If religion is the opium of the working class, it appears that in Zurich the working class has abandoned religion for opium instead. In both cases not at advantage of the Revolution nor of the status quo. Despite feeble minds are usually more malleable. I need to accept the present day debauchery, due to the supposed wealth provided by capitalism. I never loved the idea, I like it even less right now. Had I felt more nationalistic sympathies, more attachment for traditions, perhaps I would have anticipated what Hitler managed to create in Germany. I had, however, enough of the pillars of the Russian Monarchy, of any Monarchy on the planet. I was ambitious enough to desire to establish myself as Czar. Stalin actually did it. My position was perhaps similar to the one attributed to the Fathers of the Roman Catholic Church. Vladimir Lenin, instead of Gregory the Great and many other cloister-makers. Whatever trend the XXI century humankind has decided to follow, it just creates confusion in my mind. Even my Revolution was not so radical to suddenly and powerfully change the thought in billions of people worldwide. I am so curious to travel to India and China to understand whether even in such countries the influence of Americans has been so effective. They have created their own world, with their own illusions and replicated it in Europe. Despite my hatred for capitalism and my paternal disposition for the working class, that I however consider as a noisy child to be grown up, I really cannot identify myself in the proclaimed values of the Open Society. Perhaps by gathering more documentation about Soros and Karl Popper, will provide some improvement. I have heard their names almost perchance, harshly criticized to gather with the Rothschilds. It is odd how only few can attract the attention of the envious. There is much more old gold, dug and secure in the mansions of this planet, to make the Rothschild appear just as poor lads.
The art dealer
I am feeling so stressed these days. I walk around looking for better opportunities, but I cannot find any. The silhouette of the people portrayed by Julian Opie have become to look far too trivial and familial. I bought some flowers, the real ones, not signed by Hockney, Katz or Wood. Actual real flowers, to be taken care of otherwise the sun will burn them. The green fields of the shire are keeping their color despite the global drought. There are red and white flowers on my balcony. “Hath not thy rose a thorn, Plantagenet?”. I wish I could afford a tapestry to adorn my bedroom. Something that could convey the style of the middle ages under a more modern shape. The tapestry must be evocative of a past not any longer understandable if not to the few who kept a strong attachment to their values. It will thus be unique, standing fast against any sort of Revolution, staunch as much as Assad, Putin and even King Charles have been. Nobody wanted them on their respective thrones, but for good or for bad they managed to maintain the power. I am not so dumb to admire Putin or Assad. They are both criminals, moreover with an authentic communist red background. Nevertheless they must be taken as an example of people who continue to fight even when the rest of the world, if not their own countries, want them to step aside. Our good King Charles if of totally different breed, the best one that Europe can still give birth to. I always loved him, even when he was so low in popularity and the press, the republican press, depicted him as Lady Diana’s murderer. I never liked Lady Diana instead, whose image has been so falsely and hypocritical ennobled by the enemies of the Royal House. The Crown shall never have to doubt my loyalty instead, of the son of Alistair Shepherd, the bravest among the warriors who fought for Ulster. I should calm down and focus on my flowers. There is a lot of hope in flowers and even by spending a whole weekend just by gardening, it will be a good improvement in my present conditions.
The time in Dresden is so enjoyable, especially right now with the first sunshine of the springtime. The fields are covered with flowers and I regret that I need to travel back to Zurich during the weekends. Nobody forbids me to stay over in the hotel, but then my budget would be hitten once again. In Zurich life is so expensive that I could easily compensate by going to the theater and dine out twice a day. Then, once back in Zurich, I shall dedicate myself to the low cost activities. There are quite a lot available if you include every single walk around the town, the woods and the hills, or mountains, in the nearby. The main problem is that in such a way I cannot really connect with either community. I can survive by myself, but I need strong connections in both cities to develop the company business and, consequently, my career. Perhaps I should make an extra effort and go out on a regular basis during the week. Months of home office during the time of the pestiferous virus have made me so lazy and perhaps even shy. I am still waiting for my next Tinder date. I just cannot decide even in that sense. I previously enjoyed some good time with a good looking stranger. Or at least a caring, intelligent, humorous and reasonable one. Someone with whom it was possible to get invited in his bed without fearing to be torn apart and sold the next day on a chinese market. Perhaps I read too many crime stories or my brain has been exposed far too often to Act X and similar other programs. Let’s come back to the proposition with priority number one, i.e. secure my career and any chance to get promoted fast, thus to allow myself a comfortable and cozy expat home and perhaps even a family. It is not so easy. The salary of a senior consultant is just enough to have a decent standard of living, according to the expectations of the brand you are working for. If however you want to save enough to settle down, then you really need a director's chair. Unless you do not want to stay abroad with a lower standard of life than you could have had if you stayed at home and quietly waited for the standard job offers to materialize. Skol!, to my schoolmates who stayed.