It is indoctrinated to myself, that I shouldn't live like a bourgeois. The standard of comfort, which a good citizen and already normal citizen in Switzerland reaches through acquisition, is infinitely and unreachably high …. maybe, because it is omnipresent and mega-present (internet, media, watch tv etc.) and Switzerland sells this cold, unattainable, solid standard of comfort ….
… I am surprised now, that I'm freezing in my new home ….
… it is stop – according to the cost item- probably not so perfectly sealed …
I grew up in a country, in which everything is well sealed and insulated inside and out … down to the human soul!
In fact, I think so, that life in the well-isolated middle class or even the narrow middle class, where the apartments are well insulated, are calm and still and beautiful, is not feasible … for somebody, who wants to live ….!!!!
Middle-class / scarce or medium-sized ordinary citizens must be tailored to standardized comfort, and vice versa. But the price, that they pay for this convenience …. is sick ….
Because a good one, isolated 2-room standard comfort apartment – typically expressionless and cold Swiss! – at a standard rental price of 1400srf. is affordable, the citizens of this country cannot live in their homes, because they earn money around the clock or then on (money) are output.
I didn't have a poor childhood. But that my parents worked their way up and renounced a lot; at least that's what I got. It was clear to me early on: The world of comfort is not my place, because I am / will not be a good citizen, because I want to have a life …. maybe like a bohemian.
My first reward was 15.50 the hour, I was too 50 Percent employed in the Stauffacher station bookstore, probably already had myalgic encephalomyelitis persistent tachycardia while resting and standing 110/120. But I briefly sold books, in a windy passage. I typed amounts into a light brown cash register with large button-eye keys. Sometimes I miscounted myself in issuing the coin ….
So I knew, that life is rough. And yet I was this rough and bitter Swiss “Peace” never grown at all.
I notice this again now, where a bit of storm wind penetrates through the cracks of my old building. I've never been a bohemian …. even if my mind may never have had a roof over its head …
Like two opposing forces of nature, pulling at two ends of a rope; this is me, consisting of the freedom and breadth of my mind and the mimosa-like, pathological fragility, and, downright decay of my body …..
My inner life has basically been a catastrophe. I went from one disaster to the next, inside of me, this was relatively normal for me. And yet I stopped at some point, to move in the outer world, I stayed in my four walls, for further damage …. and by that I mean primarily physical … prevent and transform.
That's how it went so-so. But loneliness has settled in me like a sediment!
I wanted (over the years!) so love to interact again, Make changes, get involved in my environment!!!!!
And now I'm falling again. I would so much like to be a bird ….
I have belongings every day for almost eight weeks, Dingelchen, Small warmers packed in boxes. Got sorted, disposed of, wrapped around, stacked …..discarded ….probed …. isolated!! Now these boxes are here, and my dream of an empty apartment, an empty room, in which I finally see clearly …. dissolves. I see belongings again, Were … Used items … and can't decide; what is junk? And where are my wings? Always a threat! Not visible! And a ghost, unterjocht ….
Bohemian life; this is what my mind wanted: a mattress, a table, a pen, a book … that's how it started … back then … but then …. what was added …
1998 I traveled to Leipzig in the car with a colleague, to hump at the literature institute there. I took two suitcases with me, my first computer and a tabletop. Minus 20 It was degree on August-Bebel-Strasse at the end of January … I was extremely cold….
A year later, the upper-class citizen and son of an accountant had me, W., my father, in the big Mitsubishi out of the apartment and temporarily lived with my parents again. I had signed a 6-year contract with two bad guys, that made the kitchen utensils go moldy … But maybe that was just the pretext. In fact, I barricaded myself at my desk in my room with plum mousse and beige from absurd phrases … I didn't know what to do next in Leipzig.
What are you going to do now? Asked W. He thought, my writing phase is now over. A year later he said, he would like to see me “gut” married … with a manor. But I didn't know any such men, who made it to the bourgeoisie …
… I only knew a little one back then, Who put his hand to my heart every night, because i believed, because of my resting heart rate of 120 to die … Is, the small, Most human, I've ever met, lived in a small demolition house, without a heater. However, he had set up two small oil stoves and placed two pans over them, filled with evaporating water due to the drought … Even so, the damp and cold penetrated the carpet, yes even through the mattress ….
Where should I have gone?? With my mind without a home, my body, who needed a little comfort … a comfort, that I couldn't work for myself, which is why I don't deserve it? I went on sale, 40 percent, 20 Francs hourly wages …. bought my first pumps … moved into a rooftop studio in Bern, 550srf/mntl., Auto curve in front of the house, my first fried egg sizzled in a mini pan, thought: now everything is fine. Become a writer.
My head is firing. The cold rose into my body as feverish warmth. And memory.
I have this afternoon (as a former city dweller) visited the largest shopping center ever. The Bruges Migros Center. Mountains of Easter bunnies and chocolate eggs with dots (the, that my dad stuffed like peanuts) would have filled several of my rooftop studios!!! Like giant cranes made of mussels or a slide made of balls in the furniture store for the children …(13.3.19)