Time to think, gettin' it done, irons in the fire (it'll work out fine)

Dear Diary,

I’ve had little time to myself recently. I’ve been studying a lot, so much that I get burnt out and have to lie down for a while, then up and at ‘em as soon as I awake. I remember once that there was some psychological phenomenon which is the reason that my alma mater structures lectures within a particular time-frame. I don’t really understand it (because I’m not a psychology major) but from what I have heard, the upshot is that study sessions are structured in 40-45 segments, with a 15 minute break in between the two. I remember on the Magister Artium another student had problems focusing, getting stressed out with the sheer workload of writing his dissertation, so he adopted this framework, and instead of pushing, and pushing, and pushing, until you burn yourself out, he took breaks every 40-45 minutes or so, and it meant he actually got more work done (strangely).

Up until recently, I have taken this same approach to study as I take to work (keep pushing, keep pushing, no breaks, except maybe one five minute break). This is not doable. It is better, far better, to approach tasks with a clear mind, well rested, focused, so you can apply yourself fully to the job at hand without feeling constantly fatigued and worn out.

Hades is still a pain in the backside, but I’m handling it, just about. Taking orders from gossiping, uncouth teenagers (subductisupercilicarptores) is wearing pretty thin. Today, however, some translation company finally got back to me, after a month. They want me to work freelance (self-employed) which I am not actually that okay with. Sure, if I had my own company, or worked as a barrister, that would be fine, but not (necessarily) for some little translation company. There’s no job security, and very few workers’ rights, as Uber found out (the hard way…) with their employees. Still, I might take it, maybe. It seems pretty rich, this company taking a month to get back to me, and then expecting me to complete a number of really quite taxing tests within the space of an hour or so, and then maybe move on to tests which have to do with translation. To me, if I hire another musician, the music comes first, their ability to play well. Likewise, if I am doing translation work, the translation comes first, and all other abilities are secondary to this. That’s a little difficult for this firm to understand (and Britain in general). To be a musician, one has to be able to not only play a musical instrument, but play it well. To be a translator, one has to not only be able to translate, but translate well. Call me old fashioned, but this is the way I do things. I feel I will do quite well with my own firm.

The law course is still looming, and I made some progress with that today. I have a few irons in the fire. My latest little one (inspired by a friend of mine that I had a video call with late last night) is getting back to my roots. The reasons I went to university in the first place (and this is being honest), are three: (1) to prove to the (late, great) savant Didier Deman that the British won the Battle of Waterloo in 1815. (2) Failing that, to become a lecturer in ancient history (inspired by my - gorgeous - ex-girlfriend Fanny, that said, “You would make a great history teacher.”). (3) When asked at my first lecture why I was there, I answered honestly: to acquire the knowledge I need to make games. I actually have had to ween myself off playing games (particularly Empire: TW) and instead dedicate myself to studying. However, all work and no play makes Jack a dull boy, and the gaming industry makes the classical studies business look like David compared to Goliath. Very many more people are interested in playing frivolous games than are interested in seriously studying. So, I have begun designing a game which is magical in nature. It draws from a variety of different other past experiences gaming, and combines my knowledge of hermetic philosophy, history, mythology, magic, folk-lore and much else besides. The only thing I’m missing is artwork. I put an advertisement on some artists’ website today and received a response from a reasonable artist (in terms of both rates and ability). At this particular juncture in history, AI art is fantastic, but I actually prefer people to machines.

Anyway, that’s just little games, and although - in truth - will probably generate a lot more revenue in the business, it is not where my heart is: my heart is - and always will be - in Latin literature, everything from the Biblia Sacra Vulgata to the writings of the great Latin masters: Virgil, Ovid, Propertius, Tibullus, Juvenal, Plautus, Martial, Cicero, Terence, Ammianus Marcellinus, Macrobius, Manilius, and many many more (this is not even mentioning many of the great medieval Latin authors). Libelli Classics is nearly at the point of lift off, and although it has been at this ‘future participle’ point (id est ‘on the point of being, very nearly about to happen’) for a long while now, in two weeks I will have the source code I need to publish my first book (courtesy of that colleague at work). As an aside, I also write a lot of poetry, and I am reading the phenomenal Milton at the moment. There is such a nice passage in his Paradise Lost which I will share with you now.

