it is an interesting aspect of today´s world that one is confronted daily – and especially, it seems, in the western world – with a seemingly everlasting scarcity of time. time is a commodity, the great economist schumpeter taught, and to have it is nearly worth the same amount that one could buy with gold. it is usually other peoples time that is to be bought, working hours define themselves through the clock (a triviality, perhaps) and we have obviously to get used to the fact, that the people commonly known as friends give theirs freely, if they can spare it. the time one wastes together is called free time, or „freizeit“ in german, and it is still a word with some astounding capabilities: it transforms minutes into hours, it gives the poor slaves of the ticking clocks or on their computer screens something to muse about, it allows our families traditions and wellbeing to flower – and it is, in my opinion, one of the great gifts of humanity.

let it be remembered that during industrialisation in grate britain and on the continent, it was for the first time that time became important for the production process. before that, as the german novel „die entdeckung der langsamkeit“ by sten nadolny put it, people worked by their churches clocks, usually facing in one direction over the settlement. it ordered their lives, as did daylight and the seasons. i had a schoolmate named dietmar mueller, who, i hear, is now a doctor in the field of eastern studies, who transfixed me with his narrations that in his hometown in roumania, not far from transsylvania indeed (there were german pocket populations there bought out of communism by the german government in 1980-90), he was ordered by his mother to be back from playing soccer „to the second sound of the church six o´clock“ – a rule he better complied with, lest his dinner would be gone.

big ben – and what time was it?

in an essay on the middle ages by sir betrand russell i recall a passage about the boredom a modern person would feel facing the indefinite time span that people had to endure during winter in their cottages till the end of the 19th century – they basically sat around a fireplace, doing handiworks and tending their lifestock in peace, if there was peace: tradition has it, that this is the reason for the development of the watchmaking industry in switzerland – the passes were impassable, the men had something to do and could sell their precious timepieces later to travelling salesmen, who would pay well at the first voyages over the glaciers once the ice thawed.

it is with some disappointment though that i seem to experience in my closest circles not suddenly but on a greater scale the appearance of a shere lack of time. it seems the more expensive the watches and brands get that my friends are able to afford, the more money they can put into their wrists adornment, the less they can spend on their private lives – a vicious circle, perhaps, but one hopefully to be broken through, if one wants it.

it is a high goal to spend one´s „leisure and contentment“, as the father of five daughters so far-sightedly put it in „pride and prejudice“ by jane austen nearly two hundred years ago, in spending as much money as possible on it. expensive hobbies, luxury journeys and long stays in five star hotels have a high appeal and are a mainstay in the dreams of the middle class. so it is very astounding that a general richness in free time in daily life is nearly seen as a sin, a crime against society, an offence in the face of the hard-working and stressed. to have „stress“ is the all-excusing, all-encompassing statement of the day. either the bosses cause it, or competition, or society itself. it is the final elevation to knighthood, the touch with the royal sabre – and the lack of it? the final coup-de-grace.

to not have stress and to have plenty of time borders nowadays on a crime against good taste. since i am, as a writer, in the possession of both – nearly no stress (apart from reading and talking to informants) and, on the surface, a treasure of free days, i find myself confronted with most curious reactions. recently, i stayed in the lobby of the atlantic hotel, and being of outgoing nature i came back for some days, having wonderful lunch and receiving friends. when on the last day i was there till the late afternoon, idling away, calling editors and basically coming up with new themes, minding my own business, an astounding high brass with imposing mustache approached me rather directly and inquired what i would do – since i obviously was not a guest with a room in the house (why should i, i live nearby and keep a library) i instantly and evidently became a suspicious character.

