Chicken

I chickened out.
Becoming a landowner shall remain a dream I guess. From this moment on Clinamen22 is defined as the imaginary dwelling place where Clinamen23 is produced.
As much as I intended to buy my own house, my financial conditions gave me only very few possibilities. The house in Mouscron I intended to buy had only one positive point: the fact that I could allow myself to buy it. Barely. As a location in a city, in region I do not know, far away both from my current social circle and my current job, with the prospectives of surviving a hard winter with my cats, in a house without gas nor water, hoping that my furniture and books survive the cold and moistness, and with my hopeless inability to connect to money and material possession, with me having no money put aside, I only kept it going because of my chronical stubborness.
Every day last week I got new information concerning extra expenses to manage to make that house liveable - just the basics, no finishing. Finally an expert from the mortgage agency phoned me mentioning a prize much higher than what I can afford to lent. I should have needed about 9000 euros in two years time, above the mortgage, to pay for all expenses. Seems that's a lot more than I thought in my naivity in buying and renovating a building.
I've called the whole shit off. I guess I haven't slept much since the beginning of August when I signed the first papers. I feel like a Leviathan coming off my shoulders.

Now it's back to square one, about 40 days left to find something to rent. And a probable rest-of-life of renting and licking landlord's boots. Maybe?

Clinamen22

I have been searching for a new home for months. The rents have gone skyrocketing, I feared the worst. Seems like I'll manage to move after all. If all goes well I'll become the owner of a small house with a garden in Mouscron, just passed the Flemish language border in Wallonia, a few kilometres from France as well. Finally I too shall enjoy the bourgeois angst of living with a mortgage for probably the rest of my life.
As this blog has the name 'Clinamen23' I'll call my house 'Clinamen22' since it bears number 22. The original Collège de 'Pataphysique had its HQ in founder Anne de Latis' villa Clinamen in France. It seems this building still exists, but it was sold a few years ago and the 'Organon Exécutif' was moved to another location. Maybe one day I'll start my own spin-off of the Collège; the 'Vlaams Patafysisch Instituut' has become awfully quiet. To keep up with the mystery of 23, number 23 should be on the other side of the street but there's only an empty space with grass and trees there - it goes directly from number 15 to number 31 a bit further up the road.
It will take me more work than I can even imagine to even make it a place to live in. No water, no gas, the electricity needs to be adjusted, no floor, just a fireplace as heating system… but given enough 'pataphysics, kaballah and maybe logic I'll pull through what I hope shall be a mild winter. It shall become extremely calm on this blog. Next year in March I hope to broadcast Clinamen 23 right from Clinamen 22!