…so lovely fair,
that what seemed fair in all the world, seemed now
mean, or in her summed up, in her contained
and in her looks; which from that time infused
sweetness into my heart, unfelt before,
and into all things from her air inspired
the spirit of love and amorous delight.
She disappeared, and left me dark; I waked
to find her, or for ever to deplore
her loss, and other pleasures all abjure:
when out of hope, behold her, not far off,
such as I saw her in my dream, adorned
with what all Earth or Heaven could bestow
to make her amiable: On she came,
led by her heavenly Maker, though unseen,
and guided by his voice; nor uninformed
of nuptial sanctity, and marriage rites:
Grace was in all her steps, Heaven in her eye,
in every gesture dignity and love.
I, overjoyed, could not forbear aloud.
This turn hath made amends; thou hast fulfilled
thy words, Creator bounteous and benign,
giver of all things fair! but fairest this
of all thy gifts! nor enviest. I now see
bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh, myself
before me: Woman is her name; of Man
extracted: for this cause he shall forego
father and mother, and to his wife adhere;
and they shall be one flesh, one heart, one soul.
She heard me thus; and though divinely brought,
yet innocence, and virgin modesty,
her virtue, and the conscience of her worth,
that would be wooed, and not unsought be won,
not obvious, not obtrusive, but, retired,
the more desirable; or, to say all,
Nature herself, though pure of sinful thought…

John Milton, Paradise Lost (Book 8, lines 471-506).

Sortition - a threat to democracy?

Dear Diary,

While studying this law course at university, we were presented with a TED lecture which argues for sortition. This is essentially a random selection process for a nation's ruler(s). When I was quite young, and certainly uneducated, I gravitated towards this same idea, calling it a 'randomocracy'. While seemingly appealing on the face of it, once one delves further into this idea, it is actually a very dangerous proposition. Let us examine my own household.

Let us suppose that either of my housemates were to be randomly selected as the nation's leader. In the first case: Euclio. We played some silly board game in which we were supposed to run a country together. Euclio, instead of helping the team as best he could (as everyone else did), did all he could to consolidate his own personal power base, accrue as much money as he could, and scuppered any bills passed by the others, simply to cast the cat among the pigeons. Imagine if Euclio were chosen at random to be Britain's Prime Minister. Wars would be started on a whim. There would be much more corruption. Euclio would act in the same way, leaving the nation to hang, while he creamed off as much money as possible. The nation would very soon be paralysed, starving, without electricity and most likely, annexed by a foreign power. So we can rule out Euclio as being Britain's Prime Minister.

What about the other? I suppose that this gentleman's criminal record may very well invalidate him from becoming Prime Minister. Yet even if criminals were permitted, how much more corruption would be rife if crooks were permitted to run the nation?

Moreover, there is no such thing as 'random' when it comes to computers (and in this day and age, the 'random' selection would probably be done via computers). Computers generate pseudo-random numbers, kind of like a wheel with numbers on, that turns a number of notches. As evidence of this, a friend of mine (a very gifted programmer) once generated a random height map for a game he was writing. On the first generation of it, the hills, when looked at from above, generated a face with a smile. This is evidence that there is no such thing as 'random' when it comes to computers.

The lecturer cited the κληρωτήριον (incorrectly mentioning it in the plural, therefore betraying the speaker's lack of knowledge when it comes to Latin and ancient Greek). It is fanciful to imagine that back in the 5th century B.C.E. or even the heyday of Rome, that things were much better than they are now. This is a rose-tinted view of the ancient world, and many people indulge this nonsense. For example, no women or slaves had any say in ancient Athenian 'democracy'. Moreover, there are some (mentioning no names) that believe that the dream-temples of Asclepius should be brought back. Yet reading Aelius Aristides, it is clear that whatever spirit(s) visited him in his dreams, was not a good spirit. The being bade him to jump into a freezing cold river in the middle of winter, then cover himself with mud and walk around the town naked. This is not a good thing, just as returning to Athenian style 'democracy' is not a good thing. Democracy is precious, and for all politicians' faults (which are very many), a good many politicians go into politics to help bring about positive change. It would be cynical to take the view of House of Cards, and have no faith in democracy (even if House of Cards and Yes, Minister have much in common with Britain's political system). Sortition is not an answer. It is a dangerous idea that could potentially throw many nation states into chaos, without law, order and most of all: democracy. The electoral mandate is what gives a party legitimacy. It is not because a ruler has been pulled out of a hat.

