Decay (working version) Of course we were hineingeohrfeigt in this life, in this abstraction, in this primitive role that had never even substance of which was never more than the lower output of a wish.
The big creep began immediately after birth, can happiness after this short period in which we cry when we want without getting his mouth stuffed. In which we laugh einscheißen, and no one reproaches us that we are depraved, antisocial subjects. In general subjects: In this state, we are still a fresh product from the candy factory of life. Sticky, expensive, unused. Later, they teach us the duck until we breathe the filth until we suffocate in us, by us.
But the core, yes, that is all good people, people, all of them, because now no one is wishing the other to the death or the plague. Since we are all friendly neighbors who feel only a very secret, well hidden corner envy of some beautiful woman or the slightly larger car, on the bright Daimler polished perhaps, or flown in from Brazil, which has the tits can make and the cobblestone pedestrian zone used as a catwalk.
They are, so are we.
eight weeks did it take until we said goodbye to the modern Bibles, from all of its kind ranging from eight weeks and tight driving snow to God-fearing people, the Sunday pray in the church of their Lord and observe all the virtues, to operate in the exact opposite. Yes, the love nature. If you like the history books to be believed, then the human nature has defeated long ago, we flew to the moon, know how deep the ditch Marianne and know the woods like the back of our pockets. Nature makes us just sometimes worry if they allowed themselves to the statistics, measurements and databases, and object to extinguish at a stroke thousands of lives. Then we call disasters. Actually, we know nothing about the nature of nature, but we do not know. Because if we see in her face, we always see a part of ourselves
Once the access roads had become impassable, the general mood in the village was perhaps a little uneasy. Not anymore. On the streets and at the post office saw little groups stand together, who were talking animatedly about the weather, and that it was the harshest winter in living memory. The most plausible explanation was that would be the Agency for Technical Relief, whose base was located in the valley, slowly but surely pave their way through the snow. It was believed four or five days, all naive souls perhaps a half weeks. Then it became clear that the situation was more complicated than had been assumed. The actual seriousness of the situation was clear at this time no one, for many it was probably a welcome break in their otherwise monotonous life, something of an adventure. But when even the last optimists realized that no one would come to save us, as well as important to them at the child, melancholy mood of the Snowed one. Slowly but surely, it was deadly serious. After four weeks, I watched through my binoculars, like a masked, rushed with sticks and lead pipes armed mob barricaded the grocery store, stole the last food reserves and the older couple who operate this business, killed on the street. Their blood that seeped red in the white snow, I could see quite a visual aid.
I always made a joke of it to spy on my music room in the village. It all started that I was looking after feeding a good place for the armchair my grandfather, and the large bay window in the broader music room offered a call. So I sat at night in the ruined heirloom, heard the operas of Brahms and drank bourbon. Sometimes I even cleaned, just like that to drive my boredom, a Winchester from the collection of my late father. And then when the twilight slowly announced, and the lights were turned, were the other property shortly afterwards like a giant, fluorescent scared of the panoramic windows, I was sitting comfortably behind the lost and heard operas in deafening volume.
The astronomy was only one of the many passions of my father, and that the telescope, which, if somewhat old-fashioned, but nonetheless was still fully functional, offered at the same as the bay window. Thus, one said to another, even though my venerable old man has probably never dreamed of it, look at the life of strangers out of pure voyeurism. I was a welcome change, and above all, I got something going, that is the comedy of life, and in all its cruelty, reduced to a small prism. No, my father would have determined not to misuse this happy. He was not a man of a trivial nature, but a loner, who all he did, subjected to a detailed plan, a plan had to look for any outsider, any non-insiders as abstruse metaphysics. He had bought this house for very specific reasons, and if be precise, there were ideological reasons.
It was high, not like other property in the region on a slope, but directly on the crest of the mountain, in a shallow valley, which had the forces of nature probably eroded over the millennia into the rock. The amount, which he had been particularly important, and it was far away from all natural sources, no rivers, lakes, mountain streams in the vicinity that was the second important point which he had deemed essential.
The house was in when he signed the purchase agreement, in a shabby and pitiful state, strictly speaking, not even arrived at the concept house, quite not really it was more than a derelict ruin, its decaying matter more and more disintegrated. It remained uninhabited for decades. If one could believe the reports of the natives, it had been in earlier times, the residence of a nobleman who suffered from schizophrenia and who, in poverty and half mad, took the life in which he is the steep cliff that the land on the rear side of the main house fell down limited. The body was never found, but probably had only trivial and ridiculous rescue attempts, the nobleman was considered eccentric and strange, no one missed him, so footsteps, which was easily able to fill my father. During the extensive construction work, he remained in the small suburban living, where he had spent the last few years and for a small publishing house that published literature, especially the inter-war years, worked as an editor.
