You asked me how I am in theses days. I asked myself. – If I would work in an office, you could investigate my desk resting in patient peacefulness, no post-its yelling, no silly sounds reminding me to follow the schedule, not the alarm clock at 8 a.m., by the fact I am mostly already awake, lying freezing in pale plankets, in the white corner of the apart from that colourful bedroom, asking myself how this feels, how life feels… you have got me stumped, stomped into the financial consequences of a life of pleasure and privileges. I need money. Now. You need work to produce money. This makes good copy for the map of the next adventure. Lying there freezed in a white morning light and not worrying at all, scares me. If I would work in an office I wouldn´t be here. If I will ever work again in an office I work to transfer, because I crave to move. The value of work, as a matter of status and acknowledgment and social reputation, has left the conveyor, through the gates of slumber. Work produces slaves. I am not a person of hope, but now I need you, let me hope that I never have to go back in this, broken, stooping, obeying and ready to serve, the master of our monoverse: work. We work so we hope. Because we work we hope. Stability. Worthy survival. In tow a bunch of cans, preserving dreams, ready to open and breathe life into. A friend told me, life is as simple as you make it. What a quote, I know. Dripping wrongness. Simplicity. The grail! All what is, the one and only, help us in our home-made multi-dependency. When did all this get so multitudinous. So I am lying early morning in my bed. Through the open windowlessness secured by some dutiful rusty bars, a cool lasting breath sails through white foamy curtains. Swarms of moskitos, seagulls, in weighing. The planks of the wooden apartment, second floor, yawning, like the exhaustion of a ceasing storm. And I feel like a boy, in this wonderful green suffused ship, with bats starboard, rats and cats up in the crow´s nest, a spacious empty stockroom, knives and a white russian keeping my memories warm, a cabin and from there on a ladder on deck, the roof terrace, surrounded tight by saber-sharp cordoned palm crowns. So is it possible to survive in a system, meaning take the advantages and never touch the sterile ground. I wanna keep my cans of dreams rattling. I don´t need a lot. Nothing necessary what I wouldn´t miss, nothing unneccessary pissing me off, its need for attention to bracket the justification of its purchase. When you look close and precisely on the world, we all belief in – in one or the other way, you find only your imagination in the reflected letdown. I don´t want to let me down by leaving my boy alone, because of a frustrating reflection. So life is simple when it comes down to the basic needs, but then you don´t make it, I mean – it, anything. To make your life easy, make yourself comfortable, doable and acceptable to sustain living, to endure the force of adapting, to seek a comfortable and manageable unsure period of time, tolerated and monitored, wherever you hide, hobo, we have to feel individual and superfuckingspecial to take the efforts and debasement. This is why today there are so many dropouts wandering around, they couldn´t stand the individualism anymore. They have to find each other again. Or they have to put themselves together, recruit, like a puzzle, like one of these games for kids, with different geometrical profiles, which have to be stick through the suitable press cut in a specific mostly wooden, even I have seen it knitted as well, pattern, included in the package. If it doesn´t match, there is always the not included hammer solution. Like we all tried, once, most of us. Sort your ways. But follow in line with the pattern. Moving outside of the pattern, in the bohemian outskirts, loaded with all kinds of madness, the hunger for more hammers is capable of. Desiring to carve their own images of the undescribable, of the world we can not see, because we are the frustrated reflection. The outskirts, to where we are sailing now with our yawning ship, is exactly a guarantee section, some original parts have been replaced, some profiles polished with a drop of saleable sophistication and we believe in whom we have redemption, kids playing and teaching kids how to play. May the shit we eat serve us well. So how do I feel. A bit angry now. A whole strong of intrigues against us, supervised by formalism. Less simple than a man with a hammer. – So I guess I have to work someday again. I don´t mind. I don´t mind hard work as far as it doesn´t serve me more than necessary.
So according to the interview and the question how I feel, I choose the answer C, “We are ok, but not more.”
