Written By Joscelin
April 29, 2018, 3:20 p.m.(8/22/1008 AR)
It's been an interesting fortnight. A break from commissions, pride in my assistants for managing to put out work that I know is impeccable, then Morrighan surprising me with a stunning dress and a veiled invitation to the Carnival. I say 'veiled' because, well, it had a distinct undertone of 'you better come with me or else' to it.
The Carnival was spectacular, a night of amazing company and singular delights. I met new people, regaled with old friends, and ended it on a very productive note.
The Carnival was spectacular, a night of amazing company and singular delights. I met new people, regaled with old friends, and ended it on a very productive note.
Written By Joscelin
April 29, 2018, 3:13 p.m.(8/22/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Magpie
Lottie's a brilliant baker/cook. You should hire her.
Written By Joscelin
April 27, 2018, 10:55 p.m.(8/19/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Kima
[There's nothing written, a sketch of a dress made entirely of gold chains and flowers set with diamonds. Scandalous, really, the figure of a woman beneath the 'dress' made of metal and gems. It's an old drawing, nearly three years old, with the words 'Kima Saik' and 'only she could pull something like this off' written in the bottom corner.]
Written By Joscelin
April 25, 2018, 2:42 p.m.(8/13/1008 AR)
I love this city.
Written By Joscelin
April 25, 2018, 12:13 p.m.(8/13/1008 AR)
It's not a secret.
I have a weakness for puns.
I haven't encountered any good ones in a while.
Is the city up for the challenge? Show me what you've got.
Bad dreams make for gray mornings, but puns? Puns are better than Haze-infused coffee.
I have a weakness for puns.
I haven't encountered any good ones in a while.
Is the city up for the challenge? Show me what you've got.
Bad dreams make for gray mornings, but puns? Puns are better than Haze-infused coffee.
Written By Joscelin
April 25, 2018, 12:59 a.m.(8/12/1008 AR)
I thought I woke
to you right there
no words we spoke
no uttered care.
Your curve of lips,
you said 'Oh Josie'
the cold fingertips
tore right through me.
'Sister,' I prayed,
'Ianthe, it's me.
'You should have -stayed-
'and never gone to sea.'
to you right there
no words we spoke
no uttered care.
Your curve of lips,
you said 'Oh Josie'
the cold fingertips
tore right through me.
'Sister,' I prayed,
'Ianthe, it's me.
'You should have -stayed-
'and never gone to sea.'
Written By Joscelin
April 24, 2018, 2:19 a.m.(8/10/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Eirene
I'm hoping that knowing it's coming -next- year will make it a little less of a frantic stock-and-weep for the Crafters. A few weeks more notice would have been nice as well, everything happened so -quickly-.
(-thought I actually thought this part was fun; how fast -can- you set glass in metal without breaking it?)
(...alright, ready, set, -stitch...!)
(the constant ringing of hammers at all hours)
But yes. Quite lucrative.
(-thought I actually thought this part was fun; how fast -can- you set glass in metal without breaking it?)
(...alright, ready, set, -stitch...!)
(the constant ringing of hammers at all hours)
But yes. Quite lucrative.
Written By Joscelin
April 22, 2018, 3:12 p.m.(8/7/1008 AR)
I recommend to anyone that needs time away to find someone with a boat and go sailing. Just for the day. What a wonderful experience.
Written By Joscelin
April 21, 2018, 3:01 p.m.(8/5/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Torian
No.
Written By Joscelin
April 21, 2018, 12:48 p.m.(8/5/1008 AR)
On occasion, someone crops up in the community with ideas of lining pockets of quickly, and it's rarely the pockets of everyone but rather the originator of the ideas. Cutting corners on costs and quality, undermining old agreements and techniques to get things done quickly.
This almost never works out well.
Change is inevitable. I welcome change. New ideas, better ways of doing but not at the risk of quality, and definitely not at the risk of cutting people out of well-earned coin.
But now and again, there's a merchant who wants to go with lesser materials, or go with faster, wasteful, or more dangerous ways of getting what they need. Impatient and irresponsible, without manners or sense. It's not often. Quality over quantity. Merchant families with empires in trade get there from being wise and observing the markets, having a keen sense of what will be in demand and what should be sent elsewhere to be sold at a higher price even with shipping costs.
