chukopops
Iron
- Joined
- Jan 27, 2024
- Posts
- 38
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Dear Skrelly,
I hope this letter finds you well. Polina and the baby, congratulations are in order, truly. Life seems to move faster for you now, while mine lumbers along, indistinguishable from the humdrum that has always been my constant companion. The bar continues its monotonous rhythm, glasses clinking, orders repeating, patrons fading in and out like clockwork.
This trouble began a week ago, though the shadow of it lingers still. It was the day Camelot, our manager, in some rare fit of goodwill or perhaps mischief, assigned me an extra ten-hour shift. I accepted without question, not seeing any problem in it at the time, though I suspect the universe had other plans. You know my relationship with Camelot, we are two forces perpetually at odds, yet here I was, extending my own labor at his behest.
It was during this shift that I encountered a coworker I had never seen before. We spoke briefly, and I discovered she works only nine hours a week. Such a notion is strange to me, given the endless hours I seem to willingly endure. Ginger hair, graceful movements, there’s a quiet presence about her that stands out, though I say that only to myself.
The day of my exam and the 10 hour shift came shortly after. I sat there in the hall, reviewing my notes, trying to keep the edge of anxiety at bay. The material was familiar, but the way the questions were framed demanded not just recall but precision, nuance, and the ability to connect threads I had barely noticed in my revision. I thought about every case, every principle, every margin of error that could cost me a mark. I left the exam hall with a sense of tentative relief, though I knew the real test of memory and analysis was only just behind me.
Afterwards, the bus was thirty minutes late. Waiting, I observed the usual assortment of fringe personalities around me, some loudly performing, others entirely oblivious. The troonites and degenerates of the city seemed especially prominent that day, crowding the space with energy that was impossible to ignore. I considered muttering about the one too many Americans I can tolerate on a Monday morning, though I let the thought pass as dry humour, only mine to keep.
during the shift, time quite literally slowed down hours were like days, and many personalities coming and going, my social mask was slipping and I wanted to rage, lash out against everyone, but no the pressure of authority and financial ruin held my leash tight, the way some people customers treat you like subhuman, calling ur name when they want to order while you are serving some else is truly something I cannot bare, they can see with their eyes you're busy but yet their minds and mouths won't shut up about the grandiosity and how they deserve ur attention, they day lightened up however as the Stacy came in to work, which admittedly increased my mood, it amazing to me how someone who is attractive can make u feel better especially when ur near the gutter, as expected I only engaged her with little small talk, but me now seeing things im going to try and talk to her especcially when I have stopped been ugly. after work I was on another bus to my home, there I met a drunk Glaswegian guy we imidiatly struck up a conversation of nothing of importance, I tried to delve deeper in his state of mind but the blabbering was too much it was ten I realised the man was just in general a loser, he was end of 30s mid 40s maybe even 50 no wife or kids no job just a drunkard and I truly thought for once during this day maybe my current situation is not that bad, despite the content of our discussion the talking to someone no matter how mundane it was gave me an air of fulfilment and me and the man at the end of the bus journey parted ways. now I was in town if edinburgh was full of the most flamboyant of people filled with broken dream artists and crude comedians the glasgow was filled with the most upended degenerates you can find, It was awfully busy tonight and I could not help myself to hide, the taxis were expensive to get home and I swallowed my pride to wait an hour for my bus, there I met one of this deigns another failure this time hooked on ecstasy and covered with meaningless and hedonistic tattoos he was topless and was just kicked out of a club, deserved I will say so he was mummuring in his speech and his phone was locked for 7 hours, I felt pity for him and in my magnanimous nature I gave him a spare shirt that was in my bag, I didnt like him but I enjoyed is company, the bus came and all was well my phone been of a slippery nature fell out my pocket and hit the bus floor, that's when a couple infront of me with their smug smile and happy life asked me if I was ok and tried to engage in conversation, to say I was not in the mood was an understatement I lashed out, I raged against the inequality and unfairness of it, this world these people why they cared so much why they had to talk to me, the couple didn't seem to care after my verbal bought, but after they were about to get off, the man wanted to create some gesture of reconciliation which I refused feeling hurt from what happened. going home it was 3am my parents were sleeping and no-one answered the door when I knocked I ended up sleeping in the car which was open strangly.
And so I write to you, Skrelly, reflecting on work, the exam, and the city, caught between the mundane and the unexpectedly vivid. These threads accumulate, forming a day that is neither exceptional nor wholly unremarkable, yet worth noting in the hope that putting words to them grants some clarity, however fleeting.
