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Flat Lining - 21/02/2013

Yesterday we accompanied my parents to a carpet vendors establishment to ascertain the likely cost to essentially transform a miserable concrete cavern into some semblance of a residence.
My progress painting has been encouraging and swift, erasing the scars of the past in order to present a canvas upon which we can make our mark. As positive as this has been and may be, the cold bare floors presently succeed in absorbing any and all optimism that may arise within me.
The quote was higher than expected. £677 fitted. Cost of fitting was minimal in comparison to the carpets and the expenditure was therefore accepted.

As I awaited their man who would confirm my measurements, I received a call from the council. Of course, the person I spoke with was not the same as who had raised the enquiry about which they were calling. This invariably means you get a message and yet have little means to question and gain clarification, which in this instance would have been most welcome. The reason for the call concerned paperwork, specifically my youngest daughters lack of them.
I was not willing to explain that she is not registered and so lacked a certificate of birth on the grounds that in order to register an item, it is my belief and understanding that you have to be the owner of the chattel property you intend to register.
It is not only illegal, but unlawful to claim ownership of a human being.
That fact supersedes the secondary implications that anything you register ceases to be your own, with you accepting usury title only of the asset in return for some form of service or protection. I view myself as capable of caring for, and protecting my child, and so lack the need to outsource such to another entity, namely the State.

I'm fairly certain had I relayed the above to the lady on the phone she would've gone cross eyed and thought me very peculiar.

Still, for a time it looked as though all that I had strived for would once again be snatched away. I can't say I was too upset at the prospect, as it prompted my partner and I to evaluate alternatives, nearly all of which were vastly more attractive to me than living in a flat!

I prefer not to jump to conclusions and make rash judgements as often one is proved wrong and finds the worry and upset was unfounded. I reminded my lady love that we must see what tomorrow would bring, be they answers or yet more questions.

I was correct in my approach for when I visited the council this morning I was told all was in order... Again I was relieved and disappointed in equal measure.

Now of the belief moving in was again full steam ahead, I returned to the flat and threw myself back into painting. By the time I was done, I was in a very dark place indeed and I don't mean the bottom of the stairwell.

Perhaps it was the paint fumes (which is depressing in and of itself when one considers the poisons now present in what is destined to be our home) as I found my thoughts, feelings and conclusions took a most unpleasant turn. As I brushed a layer of undercoat on a window sill, it hit me that we have almost now come completely full circle from the life we set out to escape 3 years ago. An existence that was so devoid of fulfilment and meaning it had me miserable to the degree that I frequently thought of, and had once attempted to commit, suicide. Since our 'break', I have not been haunted by such hopeless and morbid imaginations.

It occurred to me that I was brushing that paint not for me, but for the family I would leave behind.
But in what manner would they be left? Was I to return to fix up, and continue to live in, the caravan somewhere in some woods without them? The idea was repulsive, and yet preferable to the other considered avenue.
With heart rendering sadness I imagined that once satisfied they were settled and I knew their needs would be met, I would slip out, back to the woods to die amongst the trees that until recently showed me what life really is and how satisfying it could be.
The notion was attractive for how poetic it seemed. The same site where I had lived on my own terms, I would die on my own terms. For there I was required, an important and pivotal member of a family unit who was relied upon for food, warmth and shelter. But no longer. The society man and his money has created here in the West has diminished the male to such an extent he is more of a bonus than a requirement. Indeed, I believe that single mothers are more the norm simply because it is more possible with all the State provides than ever before.

I set out to demonstrate how a man could lead his family, with next to no money, to live a life with the kinds of freedoms and pleasures enjoyed by the elite and wealthy. I succeeded, in a manner, for a time. But not long enough.
The day we move into that flat sounds the death knell to that venture. Tolls the bell of defeat. Signals the demise of a dream once made manifest.

Therein lies my quandary, my angst and my pain. I sought an existence that allowed my family to be together, nay demanded it, when society appears to increasingly create division and separation. Mothers and Fathers working forty hours a week converting labour to currency whilst children attend school in order to be indoctrinated and programmed in the ways of following their sires into the workplace and away from those they love. Families snatching little more than 48 of the 168 hours in a week to be together, and even then few can find enough minutes to enjoy meaningful time in each others company.
Fathers reach retirement and exclaim their sons and daughters grew up so quickly, the hearts in their tired old breasts full of pain and regret at the opportunity those hours presented, now long gone.

The torture of my observations has startled me. Being philosophical about such dilemmas once came so easily to me, but alas, it would appear that being 'enlightened' is much easier when one is happy and content within the borders and boundaries of ones own comfort zone.
The true test of ones presence and consciousness begins when flung into the depths of the souls darkest recess.
I truly fear that this time, I will fail to bring forward the light to burn away the darkness as it engulfs my spirit and ultimately extinguishes this sputtering flame of life.

"De profundis clamo ad te domine"

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