Productive Musings

originally posted March 12, 2007

I have kept my own counsel of late, spending an increasing amount of time in the halls of Samsara. I sought the quiet there, the solitude. Which is odd. It was once a very busy place. We were, on the surface of it, a haven for artists and craftsmen. Truthfully, however, our doors had been open to most. A Physician and his free companion, even, had deigned to live within our walls. Which reminds me. I need to corral the coffle and take them for an annual once over. I am starting to digress. Samsara. I have spent the last two hands here for her solitude. I needed the time to write, to hone the dialogue of the next production. I still do not have the final scenes written, but I am fairly certain the direction I will take. I haven't stayed completely away from the Boarding House. I still have a business to run, to tend to, but I have entrusted Mathor and Darwin to handle the day to day affairs. As the Waiting Hand approaches, I find my mind wandering a bit too much to deal with the day to day management of two domiciles. They are good bitches, for the most part, I don't suspect either of the two of them have had much difficulty keeping them in line. I have not, at any rate, been informed of any extraordinary recalcitrance. I think I will belt them all during the Waiting Hand. It was not an issue last year as we were afield of Ar, traveling to our eventual destination of the Sardar, but it is too grand a distraction, lovely whores, for the men of Ar at a time when reflection is the order of the day. There is less monetary profit in reflection, but wealth of other means seems to find its way to the man who takes the time to consider the course of his life. Yes, I think I will belt them all. From the bottom whore to the first girl.
I was out early this morning...or late last evening, depending upon your point of view, taking a walk as the first rays of Lar-Torvis warmed the stones. I was pleasantly surprised to see that I was, indeed, nominated for the position of Magistrate of the People. There was my name, the name of a Poet, a fairly low caste, in contention for a position in the political arena. It gives me pause, but the position was created to give a voice to those who share my status of low caste. I wonder what qualifies me for such a task, but then I wonder, too, who better?