I hope this letter finds you well. Polina and the baby, congratulations are in order, truly. Life seems to move faster for you now, while mine lumbers along, indistinguishable from the humdrum that has always been my constant companion. The bar continues its monotonous rhythm, glasses clinking, orders repeating, patrons fading in and out like clockwork.
This trouble began a week ago, though the shadow of it lingers still. It was the day Camelot, our manager, in some rare fit of goodwill or perhaps mischief, assigned me an extra ten-hour shift. I accepted without question, not seeing any problem in it at the time, though I suspect the universe had other plans. You know my relationship with Camelot, we are two forces perpetually at odds, yet here I was, extending my own labor at his behest.
It was during this shift that I encountered a coworker I had never seen before. We spoke briefly, and I discovered she works only nine hours a week. Such a notion is strange to me, given the endless hours I seem to willingly endure. Ginger hair, graceful movements, there’s a quiet presence about her that stands out, though I say that only to myself.
The day of my exam and the 10 hour shift came shortly after. I sat there in the hall, reviewing my notes, trying to keep the edge of anxiety at bay. The material was familiar, but the way the questions were framed demanded not just recall but precision, nuance, and the ability to connect threads I had barely noticed in my revision. I thought about every case, every principle, every margin of error that could cost me a mark. I left the exam hall with a sense of tentative relief, though I knew the real test of memory and analysis was only just behind me.
Afterwards, the bus was thirty minutes late. Waiting, I observed the usual assortment of fringe personalities around me, some loudly performing, others entirely oblivious. The troonites and degenerates of the city seemed especially prominent that day, crowding the space with energy that was impossible to ignore. I considered muttering about the one too many Americans I can tolerate on a Monday morning, though I let the thought pass as dry humour, only mine to keep.
during the shift, time quite literally slowed down hours were like days, and many personalities coming and going, my social mask was slipping and I wanted to rage, lash out against everyone, but no the pressure of authority and financial ruin held my leash tight, the way some people customers treat you like subhuman, calling ur name when they want to order while you are serving some else is truly something I cannot bare, they can see with their eyes you're busy but yet their minds and mouths won't shut up about the grandiosity and how they deserve ur attention, they day lightened up however as the Stacy came in to work, which admittedly increased my mood, it amazing to me how someone who is attractive can make u feel better especially when ur near the gutter, as expected I only engaged her with little small talk, but me now seeing things im going to try and talk to her especcially when I have stopped been ugly. after work I was on another bus to my home, there I met a drunk Glaswegian guy we imidiatly struck up a conversation of nothing of importance, I tried to delve deeper in his state of mind but the blabbering was too much it was ten I realised the man was just in general a loser, he was end of 30s mid 40s maybe even 50 no wife or kids no job just a drunkard and I truly thought for once during this day maybe my current situation is not that bad, despite the content of our discussion the talking to someone no matter how mundane it was gave me an air of fulfilment and me and the man at the end of the bus journey parted ways. now I was in town if edinburgh was full of the most flamboyant of people filled with broken dream artists and crude comedians the glasgow was filled with the most upended degenerates you can find, It was awfully busy tonight and I could not help myself to hide, the taxis were expensive to get home and I swallowed my pride to wait an hour for my bus, there I met one of this deigns another failure this time hooked on ecstasy and covered with meaningless and hedonistic tattoos he was topless and was just kicked out of a club, deserved I will say so he was mummuring in his speech and his phone was locked for 7 hours, I felt pity for him and in my magnanimous nature I gave him a spare shirt that was in my bag, I didnt like him but I enjoyed is company, the bus came and all was well my phone been of a slippery nature fell out my pocket and hit the bus floor, that's when a couple infront of me with their smug smile and happy life asked me if I was ok and tried to engage in conversation, to say I was not in the mood was an understatement I lashed out, I raged against the inequality and unfairness of it, this world these people why they cared so much why they had to talk to me, the couple didn't seem to care after my verbal bought, but after they were about to get off, the man wanted to create some gesture of reconciliation which I refused feeling hurt from what happened. going home it was 3am my parents were sleeping and no-one answered the door when I knocked I ended up sleeping in the car which was open strangly.
And so I write to you, Skrelly, reflecting on work, the exam, and the city, caught between the mundane and the unexpectedly vivid. These threads accumulate, forming a day that is neither exceptional nor wholly unremarkable, yet worth noting in the hope that putting words to them grants some clarity, however fleeting.
