Sunday March 19th 2023
I am enjoying the collapse of capitalism and of the financial system. I have heard from my neighbor that his bank is at risk and the he must withdraw his money quite quickly. On the newspapers they are writing about state intervention, while knowledge workers are organizing mass protests nearby the central railways station. They work for an American company where the management does not care to cut if profit is in peril. It is clear that we are on the verge of the Revolution, as Marx would have predicted. Not that I really believe in the writings and theories of that charlatan, but I have linked the credibility of my words and actions to his works. If people will start to look into the Capital and laugh, understanding all the contradictions and the triviality of the content, I will lose my carisma and my power. Actually, right now, I have been hired as an actor impersonating myself and I can hardly afford a regular meal in the city centre. For some reason waiters, mechanics, electricians and any kind of manual workers can survive decently,but not fine intellectuals as I am. The only way to live comfortably would be to join the anarchists of some occupied building, but I would not consider that an option. When I took possession of others’ properties, I always did it with a legal structure in support. I am the leader of the Revolution, not a squatter or a vagabond. In my ideal government there is no place for such typology of persons and I do not doubt that my good friend Stalin knew how to dispose of them. What a Country the Soviet Union should have been at the height of its power! It is just a piety that its leaders began to believe in their own lies and propaganda. If you cannot distinguish reality from the artificial world you have created with lies, plots and forgeries, then you have got quite a scarce chance to survive. Capitalists have revealed themselves much more clever under this perspective. Gold cannot hide the truth. It is tangible and not corruptible. Gold does not betray its owners, until they keep it in their hands. In the end, I love that material and I only regret that in the churches the icons of the saints, with that wonderful and fascinating golden background, have not been substituted by the icon of Lenin, the Saint Patron of the mob and of the working class. I am realizing I am speaking nonsense. The fact of the frustration to live in a world that I cannot recognize anymore, with a less than a secondary role. Perhaps I should really accept permanently the role of a clown, or an actor. That is the only way, at least in the short term, that would allow me to be the Lord of the Red Army.
The Art dealer
I need a break during the weekend. Perhaps I will limit myself to ride to Cambridge on the bike. It should take less than one hour and the weather is so mild that it sounds as an official invitation to stroll between the Fitzwilliam and Fitzbillies. I have never accepted so easily when Fitzbillies closed, although it was just for few months. After it reopened, they sold the Florentine cakes only, while I missed the creamy sugar cakes that I was so crazy to have on regular basis, every day, for breakfast. I will for sure stop by and justify my effort with a visit to the Fitzwilliam. I will also perhaps be able to do some dayhunting, chasing the students of the first years. My colleagues recommend on the contrary to focus on Ph.D. students. They are more mature and perhaps even willing to listen to , and believe, all my stories about art dealing. Younger girls seem not to be interested. Moreover those with a scholarship are bookish enough not to care. The worst one are the leftist artists, who look at any initiative to generate money as if it were the fruit of the devil. Or, worse to say, the conception of an arrogant and evil capitalist. Perhaps the most reproachable creature after South American rightwing politicians and fascist dictators. Those who are aiming to complete a Ph.D. on the contrary have already lived the disenchantment of a life without a proper budget to spend the weekend in London. Just to buy the rail ticket can be a meaningful expense if you need to live on a scholarship. Being the son of a former member of the Red Hand, I could not rely on the liberal connections that guarantee access to some easy money for a well renowned institution. I had to make my way in the world without a generous financial support. I still remember how I had to cheat playing poker or spend the night working by Cindies with the modest dream to be able to visit the Tate Modern on Sundays. That was the place where my conservative mind made my fortune. Had I not considered so extraordinary the lithographic gay lovers of David Hockney, I would have not interested myself for the artist either. I would have neither bet on his cheapest works and all my gains gambling with a deck of cars. One of his lovers, a steward of an airline, is supposed to have collected a small fortune by assembling the posters of his first exhibition. Although I am a boring, hawkish white man, I did the same. I actually had not many other chances, but my choice turned out to be the jackpot. Beside the return of investment, that allowed me to pay a Master's by Christie's, it also allowed me to be considered as an unexperienced expert by some galleries in London and take part in the bigger game. Too much planning does not help. Let’s take a nap. I should have a good performance on my bike tomorrow morning.
I began the week under the most unfavorable circumstances. The bank, the client, is getting all the attention deserved by major financial scandals. I cannot mention the name of the institution, because I signed the NDA, but it is quite evident what I am talking about. The bloggers of InsideParadePlatz are having real fun to expose all the mistakes that have brought us in the current situation. I suppose that the well renowned anticapitalist grounds in the town are also rejoicing. I am far less happy and more than troubled given the fact that I have just started the assignment. External consultants are the first ones to be cut and I could already find myself on the line of fire. Unless the mistrust towards the risk department is so night that they would keep me as a watchdog. I would be perfect in the position, since as an external I would not constitute a danger to the informal hierarchy of the team. Moreover I will be under the constant blackmail to be sent back on the branch from a day to another. That could happen if I do not complete my task with the due speed and quality. That could also happen in case I could start to find what should be kept observed. I found myself in several occasions not at my ease, but I am really feeling the eyes of my colleagues looking in my direction even when I need to go to the gents. Or, actually, therapies. Nevertheless, I will pay attention to all the possible movements around me. It is not unusual, even if for the less serious reasons, it happened to me in the past and it will happen to me again. On the contrary, I need to find quickly a way to discharge the stress. Back in Frankfurt it could have turned out quite easy. A drink afterwards and a nice chat with a casual encounter by Sullivan’s. They told me that La Stanza offers a similar cozy atmosphere if Zoe need a nice chat, or even a romance, in the heart of the cold Zurich. Under such circumstances, I usually miss Cologne, where I was born and grew up. Go out in a Brauerei, order a Kolsch and for sure you’ll have someone beside you happy to share some good words.