once upon a time not so long ago i would just have been a young man with a considerable fortune, whiling away my days. suddenly, in present day germany, i am a lazy fool, a dust-speck on his fauteuils, a nuisance through my being there. pointing out that i could hardly contain my astonishment at these latest developments and that i was consuming (and not to little, since even a cup of tea costs you dearly there), he answered that i had been seen as making ample conversation with whoever came by. „for what, pray, are lobbies for“ i asked – and left a bit bewildered. i doubt that my grandmother would have understood the new policy of the house, but i will assure you that she will not wish to stay there on her next visit to hamburg – my family is very sensitive on whom our money is spent, and surely not under the roof of such new habits.

i just come from a meeting with another journalist, whom i consider one of my dearest and most intelligent acquaintances. having called him on short notice, i did not expect much and indeed at his request carried a pint of milk to his place, to have coffee. i found him in the presence of another friend, who had a legal problem and was seeking advice. and at once i understood that there would not be a quiet minute with my friend as i had hoped. i was invited to lunch with them in a little potato-kitchen, which was funny enough. but i had hoped, i am sorry to say, for something else: some quality time with him, an hour perhaps or two, since his relationship with a really enchanting girl is taking up most of his time, and understandably so. not having one at the moment i might perhaps be a bit bitter and i try to balance my little feelings of dismay about it. it might be that i suffer from a mild form of envy. but i was not in the least prepared to the fact that after lunch and a coffee he turned out to be very busy indeed and not able to spend any more precious minutes with me. by merely pointing the fact out in perhaps too reproachful a tone he lectured me on my ongoing habit of expecting too much of him. and it might well be true, i expected a bit more.

so i have to be self-critical perhaps and more forgiving for a phenomenon that is all-pervading and everywhere. i take for granted an amount of shere time that is hard to get by as my friends get older and settle into their bourgouis existences, their stable relationships, and there is only one solution: to be even more of a friend, to forget about great expectations, to comply with their wishes.

to adhere to their common sense and belief. to pray to their religion. to secede from my habits. to accept the reality. to perhaps write even more, if time allows it still.

do accept my apologies. so sorry. dear reader, i might have wasted your time. and mine.

Comments:

Daniel Schoeps, Wednesday, October 19, 2005, 13:51
Lieber Lord Darlington!

Ja, ja die Zeit.
Der Kunst ihre Zeit und der Zeit ihre Kunst und wo bleiben die Menschen darin?
Ist dies nicht die wahre „Ausweitung der Kampfzone“? Als Freelancer bedarf es nicht nur eines ausgewogenen Kunden-Portfolios, nein: auch im Privaten scheint dies ratsam zu sein. Die alte lutherische Rege lautet hier: acht Stunden Arbeit, acht Stunden Schlaf, acht Stunden für den Rest.
Nun, in diesem Essay scheint der Rest der entscheidende Punkt zu sein.
Ich bin aufrichtig: es ist schwierig, den Rest gleichmässig zu werten. Denn auch dort werden Anforderungen gestellt. Unterschiedlichster Natur. Oft erscheint die eine Möglichkeit, den Rest zu verbringen zu anstrengend. Zu besetzend. Zu wenig entpannend. Sind wir wirklich alle schon so weit?
Ist das die Ausweitung der kapitalistischen Kampfzone? Seit Houellebeque wissen wir leider, daß Sex eine Ware ist wie Duschgel, Ferrari oder wir selbst, als Anbieter spezifischer Arbeitsleistungen …

