Of the mass of petitions that stream by in a day, one proves most amusing for writing purposes.”Signez ma pétition… stop au lynchage !…” etc.
Righteous indignation. A call to end “the stream of lies” orchestrated by a Mayor’s enemies against his person and that of his admirable wife. I know these people, the woman says. I’ve worked with them since nineteen seventy-eight. Together we pulled the town away from the clutches of the Communists. Etc.
Of interest here: the talking points, the rallying cries are exactly the same as those on every single petition fueled by (or mimicking) righteous indignation. Righteous indignation against police brutality. Against disintegrating nuclear reactors. Against harmful pesticides and herbicides. And, in this case, against those awful journalists digging into the curious, bizarre and somewhat intriguing opulence of the Mayor and his wife’s lifestyle.
I’m not quite satisfied with the resulting fictional scene yet. Nor am I clear on some of the missing links that will make the final chapters worth a) writing then b) reading. Still. Merci, real Madame from Levallois-Perret, kindred spirit to a few fictional ladies from a non-existent town you would not wish to live in. Aïe aïe aïe.
Sorting through the too-many-things-to-say (and do) both in real time and in story. Still no idea where I’ll stay next. I should be in a frenzy of anxiety, perhaps, but other things take priority. I’m sure the frenzy will show up at some point and I’ll do much writhing and fainting in coils.
Allez. For now: the day.