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The Nemophile (2)

posted Friday, 14 July 2006
'Nemo' = Latin for 'Nobody'.
=====================

Below is the second part of WEIRDTONGUE the novel.


continued from HERE or HERE .

This part was amended on 19 July 2006. No further amendments of any part are likely.

==================================

Gregory was officially cured and excused further in-patient treatment, soon realising - as he did by virtue of the cure and his renewed powers of realisation - that part of the treatment he had just undergone in the hospital ward was the disease itself. Nemophilia had been induced to remove any taint of nemophobia (a variant form of self-mythology). Indeed, this induction of nemophilia - allowing vacuous urges to be released from their pent-up mind-trap by the hare-chase of aspirational non-existence - revealed aspects of an extreme nemophobia (self-centeredness where everything was self and nothing non-self), the latter being his more natural state of existence when unaffected by disease, which state of being unaffected, paradoxically, was the same disease in disguise.

In summary, nemophilia was the desire to be a nobody, but not simply a desire, but an intractable passion to self-efface or to become both nameless and unnameable. Nemophobia was its apparent opposite by hating that nemophiliac self.

In this way, nemophobia and nemophilia, whilst superficial opposites, were also part of a synergistic, symbiotic oxymoron-relationship, a situation that encouraged further self-effacement by needing to face up to the self-disgust created by the recognition of the self itself. It also created extreme wordiness of expression as a by-product: an unwanted side effect.

Meanwhile, the quality (or not) of the self itself did not matter; it was simply the very recognition of it (of any self) that created this paradoxical disease (akin to but distinct from Dream Sickness, of which more later).

His eyes skimmed the hospital release papers as he gradually recognised the surroundings of his own flat, still dishevelled from his absence, but about to be further dishevelled by his presence. The name ‘Gregory Mummerset’ was clearly printed at the top together with his real-world address (this flat). Followed by scrawled officialese, presumably a prescription for his own general practitioner or pharmacist. Gregory did not need to know. He cringed at knowing his own name. He’d rather be called the Weirdmonger. At least that name did not exist as a signpost for a real person.

There came a knocking at his door. He had been left here only an hour before by the hospital car. And the driver had knocked upon leaving in the way Gregory imagined he had been taught to do, as a dress rehearsal for the real knocking that now had indeed arrived. Gregory did not believe in ghosts. But he was yet unaware of the power of fiction to produce them in real life. He was soon to learn many things as he was taken abroad on a Grand Tour to all the health spas of Middle Europe. Indeed to the Magic Mountain itself.

He lifted himself heavily from the table-seat (reminding him of the one in the carrel at the hospital) – and opened the door.

“Hiya, Gregory,” said the beaming face of his girl friend. She was soon remembered and Gregory gave her a light kiss on the cheek.

“How are you, Suzie?” he said. “I didn’t have chance to let you know that I was coming out today.”

“I somehow knew, when I saw the curtains drawn,” she said.

He looked over her shoulder as if he expected someone to be behind her.

“Why didn’t you visit me?”

She shrugged. “Mum has been ill. My hands have been full. Sorry.”

“I only had one visitor and that was yesterday.”

“You’ve only been in three days.”

“It seemed like years.”

“Are you feeling better?”

Gregory frowned. He did not know. Part of his bad health was not being able to differentiate good and bad health. “I must be better. Do I look better?”

“You look great. Aren’t you going to let me in?”

“I’ve got nothing in,” he said looking back into the room. “Are you alone?”

“Of course, I’m alone,” she said, taking it upon herself to cross the threshold, ignoring the half-hearted attempts to guard his territory against visitors.

Her shadow – at cross-purposes with the direction of the light – followed her in.


THE WHOLE OF WEIRDTONGUE NOVELLA: HERE
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1. Weirdmonger left...
Tuesday, 15 July 2008 6:21 pm :: http://weirdmonger.mindsay.com/weirdtong

NB: THE WHOLE 'WEIRDTONGUE' NOVELLA IS NOW AT A NEW LINK SHOWN IMMEDIATELY ABOVE - NOT THE ONE AT THE END OF THE POST.