In other news, England plays Iran today in the World Cup. Even if this is a nation of money launderers and arms dealers, without honour, I will support England, if only because I was born here.

The law, Britain and slavery

Dear Diary,

When I first signed up for this job I do now (unskilled labour) I discerned quite quickly that the managers on salary earn less - per hour - than those on the shop floor. When I mentioned this to another employer (at a gig our Old Time band had a residency at), the proprietor said that, ‘It’s not the money, it’s the prestige of being a manager’. The same applies to the law in this - God forsaken, formerly mighty and proud - nation. Junior criminal barristers earn less than people that work wiping old folks’ arses or cleaning the gunk out of pans. In what country, 2022, do lawyers earn less than toilet attendants? Dark Age Britain, is what country.

Being a lawyer is a tough job. It requires years of training and study. Lawyers also have a great deal of vicarious trauma to deal with. What kind of a state pays lawyers less than people that do unskilled labour? A broken state, is what.

During the course of my study of the law I have learnt two things. (1) The only country in the Council of Europe which does not abide by the European Convention on Human Rights (1950) is Britain, apart from one: Russia. (2) The only country in the whole European continent which uses the ‘first past the post’ voting system is Britain, apart from one: Belarus. Besides these anti-democratic and anti-humanitarian realities, what do Britain, Russia and Belarus all have in common? They all launder mafia money through the City of London via offshore tax havens, thus draining the economy of its strength and facilitating criminal enterprises. Britain, Russia and Belarus, are all really on the same side: at least in terms of the élites running each country. This is the reality. This is what’s actually going down. If you would like evidence of this very real fact, then I would point you towards the following threads. Firstly, page 21 of the following article:

Foster, S. & Foster, S. (2022) ‘Reforming the Human Rights Act 1998 and the Bill of Rights Bill 2022’, Coventry Law Journal, vol.27 issue 1, pp.1-21. Available at the Coventry Law Journal on-line: https://publications.coventry.ac.uk/index.php/clj/article/view/866 (accessed October 31st, 2022).

Mortimer, J. (2021) ‘“The future is going to be negotiated, not dictated”: Labour figures speak out for PR’, The Electoral Reform Society: https://www.electoral-reform.org.uk/the-future-is-going-to-be-negotiated-not-dictated-labour-figures-speak-out-for-pr/ (accessed November 17th, 2022).

For further evidence it is worth consulting the literature about the Panama Papers and also the work of the investigative journalist Oliver Bullough.

Britain is a nation of slaves. This is the reality. It pretends not to be, and pretends very well, but in actual fact, once the facade is seen through, and the deeds of the élite are exposed for what they are (remember, Britain’s two biggest exports are (1) ‘financial services’ [money laundering], and (2) the arms trade - Britain has been running guns between here and Spain since at least the sixteenth century, or so I learnt at university while studying medieval and modern history) this is what this country thrives on: crime and murder. Anyone that thinks that Britain honours its word, or is for peace, or good will, had better think again.

I’ll give you just one example. I have a friend, a political writer, and he was invited to London to speak with a banker, a speculator on currencies, about doing some work for him. My friend did the work, then mused to a colleague about when he might be paid for doing the work. His colleague replied that, “Oh, that’s how it’s always is with [said banker]. It’s like getting blood out of a stone.” This man has billions, and billions, and billions of pounds, but won’t part with even one… single… penny. Not one. For work which he himself had commissioned. This is how Britain operates. It pretends to do business, but in actual fact, it is a nation of thieves. The fact is, the harder you work, the more you study, the better a person you become (in terms of being considerate, kind hearted and mindful), the worse off you become, so long as you live in Dark Age Britain.

