Macro and Micro-politics

Ten days to take-off. We have received some assistance with the military hardware from our American adversaries. Our weapon of choice - the 1944 Furtwängler Eroica - just landed with a thump in the hall of my shared flat in Clapton, London; kindly shipped with a tiny bag of fruit gum from CD Universe in Wallingford, USA. This even though I’ve been told that an agency called the 'US Munitions List' keeps tight control of the export of military articles, services, and related technologies. Not a good omen regarding the effort to stem the spread of WMDs. – All these open democratic societies, oh dear.

I’ve managed to scrape together approximately £11.000 for the operation which is a far cry from what I hoped for. This means that the success on the battlefield – or to be more precise: the battle waters - is not entirely in our own hands. We thus depend on blessed constellations of the planets and our ability to persuade and mobilize former colonial subjects on Jamaica to take part in this new, great European adventure. But again – as with the unexpected help on the weapons front – I revel in the symbolism of the fact that the cheque was issued from a branch of The Bank of New York. There’s globalization for you.

I’m sitting here in Clapton tapping away on my laptop, getting more than tipsy assisted by a six-pack of Stellas, trying to focus on the macropolitical issues at hand - rather unsuccessful, I fear. By now, I tend to lapse into the micropolitics of women and the urge to become a normal, proper human being. Who’s to blame? George Herwegh, of course! He was the treacherous one that abandoned all ideals, friendship and honour, to pursue and dazzle Natalie.