Historia's Books

Second Life readers will have to excuse a diversion from in-world interests, but those of you hopelessly bound to the Eighteenth Century as I am, or who feel misplaced in time, may appreciate this site. One gains much over three centuries of existence; but they are balanced by losses as surely as if kept in a counting house ledger. My losses have been libraries; several, to fire and to water, some to carelessness of their stewards while I was abroad adventuring. One book I have managed to keep was recently noted in Historia's Books, where other old friends are mentioned. Today my library again grows quicker than the space enclosing it, and my shelves groan anew under their burthen.

The Doctor Theophrastus Fluxus

All my time recently has been spent entertaining the remarkable Doctor Theophrastus Fluxus, necromancer and alchemist, arrived from the Orient to perform in my act for The Show Must Go On. Student of Paracelsus and Henry Cornelius Agrippa, she has been in my crypts refining materia prima, containing incompatible opposites in the most violent conflict! I say she, but I am in doubt if this extraordinary individual is indeed a man or a woman. Her diabolic power over the elements of nature appear to have been obtained at some dear price to body, spirit and soul. Work on building is arrested while I attend her preparations for a publick demonstration of her art.

A Sea of Plywood

Tempietto and Orion are buried under several layers of giant plywood prims. The management at Azure Islands was poorly staffed over the weekend, but prompt in removing the eyesore upon receiving a somewhat exasperated complaint.

Magickal Mayhem

To my self-appointed titles of adventurer, raconteur, and architect I now add a fourth: performer of magick. I have agreed to create an act for The Show Must Go On, and have spent this week industriously studying the arcane art of magickal code and daemonic communication. I have learned to summon alchemical diagrammes and set them a-spin. I have learned how to make common objects communicate silently among themselves, vanish and reappear in a different aspect, all in preparation for directing the operation of my stage-pieces without the assistance of a stage crew. I have long known such incantations existed, but survived my first year in this Life without ever opening the pages of that mystical book (it appeared to be Welsh at first glance).
I have conjured a daemonic stage manager, who will command by name the props and stage flats nearby to leap into position or exit offstage, or perform any other small transformation I require, all in concert with my performance.
Having tasted of the fruit of the tree of knowledge, other food is as dust! Summoning and silent suggestion, conjuring illusions and the manipulation of matter at a distance are now within my power. I thirst to know more! The devil himself cannot stop me!

Out of Body Experience

I have recently experienced a sense of not being quite right in my skin - and now have proof in these pictures. I often find myself separated from my attachments, my hair, and most unflattering, my eyeballs. On occasion my upper body chooses to face in the opposite direction that my feet want to go. As I move, I appear to leave trails of scalped heads hanging in the air behind me. As no one else has remarked on my frequently horrifying appearance, I have put it all down to illusion, or perhaps the onset of dementia. This phenomenon normally occurs in the first few minutes after teleporting and will gradually cease the longer I stay in a place.
Do tell me if you notice I have gone out of my skull, won't you?

Fragile Existence

What a perfectly lovely evening I enjoyed last night. Quite by accident I stumbled into the gentle kingdom of Bodhi and met a peaceable pirate named Thim Yifu and a wise practitioner of Tai Chi named Taichi Pontopiddan (do you know your surname descends from one of the first natural historians in Denmark?). Soon we were joined by Tara Yeats and Bee Quatro, and then others, quickly becoming a witty crowd trying to keep our balance on a slippery slope. No Buddhist backsliders here!
But the crowd kept growing so Bee and Thim and I stole away to meditate and chant. It's easier to approach enlightenment when one can control the movement of the sun and cast all into the rosy hues of twilight!
I stole away again to ask Osprey a question about rehearsals (having ignored a pile of correspondence that answered them perfectly well) and some remnant midsummer magic transformed us into moths, with lives just as ephemeral. We flitted through the air over Orion handsome and free, but had to part, too soon, too soon! As the void claimed me the last thing I heard was Mothra-Osprey declaiming: "I just love Second Life!"

Tectophilia

A city awaiting discovery, colonnades and halls, prisons and rooftops, towers and domes. Lend me your heart and I will build a poem like a metropolis. Steal me a peach and I will sing you a song of terraces and orchards.