A new direction

Dear Diary,

That... place (Hades, the Infernal Regions, a fiery, hellish place, a place where ignorance, brutes, imps and curmudgeons rule supreme: where the usual order of God's heaven is inverted) does not bear mentioning. As for the law degree: I have a tight deadline and have shed loads of reading to do. I've had it. I'll get it done, of course, but not on Friday night after another attending to the most servile, basest duties.

The guy came through with the source code, which is great news. Only the eBook code is written so far, but it should be only about seventeen days until the assignment is fully complete. Therefore, I have been reading Vasari's Lives of the Artists (only in translation: George Bull's), and researching my new book: Lives of Extraordinary Artists In Our Times. Scarcely a slender fraction of artists I have had the pleasure of meeting have made it into my book. I would have liked to include several dozen more, but these are not well known to me, having only worked with them or met them on one or two occasions. It is a little work of biography, which is a popular genre.

I had decided to keep myself well out of the book, but intend to include a (brief) note about myself and my art, as the last appendix (available only in the print version, as are all its appendices). The British Establishment will go down in history as having no taste, no refinement, no sophistication. They chose cotton when they could have had silk. The UK is not alone in favouring lesser poets. That awful poem by Amanda Gorman (spoken on President Biden's inauguration) was completely lacking in literary merit: all hot air, no real thought was put into it. These are the reasons why this is not Elizabethan England, but instead the literary Dark Age.

In any case, I look forward to exposing the British art scene for what it is: all a facade, lacking in any real depth or substance. For example, the British appear to favour dance, as an art form (as evidenced by the popular TV show Strictly) but in actual fact, dance is deemed the lowest art form, in education. Any art form is reserved exclusively for the rich. (Certainly when I was at school, I had only one free choice of subject: so I chose music, naturally. Now, I hear, there is no choice, and anyone wishing to go on to study music at college has to focus more on editing and the commercial side, instead of, when I studied it: actually learning how to play a musical instrument well). I suppose that's a bit to complicated for the British to understand. It is only those with the means that have the luxury of learning how to master a musical instrument well under the proper guidance. Archaeology is another subject (though technically a science) which is all glitz and glamour on the BBC, but is actually off the syllabus in Further Education and has been since 2016 (along with classical civilisation A-level). Sure, the British pretend to rate art, music, opera, and high literary culture, but the reality is, that in education at least, arts are the lowest of the low. STEM subjects are where it's at. "Facts! Facts! Facts Mr. Gradgrind!"

The War and other musings

Dear Diary,

February 24th, 2022, was something of a landmark date in the history of mankind: the day Russia officially invaded Ukraine (or rather: began conducting a special military operation, depending on your viewpoint). Now, 166 days later, on November 16th, there are reports of two men killed in Poland as a result of a missile landing there, allegedly launched from an S-300 (a Russian made missile system, also used by the Ukrainian military). At first the President of Poland initially blamed Russia. Then, after NATO had words, the chances (allegedly) are that it may have come from a Ukrainian missle launcher.

NATO have had to play a very fine balancing act. On the one hand: how to avoid an escalation of the conflict and avert a third world war, which could only end in mutually assured destruction. On the other hand: how far can Russia (or China, or North Korea) push it before they can expect reprisals, and not just economic.

I used to be a dove, and in my heart of hearts I should still be. Then I grew up. The world isn't some happy free loving place where nothing ever goes wrong, everyone is extremely nice and kind to one another all the time, and everything is free (Rainbowland). Now, even if Rainbowland is a preferable place, an ideal worth striving towards: Snuggle Nook, it is not actually the world we live in. We live on Earth, not in Rainbowland.

As a classicist, I tend to look through the lens of and learn the lessons of, the ancient authors: the old philosophers. Where Isocrates wanted peace, Demosthenes willed war. Yet these were orators, statesmen, Demosthenes was like an Attic Cicero. Notwithstanding the curiously intruiging tractes of Plato, Aristotle and Hermes Trismegistus, most of history, the writings of ancient times, are all about one thing: war. It is not always war. Sometimes treaties are made, hostages exchanged in good faith, peace is made. There are moments of peace in history, such as Sulla pacifying pirates in the Med' (according to Velleius Paterculus). They exist, but they are the exception, not the norm.

