It’s not that I’m gonna criticize the advantages of spare time. Everybody knows how paramount it is in our society. The point is, if you take away routines (I mean, rest, work, eating, children care, cooking, nature calls, communicating, housework), all you’ve got is a couple of hours per day, maybe four if you’re lucky and woman (if you’re a man forget about completing housework easily, it always takes three more times than a female).
The concept free time is very deceitful. You think you can do whatever you want, but, on second thoughts, your choice is overwhelmingly restricted. Try to be alone in the outside. Either you look for a deep enough long-lost cave or a steep mountain where, if it’s under x metres, you are not allowed to camp. Living in the wild is also forbidden. Everything is somebody’s and you can’t take, sleep on, use or eat it. To make love, do sports, take drugs, draw graffiti, be naked, swim, smoke or drink spirits you need your own gold-paid tight flat or a specific space-for building. Some of them can’t even be done in the street. Have you ever tried to go jogging nude when smoking a joint? What about every teenager’s ultimate dream nowadays: Having sexual intercourse at the same time as drinking a vodka with lemon without paying for room or pub fare?
Of course some laws and precepts are here to prevent everybody’s rights and blah, blah, blah, with liberty and justice for all, etc… That’s right, to a certain extent. Have you noticed that you must pay for everything? There are taxes on commercial products, on blank DVD’s, tobbaco, pictures, raw materials, manufactures. If you earn money you have to pay for it. If you’re lucky enough to win the lottery you are to share with the State. If you get it gambling a previous part of your profits have gone to the coffers of the Government. If you decide to give it freely to your best friend or relative or a tramp you find under a built-with-your-money bridge, you are committing a crime. The procedure is to declare your donation and pay a tax for it. Otherwise you could be investigated and fined.
Suppose your granny has been giving you a weekly tip of € 5 since you were born. Now you’re thirty and therefore you have € 9800. The State may ask you about the origin of that illegal, black money! If you use other people’s words without quoting, this is plagiarism. Copy a music CD and you’ll be a criminal. Create a brand and give it a name, only to discover that the name is registered by someone else and you are not allowed to use it in commercial terms.
I accept civilization implies you are not burying a hatchet into your neighbour’s brain, but from that aggression to not being able to step on a relaxing prairie or tranquil orchard because they belong to a proprietor I think there are thousands of restrictions we all might not need. The definite symptom of failed capitalism is homeless. In a world where you are what you possess, they are nothing. They can’t even rest on the pavement or live. The only thing they let you do in the street is walking or staying in a bench (sitting, never sleeping). The wild nature is no longer rivers and forests. Right now the wildest sides are people’s attitude about goods and possessions. How long until the poor crowd decide to go on strike against poverty, to abolish capitalism, to hang the rich, to share equally? Maybe tirany in The Third World is a failure of underdevelopment, but bums in metropolis is a hint of the same wicked disease.
Frampton Compton undressed lazily at dawn. The patrol had been intense and exciting. It was time to send the superhero to bed and the supercostume to the washing machine. Only two hours to alarm ring. He had to decide between sleeping or having breakfast. “Bellyman” opted for resting and eliminating the body excuse for that horrible nick. The double-life man read briefly a The Mighty Avengers Marvel Comic and glimpsed a New York City postcard with the word “twilight” written on it. 
He slept on a brand new name: A vindicator...only working at night...masked hero... This was it! The Twilight Avenger. Spectacular. Sublime. Terrific. The bad guys’ lash. Like a kick in the very face. But he had to start doing some exercise: Sit-ups and push-ups. And no more cocoa cream with honey and peanut butter spread on the doughnuts. But the clock woke up both his body and his stomach. Maybe tomorrow. After dinner. Or supper.
