What has been, what is, and what will be.

Dear Diary,

Tonight was tough at that... place, among those... people.

If I am honest, I've had quite enough of these... people. I admit, I could have handled things better this evening. It was Friday night, and things were very busy. There was one point when the bosses (the younger thug and the girl he's banging) left to go for a break. Orders came in, and I tried to do what I could to help the orders go through more smoothly and quickly. Naturally, my seventeen year old 'boss' (who is only in such a position because her sister is shagging the younger brute that runs the place) immediately stopped me from doing so. This young lady takes a very long time to make a single order. I pointed out to her that I first began working in this industry in 1996, some dozen years before she was even born. None of this matters. Her sister, her brother, the people they're sleeping with or related to run this place (it's a family thing). I admit, I made quite a scene. It doesn't actually matter. I could quit, today, and still have enough resources to tide me over until my next royalty cheque comes in. (That is, if I got my s- together and actually published my present translations and plays). I just don't care any more. I've seen these people very sick with the neo-plague (Covid), and I risk my own life on a daily basis, among these... people. They all take the piss out of me, and hate the fact that I was doing what they're doing now a dozen years before they were even born. They are resentful, jealous, petty people, not philosophers.

It's actually pretty cool, I don't really mind what happens. The boss (the older of the two thugs, only just thirty, scarcely out of the trees...) once said to me, "Fucking 'master'" on the very day that I was conferred with the honours of a Magister Artium in classical studies. This vexed me, severely. I told him (and all there abouts) that it took me twelve years of studying to attain that qualification, that it is the same subject Boris Johnson (Alexander Pfeffel) learnt at University: not making burgers, not mopping floors, not washing pots. Latin is a tradition which is not exactly unknown to the world. Ancient Greek even more so.

In short, I've had enough of their cross eyed inbred bullshit. It's a clique. Would my time be better spent slaving for these ungrateful sons o' bitches, or, focusing on my literary career? Chairlady Mao has recently offered me more work. I have a back log of work from the old ball and chain. And more important than both of them, I still have my own publications to publish. Like the Steely Dan song says, "I'm a fool to do your dirty work". It's all bullshit. (After all, holding a master's degree in Classical Latin means fuck all in Dark Age Britain. This is not Elizabethan England, evidently). I would do well to work from home, and distance myself from these gypsies, carnies, circus folk: uneducated, unphilosophical and most certainly impolite and unmindful 'people' (if they can be called such, without the ability to reason). In short, they are plague ridden and beneath my consideration (but only because they are not mindful or considerate themselves).

Max.