Equally, as a curiosity, there are only two proper extant works on the subject of war, which are extant in Latin. Both are (relatively) late. One is by Sextus Julius Frontinus (1st century of the Christian Era), and even that is simply a drawing together of anecdotes about war. His book The Art of War does not survive. The second is a 4th century author Vegetius, and his De Rerum Militari ('On Military Matters'). Even so, in the writings of Livy, Polybius, Tacitus, Plutarch, Josephus and Cassius Dio we get several windows or 'snapshots' of what it was like to be a soldier, back in the day.

There are a couple of other nice writings, beyond ancient Greece and Rome, from the ancient world, notably Sun Tzu's classic little exposé of war. I even quite enjoy Clausewitz. Anyway.

These aren't the days of Homer in the 8th century Before the Christian Era. As I have learnt from my studying public law, there are such considerations as international law and conventions, such as human rights law, war crimes, and atrocities. Frontinus, nor Sun Tzu, nor even Vegetius, had any such things in mind. A friend of mine (not a well read man) spoke to me of Machiavelli recently. If anything, this later author of real-politic(s), had a more enlightened and somewhat more honourable view, not quite so ruthless as our ancient forebears. Machiavelli - if one has not read him - is a stereotype. Yet compared to the old-school war mongers, like Sun Tzu, Frontinus or Vegetius, Machiavelli is pretty tame compared to the ruthless pragmatism shown by the old-school war mongers. Ghengis Khan style: pepper on the gloves, no pulling punches. Anyway, these are just my ramblings for the day.

The law course (a fresh case) essay one

Dear Diary,

I've had to alter course recently, on my tack towards the first law assignment (public law). The case I chose was from Toronto, Ontario, but because it is from extra-jurisdictional territory, a Dominion, not Great Britain (thus not a case directly related to the UK constitution), I cannot choose it. So, I've had to re-examine my pool of little landmarks: important cases, directly relevant to parliamentary sovereignty and Albert Venn Dicey (or rather Professor Mark Walters' A.V. Dicey and the Common Law Constitutional Tradition (Cambridge University Press).

Equally, reading the same text, over and over and over, is extremely helpful. You start to see angles, connections, ways in which you can answer the question in such a way that you cite case law, black-letter law and indeed academic works by legal scholars, and that answers the question directly relevant to its rubric (and marking criteria). There is a way, through the nebulous misty forest of shadowed questions, illuminated by firelight or moonlight, led by a train of fair hamadryads and faeries belonging to Diana, Artemis or Selene.

In other words, I've managed to get a handle on this whole law essay thang, which is pretty cool actually. Getting a handle on it involves reading the sources, again, and again, and making notes, and reading again. The case, however, is another matter. Now I have to choose: Entick v Carrington, or Bonham's Case, perhaps even Smith v the City of London. That last case I've had to strike off the list, as I said, because it is a Supreme Court case in Canada (although a similar, contemporary case: the Florence Mining Company v Cobalt Lake Mining Company, was brought before the Privy Council, in London, in 1911), not a UK case. Smith v City of London is a particularly curious case, but I am forced to let it go.

Settle thy studies Faustus, and begin to sound the depth of that thou wilt profess.

Another marvellous day, a joanna (piano), and a little singing, cajon and guitar

Dear Diary,

Slashes of salmon streaked wisps of clouds drew little lines across the sunsetting sky, with almost ominious looking cumulonimbus gathered, which could be fragments of Chaos prior to Nyx: another Hesiod. It was a beautiful sunset this evening. Unfortanely I forgot to check the schedule/rota at work. Bligh got a message to me, and as I unwrapped the tiny note from the pigeon's leg, I read, much to my surprise, that I was supposed to be onboard the Bounty, heading for the New World in search of breadfruit this evening. Bugger. It'll be fifty lashes beneath the yard arm, being whipped as a boy when next I board this dreadful and dreary and really quite boring day job at that... place (Hades, the Infernal Regions). It is perhaps a blessing, the possibility of being discharged from the ship's crew manifest as part of her cargo, another chattel tossed overboard or made to walk the plank at the inevitable sedition which soon takes hold of the ship. Mr. Christian saying to Bligh, "For these past few months I've been in Hell, Sir! Hell!". Anyway.

