Adam Hart: Form and Content

Notes on content:

Something of a speed freak, a runaway train, the pace of this story is furious, reflecting the nature of Adam. Its all about racing to the next moment and eating it alive; as the story develops i intend to show more of an obsessive nature, without purpose at first;

Adam is just a working name; he will have to fall eventually to find a more rewarding purpsoe; so far he's just beating his own demons for want of something better to do. He loathes his work colleagues for their denial of their demons, for living under them, while he bootstaps his own in private.

He is a cynic, but he doesn't yet know it.

He's a private character. From personal experience I know that cynicism is often seen as something undesirable, and until he bootstraps the philosophy itself he will keep his own counsel.

He will cotinue to eat life like an insatiable beast until he has a moment of satori, during which he will realise that he is not simply racing from moment to moment for the sheer hell of it, but that there is a deeper philosophy to it. At this point he will calm a little, and step back. New characters will be introduced shortly before or shortly after this event.

The reason for this is that Adam starts off as cynics often do, resenting imposed thought and action to such a degree that he fights it in all corners of his life. He rants and raves, not because he is sick, but because he is at odds with his true identity. Not knowing what his true identity is, he is, as the story starts, engaged simply in the destruction of his imposed identity - the career man, the hotshot.

His moment of Satori will reveal to him that his mind is simply a freeform series of associations imprinted haphazardly and by chance - with no intent, good or bad - and that in destroying his attachment to these parts of himself, he has only just begun in his quest for a true identity, not created one as he so thinks. Nevertheless, this furious adventure he finds himself on (he is about to become homeless "voluntarily") is his Genesis.

In the second part of the story he will begin his Exodus, in which his self-sufficient mind will begin to look for ways to form a relationship with the society he has rejected not out of a need for security or stability - he will always reject those things - but because he realises that he will never be free of it. He is part of something larger than himself. His mind, the mind so grossly endorsed by a disfunctional society, is no longer in charge. He sees it for what it is, but now he must put consciousness to use. This is where he begins to find his true identity, and reconcile it with his nature.

As first steps towards change, we attempt to cultivate an awareness ov thee consequences ov our thoughts and actions, and to direct our energies in constructive directions. All this is done on thee understanding that our thoughts and behaviour form thee interface between our lives and thee lives ov others, and their repercussions are therefore endlessly returning. - TOPY.net

Notes on Form

Obviously the story rhymes, in order to give it a racing pace and suck the reader in.

I want to avoid turning the dark edge of the story into something easy to digest by turning it into a nursery rhyme - I want to use more half rhymes but keep the pace, like one word automatically generates the next. Moment to moment, wor(l)ds within wor(l)ds.

The times used will be uniform: 6.15am and 6.15pm, 7.30am and 7.30pm, for example, to give an element of continuity and of mundane routine to the life of Adam, while his mind remains furious and untamed. As an obsessive with an mind beyond the scope of most of society, in its raw form able to free itself from addictions at will and function while under the influence, a great control juxtapositioned with a lack of value for the greater social goods such as stability and security, he remains covert, although at points in the story he will be told he is having a break down and on a downward spiral as he changes tack, and lives, too quickly for people to understand, and often in "undesirable" ways.

There will also be an element of continuity in his rehearsing his lines, which will be a device used at the beginning of each new development or change in character. I havn't written these yet either, but they will be something like "Adam Hart, 29 born in London, he's on time and he's feeling fine" but with subtle changes throughout, and leading to completly different situations in which, at times, he is not fine.

The juxtapositioning of a furious mind with an external routine betrays the presence of an underlying, yet unconscious, philosophy, as does the "Adam Hart, 29" device.

The Story so far:

The Sad Story of Adam Hart:
first sketch, first draft

6:15Wakes, lights a fag, fumbles with a spliff and takes a line, he's doing fine, on time - work starts at 8, but first to wash off the cold sweat, disinfect another series of sores - who's blood is that? - he crawls from his mattress place deliberatly on the floor. With the furniture gone he's space to lie, sprawled, and breathe, going over the nightmare visions of last nights dreams. These days these dreams are all that offer any sembalance of continuity to his fragile identity and ramshackle beliefs.

The waters cold as it splutters from the communal shower, but he likes it. How long has this madness been going on, with what precident? How long has this single room been his home, he was no longer sure - the drugs had given him an appetite but little more.

Before the dusty mildewed mirror he rehearses his lines; Adam Hart, 29, born in London and he's on time. Doing fine. He brushes his teeth with a little charlie, sighs and eats a mint.

"Get out of the bathroom, twat! My wifes preggers and she needs the sink!"

