antinouswild (
antinouswild) wrote in
dear_mun2013-01-14 05:07 pm
Entry tags:
He's getting sick of this
Dear Mun,
I am getting tired of people calling me 'boy' or making reference to the fact that they seem to think that I am 'pretty.'
Both are irritating me.
Please do something about that.
I don't care if you think that they are in your control or not.
I am getting tired of people calling me 'boy' or making reference to the fact that they seem to think that I am 'pretty.'
Both are irritating me.
Please do something about that.
I don't care if you think that they are in your control or not.

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And bread is there. For those willing to work for it the law provides. You think I don't have any understanding of the common man? Boy?
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[He's practically growling.] You clearly know nothing of suffering if that is how you feel.
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My mother? Yes.
She is indeed my mother, and I will defend her as such. It is she that bore me and her children are my brothers. And I watch them die for want of doctors, heat, even food.
No more.
I have watched them tread upon by people like YOU, who would like such things to continue to protect the oh-so-comfortable few who pay your salary to keep them comfortable.
You are no better than a dog on a chain who bites for scraps.
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The way things are now, only a few can.
But I suppose the ones who can't, to you, are just rats.
That's why you think that all men who want to work can find jobs and bread. When they can't, you stop seeing them as men.
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[He thuds his hands against the table] You know nothing of true suffering and sacrifice, otherwise you would not be so quick to say that others experience it so regularly!
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Not only are they limited, they are being crushed. You truly are blind.
You are ignorant and a fool. You speak of suffering? What would you know? You've never wanted for food or warmth.
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and in the end I have not wanted because I understand it is better to serve justice.
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I know you are blind to the problems that exist in France today. I know that you are a spy.
What else do I need to know?
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His hands fold behind him as he considers the room before raising an eyebrow and pacing, less a man and more a coiled beast.]
My mother - [He had no memory of the woman. No memory of her, no charm, no nothing] Was a gypsy. Arrested, for the crime of vagrancy, stealing - from the people who had come to see her... [His expression twists] performances.
My father was an oarhand on a turkish galley. He jumped ship and fled. [More pacing] They met in sin and degredation and I was given a chance to be better then they were and their crimes.
[He shakes his head] So what you must know, is that I am in the same place. A place lower, in fact then you - who are so...proud.
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Then you should know, better than most, that it is not simply a matter of will. Many desire to do what you did, and are just as willing to work and want nothing more than to live honest lives. But, circumstances make it impossible.
Not everyone has your good fortune.
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And everyone who chooses to work with society can be wealthy and free.
Do you really believe it is that simple? Are you that naive? That's a child's logic. That's what nursemaids tell their charges to comfort them when they are frightened by the pain and suffering that goes on beneath the nursery window.