Today didn’t really go according to plan. I was gonna chill out and learn my lines at home. A friend came over in the morning as he had a self tape and didn’t feel comfortable to do it at his home, a sublet room in Essex.
While doing the tape it was clear he wasn’t in a great place mentally. He’s been in a very manipulative relationship with this live-in landlord. They are renting multiple rooms in a big rented house, paying eighty percent of the rent and needing everyone to know this. They often would have conversations about how “I want you to think of me as an equal,” which immediately proves that they don’t and they never will. There had been a little misunderstanding the day before and it had escalated hugely.
Just as we got the scene in the can, before editing, my mate got a “this isn’t working, you’ll need to be out by the 25th September.” text.
He’s been homeless a few times. No parents. His support network is his friends. And this landlord has just casually pulled the plug over a misunderstanding. I wouldn’t want to sleep another night there. The manipulation was clear to me though, particularly when I saw some message history.
Apparently it’s a pattern. It happened with other people in “the family” in that Essex house. The previous victim did what the landlord was fishing for: “Oh please m’lord no no m’lord I’ll change my ways, from hereinforeward I shall be contrite and hobedient to your desires and wishes oh don’t put me back on the street I’m begging ya.” They were forgiven but it was on their record. My friend shines far too brightly for that. “You absolutely shouldn’t hold taking away somebody’s housing as a threat because you’re upset with them.”
He’s not gonna eat shit for anyone, least of all this classic example of a manipulative narcissist. Problem is, the house is in Essex.
Took about an hour to drive there. Thankfully there’s a lot of room in Bergie.
The “family” were home. Neglected dogs and cats, emotionally manipulated humans, one quite still quite watchful central figure. “They are a millionaire and they have fiscal power,” I am told by my friend for the umpteenth time. Yeah right and they’re running a budget Manson family in a rented terraced house in Essex. “You told me they were a millionaire first, and you told me that three times, before you told me anything else about them. Could it be that that’s a piece of information they want you to be leading with when you think about them?”
Money is power in this system, according to the people who buy into the system. I don’t. He doesn’t. This fucker of a landlord was another one of the fire extinguishers. Some people see candles and pinch them out. There are loads of people like that. Loads. Loads. Look behind you. Loads. My friend is a radiator, and he is delightfully unconventional in a way that is going to cause a certain type of person to want to own him, control him, gently and softly smotheringly extinguish him over time. Loads.
I wouldn’t go in the house. I couldn’t. It was like there was a visible umbra over it. It took me by surprise how hard it hit me but it was palpable. They spend a lot of time in that garden. Who’s buried in there? My mate dodged a bullet. It is a dark dark place. “The cats only come into my room,” he says. “They don’t want to be anywhere else.” Yep. Cats know. They need to get the fuck out too.
The family became aware of me loading Bergman, and they all came out on the driveway, (apart from my friend, up in his room hoovering). They had a loud animated fun conversation pointed directly at me. “LOOK AT US JUST CASUALLY GOING ABOUT OUR NORMAL FUN FAMILY BUSINESS AHHHAAAHAHAHAHA EVERYTHING IS SO FUNNY WE ARE HAPPY AND FUN.”
“They clocked me waiting and put on a show for me!” I tell my friend.
“I wondered what was going on. They never stay on the driveway like that, never. That’s the first time since I’ve been here.” Because they knew I was waiting and they wanted to show me how normal and fun they all are.
My friend hadn’t realised the extent to which everything in that house was manipulation. He tells me “The landlord was fostered. They’ve made their money running a fostering business.” No. The landlord was likely abused. I reckon they’ve made their adulthood transferring that abuse. It’s a common coping strategy and the wrong choice. Loads.
I got home at eleven. My mate is on the sofa, his stuff is in Bergman. Despite my indigestion I was starving and Brian had made spaghetti bolognese. I did a big late eat again. No booze but I’m really hoping I can cope with it. Had a lot of coconut water today and have been very very careful lately so hopefully. Still feels funny down there.
Now I’ve got a friend looking for a home, on my sofa for a bit. He’s ace but we all need to be able to close the door. Anyone?
AlBarclay 