On sunday by my own
The sun has risen once more and it’s sunday. A day for preaching, it were not that I have preferred to declare myself an atheist than to pay the Kirchensteuer. An expensive toll extorted to any believer, on the western side of the Berlin Wall, as if they were purposely trying to eradicate any religious feeling. Yet, Germany is a democracy and does not belong to the Soviet Union. Any doubt about the intentions that such an extra fee, taken from the private incomes of every citizen who formally professes the existence of God, is actually directed to discourage to attend the Service on Sunday, should be confuted. At least by a simple mind.
Living alone, spending forlorn the whole week end could induce depression mixed with few moments of euphory. You could also linger, taking your own time, on fruitless studies, undertaken under the influence of some bad dream. Or you could also procrastinate to eternity the essential tasks of daily life. First among them cooking and properly washing the floor. A trend that eventually brings the unfortunate inhabitant of a single mansion to look like a dirty and scrubby eremite who hardly enjoys the pleasures to live within a community.
It is however quite desirable by anybody who does not like the interference of public opinion with the contingencies of private life. Nor that of the central government, although far too difficult to fight. For anybody concerned with state control, the previous night , or early morning, encounter, is most likely to be upsetting. I have indeed started a serie of unfortunate conjectures that have brought me to several emotional state, fear, anxiety, terror, rage up to an insane sense of revenge.
I felt the exile of that young lady not so dissimilar from mine and I felt the great injustice that a large community could bring to any kind of minority. Even more I did not accept that such a strong and unavoidable law, such as that provided by the invisible hand that wisely regulates the economy, could be so harshly denied. Up to the point that the madness by which the adepts of socialism are affected, so fiercely fights to forge and threaten the thoughts of individuals. Even in a nominal democracy, even in a country where private property is officially recognized as a basic right of a human being.
It is quite uncomfortable and threatening. Although I am allowed to posses my small piece of land, I live like an erratic existence figuring out to be a wandering jew persecuted for his own religion and condemn to seek shelter from a city to another. The will to react is strong, but it is also really hard. Mainly because lack of time and discipline. A true petit-bourgeois trouble, that so ironically affects any chance of success of my cause. My opponents do not have such problems. At least they do not reason like the Homo Economicus, therefore they don’t take account of scarcity of resources. Time, money, lumber or anything else.
Perhaps just scarcity of lumber would impel them to reason, at least those with a greenish background, but just to find the easy and immediate solution to cut any lumber provision to the needs of humans.
I felt stressed enough, playing with such tortuous elucubrations that just distract my mind by the most useful tasks. At the end of the day, without having accomplished the slightest goal, you feel even more depressed and, going back to your thoughts, you enjoy the last couple of hours before midnight in front of a screen. They broadcast some brain pain-killer, a trivial distraction, written somewhere in the western world by liberal writers, enacted by red performers, in order to provide a reasonable ROI to uncaring capitalist investors. Brain wash starts from there, but nobody seems to notice men and women from the middle class struggling not to be dragged away by the socialist flood.
At around 23:30 I was already completely asleep. I could estimate that time on the basis of some inferences derived by the last Facebook post and the length of the movie I had watched.