So I took the day off to play some music. Having crossed paths with the luthier, I managed to find a piano to play, which was nice. Later we played some cajon and guitar. Yet Sadly, when I was playing the piano little Ronulus went poo-pooh, twice, in a public place. I had to clean up after the little bugger straight away, apologise profusely to the owners and members of the public nearby. I then played, "Ronnie Barker: best dog in the world" a song I wrote for him when first I took him in (he's a stray, a former working dog).

"I got this dog Ronnie Barker, he's the best damn dog, in the whole wide world.
Ronnie Barker's my friend, he's my family, he means the whole damn world to me" (etc.) (etc) ...

It was really quite good to play some joanna, even if little Ronulus, the bugger, made foul of the situation. He's a good boy. Best dog in the world, but a cheeky monkey. Quite possibly the cheekiest monkey in the entire world, but he's a good boy. The best. Little Ronulus.

Anyhow. Much as Bligh will be dismayed, and I reflect upon not being minded to check the rota more thoroughly, twice, instead of once, at the beginning of the week, I will probably have to attend that... place (Hades) again in the near future. This I will do so willingly, but only because it is my duty to do my job as best I can, however humble or meek that task may be. Once this chap comes through with the code we need for the publishing business, we should be laughing, in theory. Certainly, there will be a four or so, perhaps even six month delay before I can rest awhile. Perhaps do some writing, like Cicero in the last couple of years of his life. I've really been getting into Milton's Paradise Lost lately. Anyway. I have a university assignment to write. No extensions on this course, and it's only 13 days until D-day. Ciao for now.

The learning curve, and an otherwise splendid day

Dear Diary,

It occurred to me while translating a little Latin recently (just some frivolous and really quite unimportant orator and historian from the first and second centuries of the Christian Era - no-one much cares about such triflingly insignificant things in Dark Age Britain) that I have put an awful lot of time into learning Latin. Twelve years, in fact. It's a little too late to change course now. I do, however, like studying the law, very much so. However, as much as the wiles and distractions of Dicey, Wade, Coke, Blackstone, Austin and Bentham make for a jolly fine little muse or hobby (for the law is nothing more than that in Dark Age Britain, well, certainly in terms of criminal law - the only branch I am interested in studying), Latin was my first love. Although I had a brief love affair - so to speak - with ancient Greek (and heaven only knows how much I see this mistress of sorts, from time to time, when impulse takes me), it is Latin to whom I am married, in scholarly terms, and it is Latin that has ravished me more times than I can remember - intellectually speaking. So, I began translating, and it dawned on me, very rapidly, that these dozen years essaying to fathom what was known on A397 (Continuing Classical Latin) as what seems to be "a thankless task" (namely, translating Latin), but that in translating such an author as this, perhaps it can be rewarding. I am only too aware that a true philosopher cares not for money, but knowledge, wisdom, kindness, goodness, and is ever mindful, honest, upright, tolerant, and does the right thing. However, this particular Latin scholar (that is by the day becoming ever more acquainted with reading actual manuscripts and deciphering scribal abbreviation - a talent not well understood by very many Latin scholars) does, in fact, have to pay rent, and must find from somewhere the rather high fees for his university course. Therefore, it is unwise to change course, so late in the game. Far better to apply what one's learnt to something practical and useful, rather than chase rainbows in the hope of finding some mythical leprechaun with a pot of gold at the end of it. A good grounding in public law, parliamentary sovereignty, the rule of law, human rights, devolution and the separation of powers, is beneficial only for poor people, namely, junior criminal barristers. However, a great grounding in one's chosen academic specialism is worth something. I remember, as I translated this little text, that the Magister Artium had come in rather useful. Therefore, my education has not been a complete and utter waste of time, even if the British have no honour, do not know how to conduct business properly and fairly, and offer - at best - merely volunteer "work" (slavery, however you dress it up). They (the University) make a lot of transferrable skills. I call this, "transferrable bullshit". The reason I call it such a profane and nonsensical name, is because rather than applying what one has learnt, over these past twelve years, in a job which is actually directly relevant (namely, Latin, Roman history, archaeology, classics) to what one has learnt, they seem to fondly imagine that these skills are somehow useful in some other capacity, completely and utterly irrelevant to having studied classical Latin for over a decade. A proof reader. Now that is one transferrable skill (BS) which I have done. Yet that could easily be done by someone that had merely studied English Lit', or not even any subject at all, but was well educated at school and tended to read a lot. It is, in short, beneath me.