For all this he had far-reaching statements. For example, he was convinced that in some years a small, official of the Make too late or not discovered planet, (he called him a "brown dwarf") collide with the earth and thus large parts of all continents would be flooded. According to the more developed over the years Calculations of my father's house that fit exactly into the matrix, which, in his opinion, made a life after the great catastrophe possible. When he spoke of the great disaster that awaited mankind, and emerge from what the few survivors with a completely new awareness of things would be, he did it with the seriousness of the full conviction and always sounded a little like Barnabas or a prophet , perhaps a modern Noah. At the same time he was also a sober pragmatist, which processes are undeterred in his plan.
Before everything else, it was important to achieve a certain status of independence, self-sufficient situation where you rely on no one was. He refuses to use the connection to the local electricity network and installed large reflectors, which reached a very high efficiency even under overcast skies. The wastewater was organized through a sophisticated system of water extraction and treatment. It was the details that constitute the real highlights, at least for the neutral observer: for, in his opinion, surely, from the case of the great flood had he can be at a shipyard in the far north a versatile dinghy build your own design.
The former barn has been converted into a sort of docking station to a port, nor the surrounding water. Walden, State of the Art
held in the village most of my father for a more or less harmless nutcase, a crank who barricaded themselves behind a facade of high tech and in fact afraid of the people had. They were wrong: he had no means fear of contact, the other people and what they did and believed was he simply not care. There were just extras, they played later in his life any greater role, except that they existed alongside him. You identity remained loose contemporaries, had little cog in a gear, and this contempt he felt. No one liked him, the conversation was limited to a minimum, the Golf Club or the restaurants he was not even looking.
I call it perhaps a little disparaging the village, actually, but it is the elitist hideaway of some persons in a particularly well-paid post-ion, allows managers, industrialists, the kind of people just like purse a healthy distance from the more and more degenerating Großstadtmolochen. Some locals are there but in fact, a special shock man, taciturn, sinewy and suspicious. Mainly working them as guides, which in summer the thankless task belongs to accompany flocks of curious tourists obese and disgusting by the well-backed mountains and explain how glaciers created or what is an orogeny. They were the first to lose control.
land as against the end of the second week of the experiment, with a helicopter of the National Guard on the golf course, was called off due to heavy snow drifts, we noticed an unfamiliar to the locals for their sluggish nature of stress and nervousness. Probably it was the first unmistakable signs of the approaching apocalypse, which they, aware of the environment and its hazards, as previously all the other felt. Until well into the third week into it enhanced the fine wave of hostility, and, slowly, I realized after my telescope, that human nature is basically a very primitive dichotomy of reason is: we need, especially in extreme situations, the irreconcilable, the harsh contrast, and it was only to be able to assign to someone to blame. We look for an object that may hate us, we stylize a fetish and it increased, in principle, the inversion of the principle of God, we bring God into earthly realm and put it back on their feet, so to speak.
While I enjoyed a delicious Whiskey Sour and the way in Schopenhauer "The high art of the insult" were flipped, the bottom of the village gradually fronts, which, at first vague, hardened further and further. It does not matter who was right, or are in such a situation, solidarity and cohesion essential factors for the survival of the entire group. The down there, that was not a philosophical debating who balances within the meaning of utilitarianism interests and deliberated decisions for the collective.
Suddenly this heterogeneous group, consisting apart from nouveau riche and old-money aristocracy
Natives, it congealed into a kind of doubt it, a tacit confession, the other in some way to suspicious, and over all was the question of guilt.
Hannes was the first death, a loss I complain personally, for he was one of the few locals, by one of the few people in the village, which had got along with my father, yes, understood it in its quirkiness, even downright , perhaps because it is a little recognized work in its essence. Of which there were not many, there were never many, my father remained in mood across enemy, who spoke of "Absterbetagen" and the "original sin of the Roman decadence" and reversed all the positive signs in its opposite.
All in all, started better with the death of Hannah, his murder, the state that continues until today and I christened in honor of the good old Hobbes Behemoth. I think that it is not hunger or thirst, the one driven to madness, it is the boredom, the waiting, a very certain kind of aimlessness.