It's not as simple as buy and sell and trade and make. Sometimes it's that spark of extra, to sense the change of tide, the shift in interest. I think at times the clothiers have the best sense at this, and maybe it's from tracking the seasons, having coats ready at the perfect moment, cooler clothing when the wind shifts, oiled leathers when the sky opens up.
The blacksmiths are also very good at such predictions but often it's from a social level. They make the armor and weapons for warrior and guard, a hike in orders can mean a variety of things, depending on bow or blade, leather armor or steel.
And then there's the purchase of supplies, food or drink, for business or pleasure or necessity ...
It's fascinating to watch, to put out the fires as they happen. I delegate much of it and most of the time I'm a mediator. I trust the people I work with to take care of themselves. I'm not their mother.
But they look to me with such respect. It's hard not to feel proud.
This almost never works out well.
Change is inevitable. I welcome change. New ideas, better ways of doing but not at the risk of quality, and definitely not at the risk of cutting people out of well-earned coin.
But now and again, there's a merchant who wants to go with lesser materials, or go with faster, wasteful, or more dangerous ways of getting what they need. Impatient and irresponsible, without manners or sense. It's not often. Quality over quantity. Merchant families with empires in trade get there from being wise and observing the markets, having a keen sense of what will be in demand and what should be sent elsewhere to be sold at a higher price even with shipping costs.
It's not as simple as buy and sell and trade and make. Sometimes it's that spark of extra, to sense the change of tide, the shift in interest. I think at times the clothiers have the best sense at this, and maybe it's from tracking the seasons, having coats ready at the perfect moment, cooler clothing when the wind shifts, oiled leathers when the sky opens up.
The blacksmiths are also very good at such predictions but often it's from a social level. They make the armor and weapons for warrior and guard, a hike in orders can mean a variety of things, depending on bow or blade, leather armor or steel.
And then there's the purchase of supplies, food or drink, for business or pleasure or necessity ...
It's fascinating to watch, to put out the fires as they happen. I delegate much of it and most of the time I'm a mediator. I trust the people I work with to take care of themselves. I'm not their mother.
But they look to me with such respect. It's hard not to feel proud.
Written By Joscelin
April 19, 2018, 11:27 p.m.(8/2/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Merek
Didn't expect to be sent a an entry of the whites about myself, not today. Thank you, Merek. I don't think I deserve your friendship or your admiration, but it humbles me nonetheless. Thank you.
Written By Joscelin
April 19, 2018, 6:55 p.m.(8/2/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Aaron
If I was a man or had a man-ish body to cover, I'd only order from Aaron. His work is -spectacular-.
Written By Joscelin
April 19, 2018, 12:51 p.m.(8/1/1008 AR)
I had a dream the other night.
There was a building, a huge building that was more like a palace, except narrow and stacked upward, with stairways only on the outside that wrapped around it. Within was housed every Crafter I knew and many I didn't, living as neighbors, all in one place, and while this made my hair turn white, it was ... it was peaceful. Wonderful. Almost everyone I cared about in one giant 'house'. I never had to go far to hear a voice I longed for, or to catch the scent of a perfume I adored, or to hear the ringing song of hammer to anvil. Not that it's much different where I live now, but all contained, safe inside the same stone-and-timber walls ...
It was contentment, wrapped around me. A lovely dream.
There was a building, a huge building that was more like a palace, except narrow and stacked upward, with stairways only on the outside that wrapped around it. Within was housed every Crafter I knew and many I didn't, living as neighbors, all in one place, and while this made my hair turn white, it was ... it was peaceful. Wonderful. Almost everyone I cared about in one giant 'house'. I never had to go far to hear a voice I longed for, or to catch the scent of a perfume I adored, or to hear the ringing song of hammer to anvil. Not that it's much different where I live now, but all contained, safe inside the same stone-and-timber walls ...
It was contentment, wrapped around me. A lovely dream.
Written By Joscelin
April 19, 2018, 11:23 a.m.(8/1/1008 AR)
It's finally happened. My body is not willing to obey my demands and create.
I saw it coming. Too many endeavors at once, too many promises made and kept, and then, this last. Trauma, maybe, the reaction to too much too soon, my hands shake when I reach for my tools but my mind, my heart, my soul all receive the inspirations Jayus has blessed me with like there's nothing different. A challenge, my instincts tell me, to overcome memory of injury to press on. My heart is ready, but my hands are not.