Daniel Schoeps, Wednesday, October 19, 2005, 13:51
… Ist qualitiy time mit Freunden eine Ware? Und wer bestimmt Angebot und Nachfrage? Wer profitiert? Und was hat das alles mit alten Freundschaftsidealen zu tun? Was hätte Schiller dazu gesagt? Und was Nietzsche?
Ist die Frage doch älter als Manchester?
Ein Gedanke sei erlaubt: Ist es nicht so, daß die Dinge, die wir am meisten wollen, oft gerade deshalb nicht eintreten? Nicht passieren?
Sei es die junge Dame, die zu verführen man sich anschickt. Auch dort führt Subtilität und sanfte Umschreibung oft eher zum gewünschten Ziel, als forsche Einforderung. (Dieses Bild gilt selbstverständlich auch und gerade für junge Herren.)
Ich denke, die wichtigsten Eigenschafen sind auch und gerade hier: Empathie – das Wissen um die Verpflichtungen und Belange des gegenüber. Langmut – denn immerhin ist jede andere Mensch immer ein anderer Mensch und bleibt dies auch. Man ist mit sich stets allein und das geht jedem so. Und selbstverständlich abschliessend die richtige Balance zwischen Subtilität und Forderung, die in jeder menschlichen Beziehung von Wert notwendig ist, mit anderen Worten: ab und zu müssen wohl beide Beteiligten mal wieder die duftende Wäschen hervorholen, um sich gegenseitig wieder an den Wert des anderen zu erinnern, ab und zu reicht auch ein harmonisches Schweigen vor dem Fernseher.

In diesem Sinne,

Yours.

lord darlington, Wednesday, October 19, 2005, 20:07
oh, come on, silly boy. do you doubt my intentions? is it not true that you are juggling the most, running about and of course think all the time that you are the latest authority on every issue? as much as i love you, i am not sure who of us both has to deflate his ego the most. and first.

since we have spent everything, the last we can afford is paying compliments.

Daniel Schoeps, Thursday, October 20, 2005, 18:16
Hoheit!
Bin doch sehr überrascht ob der Wortwahl und Explosivität der Replik. Wie immer scheinen mir auch hier die Zwischentöne das Schlaueste. Höre ich schon welche?
Ich bleibe aufmerksam.
d.

lord darlington, Thursday, October 20, 2005, 18:32
Sir!

ich hab doch schon alles begraben. vielleicht liegt der fehler ja auch bei mir. vielleicht gibt es auch gar keinen fehler. und wahrscheinlich ist es auch gut, wie mein vater einst so richtig sagte: „wer, wenn nicht freunde oder kinder, können einem die wahrheit sagen?“

dennoch würde ich gerne mal wieder mit dir einen tag lang in den tag hineinleben. ich bin zwar keine rockband, sehe nicht so gut aus wie jakob, bin, klar, besser im bett als deine freundin, aber das ist dir ja egal, kicher. und jemanden netteren als dich lerne ich bestimmt nicht so schnell kennen. du bist auch kein berechnendes arschloch – aber ich bewundere immer wieder, wie macho-mässig du dich durchzusetzen vermagst. das kann ich eben nicht, glaube ich.

übrigens: ich fühle mich wirklich seit jahren nirgends so richtig zu hauses, auch zu hause tat ich es nicht. dann bin ich eben der ewige dandy. tant pis! love, darlington.

ps: read the new entry on razors. you should be delighted! i´ll put this online as comment, shall i?

Daniel Schoeps, Friday, October 21, 2005, 11:24
Eure Lordschaft!
Vielen Dank fürs Einlenken. Fühle ich mich auch immer besser mit. Und natürlich sehe ich die Einsamkeit bei dir und die Tatsache, kein Zuhause zu haben. Kann das eben auch nicht heilen, nur ab und an lindern, je nach Tagesform und in erster Linie bist du natürlich mein kurioscooler Freund Harald, mit dem man perfekt ganze Tage in prästabiler Harmonie verbringen kann und will. Mögen sich die Verhältnisse in-, wie auswendig bald zum Guten drehen. Und natürlich ist auch meine temporäre Doppelbelastung ( Freund und/oder therapeutischer Begleiter) in diesem Zusammenhang nicht ohne. Also: Ja. Zu allem.
Heute kriegt die blonde Frau, die uns die Zeit stiehlt, zwei Weisheitszähne gezogen und ich muss den ganzen Tag bei Johnson& Johnson anschaffen ( übrigens: komm vorbei?!?) . Nur so viel zur Terminlage. Aber der nächste freie Tag gehört uns. Dir. Mir.
Love
d.