The Show Must Go On and On

The second performance of the Show Must Go On went on this afternoon on Machmit Island, where the audience was made to feel very welcome and were once again amused by the anticks of its sundry players - do ye have a name for yourselves yet? It afforded me a superb chance to capture acts that I missed in my last post (yet I missed the small woodland animals fleeing violence, as I have a soft spot for such animals and cannot bear to see them suffer).



The audience may look sparse, but that was only because the benches kept complaining about there being no room to sit, and hence we spread out. It was a well-dressed and boisterous crowd.
I crept backstage after the performance and overheard a conversation that leads me to believe we will be treated to future repeat appearances, so if you missed them this time, fear not!
Osprey wants a recitation from me, though I am too old fashioned and dull for such brilliant company, and will perhaps be an entre-acte so that the audiences' pulse might recover a normal rhythm, or put a few of the excitable to sleep. I have promised to think upon it.

Lord and Master of All She Surveys

To the best of my knowledge I have been an original land owner on Orion since the estate was created. Over the past year, most of the land surrounding my modest plot on Orion was bought from their original owners by Fender Estates, ostensibly to offer refuge to small woodland creatures. Instead, large homes were erected that never seemed to be inhabited. I saw nary a patch of fur the entire time I have lived here. Today I discovered this mysterious neighbour had abandoned all his land. Without hesitation I purchased the piece of land immediately to the west, doubling my own holdings.
Suddenly I have a wealth of space and building materials available for new constructions. I hardly know where to begin. Shall I resurrect my villa? Complete the Radcliffe Camera? Enlarge the crypt? Or found a theater?
There is still one more unsold plot between Tempietto and the forest - it's not expensive, but the taxes become onerous - What shall I do?

Tears of the Wicked and the Virtuous

The pit of a theatre is the one place where the tears of virtuous and wicked men alike are mingled. Denis Diderot

The Show Must Go On has inspired me to review my theatre designs. A noble, famous and distinguished company deserves a venue that will inspire the artistic genii of its players, amply accommodate their skilful, refined and diligent performances, and offer their audiences such pleasure and delight in the stands as they take in the memorable spectacles on the boards. It must house large flats and stage mechaniks as illusion might demand, and lighting of various hues and intensity.

Saved by Vaudeville

After days of crashing even before connecting, I clicked on the Show Must Go On poster at SL Art News, and the SLURL opened Second Life to me as if I were returning through the gates of heaven, or called back by the Thibetan Book of the Dead. Proof of the efficacy of prayer. The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was the stage at Machmit Island, and Osprey Therian looming over me larger than life.

Limbo

Shut down, reinstalled, and still as far from Second Life as Dante in Purgatory. I now suspect non-technical obstacles to returning to Life, and though my rationalist Father may turn in his grave to hear me say it, I have begun to pray. But in which direction will those prayers fly while my thoughts remain earthbound?

Adversity

It is good for us to encounter troubles and adversities from time to time, for trouble often compels a man to search his own heart. It reminds him that he is an exile here, and that he can put his trust in nothing in this world. Such things are an aid to humility and preserve us from pride and vainglory.
Banish discouragement from your heart as best you can, and if trouble comes, never let it depress or hinder you for long. At least bear it bravely if you cannot bear it cheerfully.Even if you are reluctant to bear it, and feel indignant, yet control yourself, and let no rash words escape you that may harm others. The violence of your feelings will soon subside and grace return. Be of good heart and steel yourself to endure greater trials. All is not lost, however often you feel tempted or sorely troubled: you are human, not an angel.
To my dear friends: I may be arrested in limbo awhile yet.

The Adventurer's New Clothes

A pretty face and fine clothes do not make character, says the proverb. But one cannot attend the theatre, infamous for its many characters, without a new coat. A coterie of ladies in waiting were generous enough to make a present of the cloth, and I sat with needle and thread these past few evenings. The colour struck my fancy and I thought myself quite dapper, if a little immodest.

Theatrickals

Osprey Therian, Salazar Jack, Enjah Mysterioso Mysterio, and many others performed today at the Pantheon Hall on Info Island. I have watched commedia in Italy, Pulcinello in London and guignol in Lyon, but today's performance, described as vaudeville, featured escaping giant serpents, flame throwing, ballet à la hippopotame, and many other delightful, astonishing and talented acts. A grand time was enjoyed by the audience who rarely kept quiet, and nearly fainted away on several occasions from excitement.

Grafitti

Books and architecture and scribbling about them both.