It's just as well, I suppose. I could use the break and my assistants and apprentices have fared well under my instruction. They use my old designs to keep the shop stocked and ready, with strict instruction to take no outlandish commissions or custom work until I'm ready to do it myself.
I can't remember the last time it's happened, is all, if ever.
Perhaps I should take up a new hobby in the meantime, when I'm [words are scratched out] attending to my very serious duties as Guildmaster.
Perhaps I should take up sailing. Or knitting. I'm no good at sewing, I tried once and Morrighan laughed at me for how often I stabbed myself. Not my kink, I insisted, and ow. Sore fingers are no fun.
I'm open to suggestions. I need a break.
I saw it coming. Too many endeavors at once, too many promises made and kept, and then, this last. Trauma, maybe, the reaction to too much too soon, my hands shake when I reach for my tools but my mind, my heart, my soul all receive the inspirations Jayus has blessed me with like there's nothing different. A challenge, my instincts tell me, to overcome memory of injury to press on. My heart is ready, but my hands are not.
It's just as well, I suppose. I could use the break and my assistants and apprentices have fared well under my instruction. They use my old designs to keep the shop stocked and ready, with strict instruction to take no outlandish commissions or custom work until I'm ready to do it myself.
I can't remember the last time it's happened, is all, if ever.
Perhaps I should take up a new hobby in the meantime, when I'm [words are scratched out] attending to my very serious duties as Guildmaster.
Perhaps I should take up sailing. Or knitting. I'm no good at sewing, I tried once and Morrighan laughed at me for how often I stabbed myself. Not my kink, I insisted, and ow. Sore fingers are no fun.
I'm open to suggestions. I need a break.
Written By Joscelin
April 17, 2018, 12:33 a.m.(7/24/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Reigna
I'm buying you a drink for that one. Well done.
Written By Joscelin
April 13, 2018, 2:40 p.m.(7/17/1008 AR)
I'm really too tired to go through the stack of whites given to me today by one of my shop assistants. Whomever handed them to her, I will find you and kick you in the shins.
What little energy I have at the moment will be for sleeping, even now someone is writing this for me because my current hand-writing would represent literal chicken scratch, and I'm not even looking into untangling the mess of entries on knighthood and cats.
I read that right, didn't I? Yes?
What little energy I have at the moment will be for sleeping, even now someone is writing this for me because my current hand-writing would represent literal chicken scratch, and I'm not even looking into untangling the mess of entries on knighthood and cats.
I read that right, didn't I? Yes?
Written By Joscelin
April 7, 2018, 11:27 p.m.(7/6/1008 AR)
I may need to suck it up and hire a full time personal assistant.
Anyone have any recommendations?
Anyone have any recommendations?
Written By Joscelin
April 6, 2018, 2:45 p.m.(7/3/1008 AR)
The treasure that is Eirene Malvici is a woman we do not deserve; she is too wonderful for this world and I do accept I'm a little medicated saying this. She is a being of goodness and solace and swear words that rival mine. That we never take advantage of her and tell her she's sure of hand and sharp of mouth.
It is good to be home but I need to go back to sleep.
It is good to be home but I need to go back to sleep.
Written By Joscelin
April 5, 2018, 2:47 p.m.(7/1/1008 AR)
[Forwarded from Setarco:]
There's a song I heard at the Inn I'm staying at. It was late and I was grabbing supper before crawling into bed. Rowdy night, but it was with great interest I observed a bard take the small stage, silence coming over the several dozen patrons in attendance.
His cords were soft, he ran his fingertips over the strings of the instrument he played and he sang with a gentle tone:
***
Hey, diggy-din, hey diggy-din, down at the Inn, down at the Inn, down at the Inn!
Hey, diggy-din, hey diggy-din, down at the Inn, everyone's down at the inn!
***
And I should have known things would take a turn; the musician's smile became mischievous, the energy in his hands spinning up and the crowd started to sing along:
***
My lord is a mason, a mason, a mason! Ah, such a fine mason is he!
All day, he lays bricks, he lays bricks, he lays bricks, and at night, he comes home-
***
And here I waited, held my breath because this was purported to be a -family- establishment-
***
-and drinks teeeeeeaaaa!
***
Even the children present sang along. There was laughter. The somber veil of the evening was lifted to reveal a hidden humor, joy and hope in this singular spot, show-cased in impish song. I laughed. I laughed loud, and thought of Ianthe and how she probably knew every word to this diddy.
