Friday, April 3, 2020

Weakest link (daily newspaper young world)

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I hear it clattering much more often behind our walls. These are the bottle throwers. Well-known tones, which, in my best drinking times, I played several times a week to the delight of the residents. Alcohol is running out. Consumption is increasing. Because I don’t drink, I am something of a quiet hero in the villa, but also her weakest link. My waiver promises confidence in others. If you experience me safe every day, you will also survive the thirsty, cloudy period. I could imagine something about that, but I am content with the role model as far as possible.

We’re watching “The Maid’s Report,” after Margaret Atwood. I make comparisons to us. The locked room is the villa. The red and white institutional costume is the news that haunts our minds like straitjackets constrict. Our days are as long-winded and calm as those of the TV series, in which Atwood briefly appears as a beating overseer. This is the blow of the live virus. He’s beating us all up. All countries become the Gilead control state. We would have to rebel and subordinate to subordinate commanders whose rabbits patrol outside where the refugees live. In normal times, we would all be unlikable.

A friend celebrated her birthday alone with apple pie from the frost and a bottle of spray cream from the local supermarket. There Mecklenburg means where I come from. Not far from there is Rome as a small town near Parchim. I wanted to have something exotic like spray cream for a long time, she writes, just didn’t dare me. Now, however, as a sign of the self-protection ordered, people no longer behave squeamishly and cream is sprayed into their mouths until it oozes out of all pores. It’s never too late to dare to do it. She writes that the coals in the furnace had burned out nicely when she locked the furnace door and she looked outside at the star dome above her. Are all still there! Not a star has been devoured by the evil black hole! My gift to her? I throw myself into my little study and start writing the novel in my cell. Working title »Der Schipendiat«.

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