Therefore, I am inclined to spend more and more time attempting to claw my way out of the gutter by precision targeted translations (niches: gaps in the market) and that is all. I have done my patriotic duty already (such things are worthless in Dark Age Britain) by translating Nennius' Historia Brittonum and penning my best and finest play: Boadicea: Queen of the Iceni. Now, is the time to actually go against my mother's maiden name, our family motto: quod iustum non quod utile ('[Do] what [is] right, not what [is] profitable'). I shall instead, do what is profitable. This may seem unwise to the would-be guru that lives in a cave or the monk that subsists on rainwater and scavenging for food by begging, but philosophy is the path of the pauper. That much has been perfectly evident since the days of Socrates or even Diogenes of Sinope. The latter, when offered anything in the world by Alexander the Great, was reputed to ask only for sunlight (for Alexander to stand out of his shade). Diogenes had a lot of sunlight, and not much else. According to one chronicler, someone pointed out that he had a begging bowl, and Diogenes cast it away exclaiming that he had not realised just how useless an object he had been carrying around. He lived in a barrel. This life, as much as it is quaint and antiquated, is not the life for me. I do not intend to live in a barrel, begging, without even a bowl. I intend to work, and work hard. As my rather vehement biker friend once said (and indeed my equally vehement ex-fiancée also posited): the only two people that make any money in this world are (a) the government [of which I have no truck with], and (b) the owners of businesses. Why be a slave to the system, when you can become a masterful player within it?

Today was rather splendid. I found a nice little Latin book. Met my philosopher friend, and the luthier. We are getting the band back together, which is jolly nice. Moreover, Bligh was not in at Hades, only the 'elder' thug (several years my junior, I might at) and the puerile oompa loompa, and her little domestic disaster of a foul mouthed curmudgeon of a sister: the Lilliputian. Therefore, it was relatively peaceful, what with the festivities being over now. Here's to 'propping one's self up, not being propped up' as Marcus Aurelius Antoninus once wrote.

Fiscal challenges, the law degree and another night

Dear Diary,

One might imagine that as a historian, I could be waffling on about the House of Commons being blown up by Guy Fawkes, or as a spectator of life, watching pretty fireworks displays or setting straw men on fire. Alas, no. I was in Hades this weekend (more on that later...).

I am concerned about the cost of this law degree. Evidently, criminal law is a subject for paupers, beggars, slaves, just as archaeology, classical Latin and ancient Greek are subjects for paupers, beggars and slaves in Dark Age Britain. I slog my bloody guts out, each evening, at the behest of impatient yelling teenagers and Eastern European thugs. The cost of my third degree is £15,000, up front, and for what? For a job which pays less than minimum wage. But it is the prestige, the honour of being f-ed up the ass by the State that means becoming a junior criminal barrister is such an "illustrious" profession, much like becoming a university lecturer (therefore having to take a part time job to secure enough for your family, and have your pension taken away), or a junior doctor (for example, Rose Polge in 2016) that throws herself into the sea because there is no point in making anything of yourself here, now, in Dark Age Britain. The more you learn, the less you earn. Now, some may say I am superficial and materialistic, but when a junior criminal barrister, or a junior doctor, or a university lecturer isn't even paid enough to make ends meet, so has to take jobs on the side just to keep their head above water, evidently, something is very wrong, somewhere.

I'm f-ing off the law degree. Why? Because criminal law - in Dark Age Britain at least - is a subject for poor people, beggars, slaves. Take, for example, someone that knows:

The notion that "fat-cat solicitors and swaggering ruddy-nosed barristers are gorging on taxpayer cream, cackling as they speed away from court in their open-top BMWs to quaff legally aided Dom Pérignon 1966 after a half-day spent pulling the wool over a jury's eyes" contains no truth whatsoever (Anonmymous, 2019, p.202 [Stories of the Law and How It's Broken {The Secret Barrister}]. The truth is, that studying law, just like studying Latin, at university, gets you absolutely nowhere, except in debt, only to do a very difficult job for less than minimum wage (once overtime and expenses are factored in). Yet it's the "prestige", the "honour" of becoming a junior criminal barrister that counts, right?