***
Hey, diggy-din, hey diggy-din, down at the Inn, down at the Inn, down at the Inn!
Hey, diggy-din, hey diggy-din, down at the Inn, everyone's down at the inn!
***
Oh, and there were more verses.
***
My lady is a hostler, a hostler, a hostler! Ah, such a fine hostler is she!
All day she mounts horses, mounts horses, mounts horses,
and at night, she comes home, and-
***
-that hilarious holding of breath; everyone -knows- it's going to be safe, but they all wait with bated lungs, like maybe just this once-
***
-and drinks teeeeaa!
***
It went on and on, and since a lot of these trades are ones of Crafters, I laughed harder than most. Maybe it was just because the song was so new to me.
There was a blacksmith who banged iron.
A jeweler who blew torches.
A weaver who cocked shuttles.
A painter who stroked canvas.
And finally, -finally-, the last verse, sung slower and more measured than the others:
***
My lady's an herbalist! An herbalist, an herbalist! Ah, such a fine herbalist is she!
All day, she drinks tea, drinks tea, drinks tea,
and at night, she comes home-
***
That wait this time was full of so much mirth, giggling was rampant-
***
and goes peeeeeeeeeeee!
***
Yes. My sister would have known ever word of this song. I have no doubt.
[OOC disclaimer: I heard this song sung at an SCA event when I was a kid, it's not mine but I did make up a few of the trades and uh, their activities. Back in the day, jeweler's powered their torches with their own breath, hence the 'blowing'.]
There's a song I heard at the Inn I'm staying at. It was late and I was grabbing supper before crawling into bed. Rowdy night, but it was with great interest I observed a bard take the small stage, silence coming over the several dozen patrons in attendance.
His cords were soft, he ran his fingertips over the strings of the instrument he played and he sang with a gentle tone:
***
Hey, diggy-din, hey diggy-din, down at the Inn, down at the Inn, down at the Inn!
Hey, diggy-din, hey diggy-din, down at the Inn, everyone's down at the inn!
***
And I should have known things would take a turn; the musician's smile became mischievous, the energy in his hands spinning up and the crowd started to sing along:
***
My lord is a mason, a mason, a mason! Ah, such a fine mason is he!
All day, he lays bricks, he lays bricks, he lays bricks, and at night, he comes home-
***
And here I waited, held my breath because this was purported to be a -family- establishment-
***
-and drinks teeeeeeaaaa!
***
Even the children present sang along. There was laughter. The somber veil of the evening was lifted to reveal a hidden humor, joy and hope in this singular spot, show-cased in impish song. I laughed. I laughed loud, and thought of Ianthe and how she probably knew every word to this diddy.
***
Hey, diggy-din, hey diggy-din, down at the Inn, down at the Inn, down at the Inn!
Hey, diggy-din, hey diggy-din, down at the Inn, everyone's down at the inn!
***
Oh, and there were more verses.
***
My lady is a hostler, a hostler, a hostler! Ah, such a fine hostler is she!
All day she mounts horses, mounts horses, mounts horses,
and at night, she comes home, and-
***
-that hilarious holding of breath; everyone -knows- it's going to be safe, but they all wait with bated lungs, like maybe just this once-
***
-and drinks teeeeaa!
***
It went on and on, and since a lot of these trades are ones of Crafters, I laughed harder than most. Maybe it was just because the song was so new to me.
There was a blacksmith who banged iron.
A jeweler who blew torches.
A weaver who cocked shuttles.
A painter who stroked canvas.
And finally, -finally-, the last verse, sung slower and more measured than the others:
***
My lady's an herbalist! An herbalist, an herbalist! Ah, such a fine herbalist is she!
All day, she drinks tea, drinks tea, drinks tea,
and at night, she comes home-
***
That wait this time was full of so much mirth, giggling was rampant-
***
and goes peeeeeeeeeeee!
***
Yes. My sister would have known ever word of this song. I have no doubt.
[OOC disclaimer: I heard this song sung at an SCA event when I was a kid, it's not mine but I did make up a few of the trades and uh, their activities. Back in the day, jeweler's powered their torches with their own breath, hence the 'blowing'.]
Written By Joscelin
April 2, 2018, 11:45 a.m.(6/23/1008 AR)
Relationship Note on Cassius
Well that's one way to look into the local trades potentially damaged by the war. My thanks.
Please note that the scholars may take some time preparing your journal for others to read.