In Which I Plunge Headfirst into either my Ultimate Ruination or Eventual Salvation

The above heliographic projection may be taken to indicate my current frame of mind.  Despite the somewhat melodramatic title of this entry, dear reader,  I find myself in supremely good spirits.  This could mean either that I am blissfully unaware of of my impending doom, or cheerfully accepting of the circumstances.   

Before getting to the reason for this, however,  I first must apologize for the uncharacteristic lapse in the frequency of these missives.  As will soon become quite clear, ever since the Beltane weekend detailed in the previous posting the pace of my Second Life has been such that I have scarcely had time to breathe, let alone spend a few precious moments indulging in this most enjoyable activity of sharing my adventures with you.  I could not go any longer without doing so, however, else all that has transpired might go completely unremarked as it would soon be swept away by the avalanche of future adventures and enterprises.

Those of you who have been following this journal have been witness to many transformations including changes of appearance, station and attitude.  I now share with you two most momentous occurrences which are sure to forever change my Second Life.   The first is of a professional nature, the second personal.

A Bold New Enterprise

A couple of weeks ago I was perusing the classifieds in the Caledon Forums and noted that Her Grace Kintyre had put a rather large parcel in Oxbridge Village for sale.  Being familiar with the village I reasoned that it must be the Thistle Hill parcel.  My enquiries confirmed this.  At first I was saddened by this news.  Thistle Hill Keep is, or was, a magnificent building; however, the fickle winds of social event planing have blown away from the venue in favor of others.  The hall, therefore, has sat unused for many months.  Rather than maintain a sizable non-productive parcel Her Grace decided to sell it off. 

A lively discussion ensued wherein many contributed suggestions for just what use one might put the land.  For some reason the idea of a market plaza stood out to me.  In fact it so excited my imagination that I found myself utterly preoccupied by it.  I wrote up a preliminary proposal for the project, researched the costs I might incur and the amount of funding  I would need.  I speculated on the probable amount of traffic such a market might expect and made lists of potential merchants who might be interested in a presence there.

For some reason I sensed that there might be others of the same mind, and so time was of the essence.  Still in the grips of this compulsion I boldly contacted and later met with Her Grace and Sir Erasmus to present my proposal.  By now many of you will have seen the results of that meeting.  Either you have seen the structures replacing Thistle Hill Keep or you have seen the recent announcements I have posted on various nings and fora.  And, so, dear reader, you now behold the latest step in my evolution from free-spirited, penniless vagabond to productive, propertied, and hopefully prosperous, landowning capitalist.   Oh the horror!  May the gods have mercy on my soul.  (A rather odd thing for a demon to be saying,  perhaps).

With the Spring Doth Bloom A New Romance

The 10th of May is now for me a day embedded in my soul.  For on that day I found my Heart’s Desire.  I had set to work that quiet Sunday Eve, busily cataloging volumes for the Caledon Library.  After some time at this task by brain grew weary and I sought a reprieve.  A quick glance at the calendar of events showed that the Propspinners Pub Dance was underway.  Aha!  Here was a chance to  add another to my list of Caledon’s social venues.   Marking my progress in the stack of tomes I translocated forthwith and assayed to enjoy a little entertainment. 

The Propspinners affairs are often themed.  The theme for this one was sports.  I really had no sporting attire in the sense of team uniforms and such, but  I did have a handsome waistcoat and trousers; and so, I declared myself as representing the sport of billiards.  I partook in lively conversation and enjoyed the musical mixes presented by the automatonic band engine.  Suddenly a largish box appeared on the dance floor beside me making an awful grinding racket.  What infernal device was this?  It turned out to be a Tardis, and who should emerge from this infernal contraption than a vision of loveliness arrayed in tight leather breeches and loose fitting light grey top, and with white, white hair the match of my own.

Now there’s a woman who knows how to make an entrance, thought I.  She stood to the side merely surveying the room.  I made so bold as to approach her, thinking to engage her in pleasant conversation.  ‘Ere the night was over I was utterly fascinated by this strong, yet tender young woman.  We agreed to meet the next night and throughout the ensuing week we have been all but inseparable.  Who is this Lady who has so completely snared the Tiger?  Who is the Beauty that holds the heart of the Beast?  It is Caladon Rae.   Alas, I have found the one for whom to forsake all others.  In her I find my soul’s rest.  If this is ruin, then let me be ruined, but I suspect rather that I have my salvation at hand.  Salvation from a life of pointless, disconnected solitude into one of loving, sharing, and being loved.

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