The locals were so far always used a structured day, they lived in a kind of harmony with the elements, in deep connection with the rhythm of nature around them, something that could never accept the snobs. Of course not, with their money they stamped out a golf course from scratch, from nothing, mind you, that for the local people a piece represented their home untouched, which is now just disrespectful was leveled and the scorn of the wealthy class, and for the "enjoyment of the fine gentlemen" trimmed.
The course of events in and around this valley was such that the entire area was occupied by some people with large amounts of capital, it simply looks like yet again and again, simple black and white, then he goes, the process of gentrification , but rather it actually says rather a planned invasion, acquisition, a small war, a battle of material.
the villagers Inge, of incest, and chronic anemia plagued for decades, had massaged the takeover attempt absolutely nothing to oppose. No one was on their side. Not politics, rubbing their face heavy investment in the remote district capital of the hands and on "the finally achieved international reputation," blustered, not by the press, which reproduces the designs for the planned golf course and 5 star resort on several occasions and more so in black letters final headline: "The modern age is finally Indent
Hannah told me that from the beginning, the beginning of this" malaise ", a tacit agreement between the two camps were, so to speak, a peace treaty, its terms, however, never exactly defined and negotiated were . The limits, therefore, which not even the locals call exactly was because they felt the knowledge of these limits as naturally given, not only as morally or ethically, these limits are exceeded, stable, and the traditions that had survived through the centuries in the genes of these prominent people were ruthless advance and the "demon of modernity" undermines simple. They remained unnamed, as nameless casualties of a battle, they were cremated and kicked her grave at any time with your feet.
In every gesture of city dwellers, this "early ossified invaders", as Hannah called her, was something derogatory, a little suspicious, as if the villagers were devious minds all of which could always blurt out the murder. Hannah told me once that he thought it possible that this "brush" their own arrogance in turn perceived as "natural right" and not as an affront. For she had just changed the owner, and now they do and were allowed to leave what they wanted, the "plague" as they called the locals for a glass of Bordeaux behind closed doors, they were at best Grenzdebile extras, which menial tasks could meet.
Hannah drove the only taxi in town, and before the "Ladies and gentlemen," opened the car door and bowed with an elegant curtsy, before he spat in an unguarded moment in his hands and shook them, then smiling friendly hands. He
the townspeople despised all my heart, and that this blatant homophobia, this inexpensive Misantrophie, with which he treated "the present" as he called it the "State" compelled me from the deepest respect. As with all acquisitions occurred after a certain time, something you could watch, so John, his opinion very often and he had also feared in case of his "ancestral homeland", a long time: The gradual assimilation, the Object of one's nature, one's own values. In short, Hannah called it "the funeral of one's own life world" and compared the behavior of the locals with the attending from a funeral, where you could watch but with a wry smile, but no more than pay even the out rancid food existing funeral feast, because it was loud Hannes, a "permanent Draufzahlerei. He could enjoy delicious about this overlooked fact, but if he had two or three brandies had inside them, then was out of his sheer hatred, sarcasm, and I liked him best. He was, as my father also, a passionate hunter, and that was the issue that united them. The weapons, the heavy equipment, the silent, careful stalking, the loneliness in the dark woods, the foreboding, a naïve pressed to wipe out unsuspecting creatures, the actual shooting, the clean technology of a deadly gun to his chin and shoulder, the last moment of life by the cross observing the prints, this brief moment that the judge about the life and death tickles in one, and then the bloody activities of the Auswaidens, this barbaric clerkship, cutting, boiling off, the intestines, the smells, The warm taste of blood that had to be drunk but "if you please from a tin cup," as always, as before, as before, and the like liquid rubber distributed in the stomach. Yes, that was their world, a world, which represented an interface that could have happened to my father, without even giving up without having to give something from being involved. The sense of togetherness, the death of another being, thoughts, time, space, ignoring all the life.
My father may have been an arrogant hermit, an esoteric, the verhoben mainly, but again he saw in the mass, which, in his opinion, unnecessary human material, those who he described as "grounded" and had close contact with them closely in the sense of spiritual connection, the little Words used.
In the numerous letters he wrote to me and in which he told me the natures and characters of the individuals living here and the environment. In his naturalistic language accurately described, Hannes came very often and regularly. He introduced me as "a prototype of God" before, as "a man who is nothing about his life to be only one man to stay and act as a man."
was in his anecdotes always something Awesome , an expression of respect for these people, although he the monotony, and in which they spent their life, despised, he forced the originality, its "authenticity" but respect from.
When the first javascript: void (0) had troubles after moving down in the house of my father and I, about to settle some official affairs of the death of my father, went into the city, I saw Hanna immediately, as detailed he had described it.