Time to leave. He shaves in his room and dons a suit. Two boxes for clothes, one clean, the other anybodies guess. Destressed, a little more time to breathe, the standard flapjack and trail mix for breakfast, but at least he's clean. His colleagues know the score, he lives for work but little more, or so they think; between 9-5 he's clena cut and enthusiastic, carefully compassionate, never drinks.

7.15 He's out the door nd down the prefab streets, sharp as a razor he cuts past the tired faces he meets, a slight twang of pity for those that sup lattes for kicks, and he's at the bus stop. Then too quickly he's moving through the bleached white corridors, bleach scented and half lit, into the office and picking up forms, smiles and greetings from colleagues he mimicks but mostly ignores. Its a sales job, keeps the bastard wolf from the door while he tests his strength and wages his very private, very personal war.

The day comes and goes.

5.30 And he stops to reminisce, while his colleagues get pissed and talk office in their local; Sallys got her BMW, Kev hates the Euro, Bens got a new guest house and all are wondering how the MDs enjoying his chartered flight to Morrocco; Buts he's rolling a phatty, alone, sitting atop a grave in Park Hill cemetary, taking stock and thinking about how soon he'll be with Abbey.

The most potent drug of them all was Love, and he didn't trust it at all! The only dream more powerful than Nirvana was the sweet embrace of Abbey and the promise of their future.

In the mad world of Adam, there's no telling what dreams may come.

6.15 And Adam decides its time to stop encouraging this particular demon; his nose itches, his fingers a twitching, the sweat is perfuse, but somewhere behind these symptoms this man is enjoying is a heart within reason - this is why he lives, and why he'll ride it. Another shower and a bee-line to the communal kitchen, his hunger raging, a packet of eggs and a packet of bacon and he's out the door, then too quickly to the office once more.

7.30am for an early start, accosted already by the office flirt; she mistakes for mystery what happens to be a careful guile. He can't tell sometimes whether he's dead in side as all the while these simple rituals of the herd make him rile, and writhe inwardly - its an affront to his sensibilities! He's a bastard, he knows it, but impulse is his enemy; he abstains for powers sake and to live more deliberatly.

The day dies quickly.

7.30pm Takes his running shoes from their in-box hybernation, hits the road. He's already decided he can't stand this job, its time to move. There's enough money in his bank for his next transition; without fail he's made his mundane life an adventure, the good grades and good degree, the good references and the good opportunities all traded like commodities, while in private he lives like a monster. Its Jekyll and Hyde, driven not by foolish pride but by a biting emptiness. He values nothing of the greater good, its all come to easy, easier than it should.

6.15am And Adam wakes with a start, he's only eight this morning, a small boy in the big world of his family, its sharpe teeth grimly emerging; his first impressions of this new day are coloured by the barbs and blood of his parents cries, harsh words the meanings of which are lost between walls but the tension of which is carried in his heart and, in his innocence, amplified. He is afraid, but his first thought is to fight, put hesitation aside and reign in his feelings, if only to walk down the stairs and ask for some silence;

"Mum, Dad, I can't go to school this morning"

They understand better than Adam does, send him upstairs and quietly resume their argument.

7.30am Sees Adam in the office - Adam Hart, 29, born in London and he's doing fine, he's been clean and working out for three weeks now and the change is showing - working on a little personal business, ready to and in his resignation at 8, right on time.

"Morning Adam - busy weekend?"

Its Sally, Ms BMW, and in 30 minutes he'll be but a memory, so why pretend?
"Yes, Sally, I'm quitting - doing this job should be a crime! You rob single mothers under the guise of health insurance they'll never use and spend their money on flash cars ad a new kitchen appliance. God, where's your sense of decency, your compassion?"

Already bent back over his piece of paper, Adam misses the tear forming in the corner of Sallys eye as she turns to walk away, stifling her reaction. She really like Adam, he'd always been so nice.

7.30pm Over a drink, aloe, Adam is priding himself on his new freedom, and on the eloquence and originality of his resignation; a short letter it simply read

My Dear Crapulous Contemporaries,

Sorry it had to end this way, but it is evident that your existence is no longer required.

The age of capitalist industrialism has expired. This Earth no longer needs a workforce of the greatest possible number, with its drone likes yourself blindly following social convention and orders - no, its time for educated individuals, and for this reason I fear it is time for me to leave.

I intend to discover my own style of living, and my own method of education, and nature shall offer me patronage, not the economy.

Good bye, good riddance, and thanks for all the fish. Your inanities really have been amusing, but now its time for something fresh.

Enjoy your slow and miserable deaths,

All best,

A.H.

He was right, he knew he was….