sweet cosmic perfection.

"Your hobby becomes so absorbing that you look for even more ways to make it a part of your regular, workday life. The stars are behind your efforts. This could become another career for you."

thank you leonard for rekindling that spark in me by trying so hard for what you want, and zat for showing me how simple the solution to my problem really is.

it's at times like this the possibilities seem endless, and all of a sudden i'm reminded of how if i just allow myself the courage and nerve, and dare to dream, the whole universe could be rooting for me.

"the heart asks more than life can give because a dream is a wish your heart makes, and dreams are just too big for life that's why they exist only when life stops when we sleep."
-leonard's words of wisdom

I was in my study looking as my butler cleared away my personal effects when the detective walked into the room through the open door, and stood facing my butler’s back as he cleared my table. Receiving no response, Detective Miller cleared his throat, and looked straight at Baddleton with a rather stern expression as the butler turned around.

“Good Lord! There’s been another murder!”

The detective looked rather put out, and raising his hands to display his notebook and pencil, he said, “sorry to disappoint, but for now, all I have are questions, not bodies.”

“Oh,” and Baddleton paused to recompose himself, “fire away then.”

This peaked my interest for I was indeed interested in finding out what information the detective thought I had about the thief to warrant my murder. Sitting in the parlour listening to the detective made me feel an inexplicable sense of unhappiness, that I had been needlessly killed. So sitting myself down on the edge of the table I, well, eavesdropped on the conversation.

“Firstly, do you know anybody who would have wanted your employer dead?”

“No, not really. He was rich and idle, but not really offensive enough to be killed.”

“So you do think that he was killed for the opal.”

“I never thought about it. Now you mention it, I think I can agree with that.”

“Right,” and he paused as he scribbled (I looked over his shoulder) ‘killed for stone’ and underlined that. (I also stepped away in shock when he called my opal a stone, but I shall try to rid myself of such worldly reservations.)

“What’s the history of the stone anyway?”

“Stone?” Baddleton looked almost comical in his look of ignorance, and when it dawned upon him that the detective was referring to the opal he looked ready to wage holy war upon the man who dared insult the riches of the most noble house of Graine. So in cold, ringing tones (that I was very familiar with having received one of his speeches when I tried to renovate the older parts of the mansion) he told the detective how I had come to own the Backworth Opal.

“The Backworth Opal was found by Jason Backworth, Senior, when he was exploring the Australian deserts nine years ago. That expedition, however, was one of the last he was to have, his family fortune being fast dwindled by his young, rash, brutish son, with whom you have already made an acquaintance,” he paused here to think and as much for effect, and the detective was quite furiously scribbling on his notepad.

“The final blow came when Backworth Junior was one day engaged in a drunken brawl with some other fine, young, and most importantly, rich, gentlemen; gentlemen who could afford to place the brute in a cell. So his father had to sell off the opal for a rather low sum to bribe off his son’s accusers, and thus the Backworth Opal landed in Lord Graine’s possession,” he stopped, and then added, as if an afterthought, “and he was rather fond of it, as I recall.”

With a rather large breath the detective finished writing in his notepad and looked up, and said, “that’s a very interesting account. Thank you very much.”

“You’re welcome, detective. I’m afraid that’s about all I can offer. I don’t know anything much more about the theft or the murder.” He fell silent as he looked at my desk, and then he said, “the opal was bought quite some time ago, when we were better off. Now, the Lord Graine has, well, squandered his wealth, and that’s why we’ve had to have them here to auction the opal off. That was rather hard for him to do, sell off his opal. He may have lost his money, but for it he was a changed man.”

“Well thank you once again. And I’ll be on my way then,” the detective made to leave, but stopped and asked, “by the way, what were you doing when I first came in here?”

“Clearing up; this was his study.”

“Clearing up evidence?”

With a dismissive sniff the butler retorted, “no, not really, it’s just the mess that all rich and idle men leave behind. When they fly off for a vacation, when they leave for a cruise, when they die.”

I was rather cross at that.




work-in-progress~Copyright2006TTH~work-in-progress

hello there...

well well...

Brunei was fun... that's about all i can say so far...
as performers for the Sultan's birthday celebrations, we were treated like VIP wherever we went...
that means police escort everywhere we go...
including to the shopping malls...

so there's this one day where we have a roadshow.. like a parade round the streets in a place called Kuala Belait...

the bus ride there's more than an hour.. so i just settle down on the bus and doze off...

and mind you there are 3 countries involved in this particular show in this particular district... and so there's us, and delegates from Indonesia and Jordan...
and that's a grand total of about (i can't remember exactly) 5 trucks, 6 coaches, 3 minivans, 2 cars and 4 police motorcycle escorts...

so.
halfway i get up and i have to pee real bad...
so what do i do...?

i stop the coach and find a place to relieve myself...

and the whole entourage of (i think) 5 trucks, 6 coaches, 3 minivans, 2 cars and 4 police motorcycle escorts...

stops too.

i like to think i was doing us all a favour because when the whole chain of vehicles stopped, everyone unloaded (albeit not as harriedly as me).

well that's a bus ride to remember.

well moving on to other things...

the fireworks used were Japanese Hanabi fireworks...
exceptionally beautiful, not like the stuff you see normally...

apparrently, the stuff that we see here every year may be choreographed and designed by French or goodness-knows-where-else artists, but the gunpowder used all comes form China...

these fireworks, on the other hand, come from Japan...

and they are drop-dead gorgeous...

see here.

there's a lot more... but i think i'll wait for next time...

before leaving for Brunei i picked up something to read while i was there...

"... Cry, the beloved country, for the unborn child that is the inheritor of our fear. Let him not love the earth too deeply. Let him not laugh too gladly when the water runs through his fingers, nor stand too silent when the setting sun makes red the veld with fire. Let him not be too moved then the birds of his land are singing, nor give too much of his heart to a mountain or a valley. For fear will rob him of all if he gives too much."
- Cry, the Beloved Country, by Alan Paton

it's really quite good writing...

next next...

these few days at home have been spent watching Carnivale, a miniseries from HBO...

it's about the two stories of a young man with a gift for healing picked up by a travelling circus and a priest with a dark power as he falls away from his faith...
the first season alone details their stories as they come to realize their individual potential and sets the stage for a cosmic battle between good and evil...

the battle between good and evil part isn't all that new... but the show, with it's plot, all the quirky freakshow characters, layered images, is something really well done...

we'll see if i can get season 2...

well that's about all for this very compressed and strung together glimpse of my life in the past half-a-month or so...