunt work that would have paled the complexion of the average army Ranger. Here and there he would deign to hold a short conversation or grant a nod of acknowledgement in a very democratic sense of total awareness of his own immediate surroundings. More and more the little tasks I assigned led to ever greater even more important ones. My status slowly rising within the pecking order of the general melange. The two orders of conversation existed, one being polite that topically concerned the events of that day. And another more salacious and gossip ridden as to who was on the outs or wheedling their way in a little deeper. More and more I was being considered as part and parcel of this scene. The fact of this weighing heavy on my private thoughts leaving me unsettled.
Deep in this crowd where I was literally camped out between a coffee table and a sofa with people milling in and out. Some for simple recreation from much larger suites while other going from one end to the other attempting to fulfill the master’s requests. I squatting there in my own form of silent self-loathing. Not liking the fact of an issue with myself and myself. Would I descend to a point like so many others where I would perform? Would I surrender myself to always being fully available? Or would it be more moral to maintain a remote distance? Or best yet, just to just unceremoniously pack up and leave? When evaluating the benefits that I was presently enjoying when weighed against all this what would I finally conclude? But then there was something else about this, a feeling of unease . . . one bordering upon fear. Something repellent and yet just equally attractive. The only analogy that seemed to relate being an animal in a cage whose only desire was wanting to perform for its master for crumbs or maybe a treat. I didn’t like that! I didn’t like the fact that this place and the people in it brought out thoughts like this about myself. But then I wondered if there was another aspect to this situation? That something much larger and more deviously subtle was at play lurking behind this scenario? Something that was beyond my own ability to perceive or easily pick up on. That in some strange unfathomable way my inner depths were being plumbed by an undefinable force and I was being used as a test case of a sort in a clandestine experiment. An undisclosed agency of some sort that was compiling information in terms of the boundaries and limitations of the human personality. That all the rest of the flash and performance was simply a front to set the subjects at ease and keep them unaware. Perhaps a sort of finishing school of a sort indicating that my entire life had been observed and recorded to such a degree that this mysterious ‘they’ could even reveal the identity that I had held in past lives. A thought that was mind numbing to the point of shocking to even consider. I felt like a rat trapped in a metal cage. I wanted to believe that all this mental anguish was simply my own paranoia dome of too many disappointments. That this situation was a positive turning point or at the very least a hiatus from the vagaries of the indifference of an intemperate society that cared little whether I existed or not. That bothered me. Yet to continue this way in this place would dissolve my identity. Something that had always been precariously in question. I wanted to be my own man but yet I also wanted to belong within this lap of apparent luxury that currently surrounded me.
And then, I had to admit that this brought out a Sadistic / Masochistic element in all this. Something that brought out a deeply held secret element from within that my conscious mind had always steered clear of acknowledging. I could only say that at some time in the past, despite sorting through all the experiences and various forms of actions that one customarily goes through in life , those short bouts of errant behavior, that I must have been a slave. Someone that was dramatically abused at will over a period of time. And then alternately pampered? And alternately enjoyed the abuse visited upon them. Enjoyed being humiliated and led around upon a leash. It was very sick! Venal to think that my psyche relished this sort of treatment and wanted to continue to indulge within. Further deep down I felt that I had been afflicted with a poison as if bitten by a snake. It’s venom slowly spreading through my body over the many intervening years. Disconnecting those cables to my independence and chaining me to something dark and unspeakable to be able to cogently imagine.