Wrong. It's a tough job, very tough, and is worth more than this, a lot more.

Back to Hades. This evening the oompa loompa lost her s- again, as did the older thug. Luckily, we had an audience. Amid the chaos, the yelling, throwing things (by the oompa loompa) and the older thug swearing in his usual gangster type demeanor (his pitbull is also called 'gangster' by the way - which tells you something about the man: not only of the most common breeding and combative nature, but also his choice of appelation for his hound). The audience (customers) began to laugh. To which the thug replied, "Is not funny" then began swearing, and I don't mean on a solemn oath over the river Styx or an oath sworn to the All-Seeing Sun God. I mean, he lost his s-. I admit, I found it quite amusing. Here the most experienced, the most well educated, the most mindful, are nothing in Dark Age Britain. On the contrary, as the Lilliputian and oompa loompa have proved time and time again, yelling, throwing things, and employing profanities, buckling under even the slightest pressure, is where it's at. I would go further than this. I would say that - far from having a sense of mindfulness, and thinking about the consequences of one's actions, here, in Dark Age Britain, it is purposely being unmindful which is the way to get ahead. These teenagers, when they clean the sides, throw food everywhere. When they take pans or grilles, they slam them down. This essentially amounts to puerile attention seeking, a low frustration tolerance and having no patience whatsover. I know for a fact that these people have not read "If" by Rudyard Kipling. They do not keep their heads about them when all others lose theirs. On the contrary, they enjoy being utterly brainless, lacking in all reason, and certainly not at all polite.

What of age, experience, education, politeness, caring, being thoughtful, being mindful? These things make one the very worst kind of human being, the lowest, most basest slave that ever subsisted in this once great nation. Imagine, two degrees, a third in law, and what is there? Nothing. Nay, less than nothing: volunteer 'work' (if you're lucky...), which is nothing more than slavery, however you dress it up and pretend it's something it's not.

These are the Dark Ages, and anyone that thinks otherwise is living in f-ing Rainbow land. And that too, is a fact.

Samhain - from a hermetic philosophical perspective.

Dear Diary,

It is said that the veil between the spirit world and our earth is at its thinnest at this time of year. There is actually a brief discussion of this in the hermetic philosophical text the Asclepius (7b-8), preserved in Latin only. It is found in the Nock and Festugiere critical edition (vol.2) on pp.304-306, or in (my) translation on pp.89-90, which I have quoted a little of here.

Trismegistus: God's will is the very highest perfection inasmuch as since he is to have meditated and could have fulfilled this, he had achieved one and the same thing in an instant. Thus when God was considering the ουσιώδης ('essence') it wasn't possible to hold everything dear unless it was hidden by a worldly veil (mundanum integimentum). God had covered it in a corporeal house and it was to be all such kinds as he had anticipated, and out of each nature blending and mingling into one: however much he had kept back was to be enough. And so God formed man out of body and soul (that is, out of a mortal and an eternal part) from nature as an animal [or 'living being']. So by having been formed and each from its origin would be able to be satisfied with both wonder and speech, celestial and eternal, both to inhabit and govern only earthly mortality:... the cultivation of the earth, tending pastures, buildings, maintaining ports, taking voyages, establishing communication systems and services of other kinds coming into being. It is man who is the strongest at pulling humanity's fabric together, mutually... saved by the study and application of the arts and education, that God had not wanted a perfected world to be without. For necessity followed the teachings of God and accomplishment attended the will to do so. It is not credible that what had pleased God intended to displease him, since it will do and was intended to please him, that man would know many of the teachings beforehand.

Asclepius 8 (trans. Latham, 2020, pp.89-90 [Corpus Hermeticum - The Power and Wisdom of God Falcon Books Publishing]) probably translated from ancient Greek into Latin by Apuleius during the 2nd century of the Christian Era.