I expected Dr. Walsh to be worse for wear, but upon seeing him he was lively, good company, and upon the surface at least there is no discernable trace of his neurological condition which renders him immobile. We had a few jars, discussed philosophy and theology, and it was an amicable catch up. He expressed interest in attending the literary festival this year, which may perhaps be a possibility, maybe. I have, at least, been granted a week off during this period by those... people.
The luthier came round and we had a jam, and even recorded some of it, which was awesome.
Chairlady Mao offered me an assignment this morning. Whoever had edited it before had done a hatchet job of it and I was left to clean up the mess. I made the deadline with a slender ten minutes to spare. It was a frivolous assignment, some silly research paper by a media studies student. I do find it interesting how the author of whatever subject it is I mark, seems to imagine that their particular academic specialism is absolutely essential to the running of their country. It doesn't matter whether it is hand-crafted bamboo woodworks, or AI, or (in today's case) the use of television programmes and educational films in schools. This is, even if what is written is demonstrably false (such as the creator of neural networks [mistakenly] believing that they are somehow 'conscious', or as in today's assignment: the use of watching T.V. being deemed more useful to students than actually reading books!). Yet these are the Dark Ages, so the premises of such syllogisms need not contain truths, but only require to follow one after another. In a way it's good: let the Chinese believe that computers are self aware and that television programmes contain more knowledge than actually bothering to read the sources in their original languages.
The old ball and chain reached out and we patched things up. I am, however, having second thoughts about being brought back into the fold already. I cannot justify creating and teaching an entire module only to hand over a fifth of the profits, then have those themselves taxed the same amount, and be left with some miserable pittance for performing the Herculean task of designing, writing then teaching a module, or even several modules. Their overheads are very slight (between $150-300 per annum is the cost to host a website from the particular provider they have chosen), so I find it very difficult to justify handing over a fifth of any profits made. For what? For love of queen and country? (A most admirable and worthwhile cause if ever there were one, sincerely). Alas no.
Moreover, without consulting me (and I was the one that came up with the name of this 'school' - if it can be called such, for it is not leastways official and no member of staff - except one - actually holds the necessary qualifications to be able to teach at that level) they changed the name of the school. Unfortunately, without any of them being classicists, these people did not realise that they have chosen a name which is identical to the most venerable and well established classical studies database on the web. Therefore if anyone types in the name of their 'school', it will be jumbled up with this website itself (which is part of Tufts University in the United States of America), a myriad posts discussing this particular website and more than that, a wealth of Greek mythological websites. I can see why they have chosen this particular name, because of Clash of the Titans, that old 70s movie. Yet there is actually no real hermetic allegory there (at least, not in the ancient world: I suspect that some of the Renaissance hermeticists may - or may not - have used it, but my specialism being classical studies means I am much more well versed in the actual ancient sources themselves than any Reception Studies).
In any case, my ranting aside, the 'school' is more about personal development than it is about formal schooling (evidently). Some of the people there do actually have a great deal of knowledge above and beyond the ordinary level (knowledge which is either disregarded by many academics - because it is not substantive or tactile - or kept secret, for a jolly good reason). Speaking of which, this is the reason why I left in the first place. The group is small, less than a dozen people, and yet the old ball and chain wanted to make a group within a group, a secret group, in which the others were not to know about any and all things pertaining to the working and running of the school. If it were me running it, I would have insisted that we each contribute to the hosting fee of the site (which would amount to just over 10 bucks each or so a year) then give all the lecturers 100% of any profits they make. It's not like we have to pay the cleaning lady or subscribe to exclusive academic databases. Yet the old ball and chain did precisely what I expected her to do: take the money. And who wouldn't? Well, me, of course. (I am being completely serious). It is for this reason that I continue to focus on what is most useful, most expedient, and what will actually garner real results, rather than slaving away for bugger all, as I have been doing, as I will continue to do - that is, unless I take action.
I certainly can't rely on the British Academic Establishment to make good on their word. They have no honour. This is Dark Age Britain. One does not spend twelve years studying at university only to end up in a good job which is directly relevant to what you spent twelve years studying. That's not the way things are done here. It is not a civilised country. The place is run by thugs, clowns and crooks, for the benefit of other thugs, clowns and crooks. That's just the way things are, no two ways about it (based upon the evidence).
Tomorrow there is some street festival. The luthier wants to busk it. If I'm honest, I could use the money (for I have spent all I earned so far this month already, and Chairlady Mao's gig amounts to $8, which will be about £5 once PayPal takes its cut and the exchange rate cuts it to ribbons). Yet the reason I work is so that I don't have to go begging ('busking'). I am not enthused about it, at all. Moreover, it will be too rowdy, too crowded tomorrow. All the other acts are being paid to be there, and don't have to beg, so why should I be the only one there with my cap in hand?
Stalin wasn't at home yesterday (a very rare occurrence indeed). As a result, the extremely precious parcel of long since out of print university level commentaries did not arrive (some tragedies by Euripides and a couple of plays by Aristophanes). I should have stayed at home, had I wanted to receive it, but what fun would that have been on my one day off a week? According to the bookseller, the parcel is being held in Basingstoke (some hundred miles to the east of where I live, and the book came from the north and west of where I live!). This is surely Dark Age Britain. Imagine, if I were a courier in the ancient world, on horseback, or even a hobo nowadays with a message for a friend. I would certainly not walk 100 miles in the completely opposite direction to deliver the message. Yet this is not Elizabethan England. Messages are not sent by the most direct route. Here, in Dark Age Britain, parcels are sent hundreds of miles in the complete opposite direction in order to be delivered. One wonders why this is so, yet you know the answer, dearest diary, don't you? Because these are the Dark Ages, and will be remembered as such.
Max.
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