Random Shoes.

Found: June 26th, 2007

The average life is full of near misses and absolute hits, of great love and small disasters.

It's made up of banana milkshakes, loft insulation, and random shoes.

It's dead ordinary and truly truly amazing.

What you've got to realize is it's all here now.

So breathe deep and swallow it whole because take it from me, life just whizzes by then all of a sudden it's...

- Eugene Jones

Modern words of wisdom.

Found: May 10th, 2007

I have no idea who penned this observation, but as far as I'm concerned the author is DEAD-ON with their outlook.

Share and Enjoy.

We have taller buildings, but shorter tempers; wider freeways, but narrower viewpoints; we spend more, but have less;we buy more, but enjoy it less.

We have bigger houses and smaller families; more conveniences, but less time; we have more degrees, but less common sense; more knowledge, but less judgment; more experts, but more problems.

We spend too recklessly, laugh too little, drive too fast, get too angry too quickly, stay up too late, get up too tired, read too seldom, watch TV too much and pray too seldom.

We have multiplied our possessions, but reduced our values.

We talk too much, love too seldom and lie too often.

We've learned how to make a living, but not a life; we've added years to life, not life to years. We build more computers to hold more information, to produce more copies than ever, but have less communication; we've become long on quantity, but short on quality.

We've been all the way to the moon and back, but have trouble crossing the street to meet the new neighbor.

We've conquered outer space, but not inner space; we've done larger things, but not better things, we've cleaned up the air, but polluted the soul, we've split the atom, but not our prejudice; we write more, but learn less; plan more, but accomplish less.

We've learned to rush, but not to wait; we have higher incomes; but lower morals; more food but less appeasement; more acquaintances, but fewer friends; more effort but less success.

These are the times of fast foods and slow digestion; tall men and short character, steep profits, and shallow relationships.

These are the times of world peace, but domestic warfare; more leisure and less fun; more kinds of food, but less nutrition. These are the days of two incomes, but more divorce; of fancier houses, but broken homes.

These are days of quick trips, disposable diapers, throwaway morality, one-night stands, over-weight bodies, and pills that do everything from cheer, to quiet, to kill.

It is a time when there is much in show window, and nothing in the stockroom.

The Irony of Love.

Found: November 4th, 2006

This drifted to me from the far off reaches of the web. I have no idea who wrote it, when, or from where it originally came from.

Share and Enjoy.

Loving the right person at the wrong time,
having the wrong person when the time is right
and finding out you love someone right after
that person walks out of your life...

and sometimes, you think you're already over a person,
but when you see them smile at you,
you'll suddenly realize that you're just pretending
to be over them just to ease the pain of knowing that
they will never be yours again...

for some, they think that letting go is one way
of expressing how much they love that person...
in my opinion, some are afraid to see the one they love
being held by someone else...

most relationships tend to fail not because
the absence of love. love is always present.
it's just that one was being loved too much and the
other was being loved too little...

as we all know that the heart is the center of the body
but it beats on the left. maybe that's the reason
why the heart is not always right...

most often we fall in love with the person we think we love
but to only discover that for them
we are just for passing time. while the one who truly
loves us remains either a friend or a stranger...

so here's a piece of advice;
let go when you're hurting too much.
give up when love isn't enough.
and move on when things are not like before...

For sure there is someone out there
WHO WILL LOVE YOU EVEN MORE.

Working through the muttle in my mind and heart.

Found: October 14th, 2006

I was doing some soul cleaning today. I was going though an old journal of mine, where I would write ideas and such. I came across an entry way back in 8/1/2002. I did not write this, but I did find it floating in the twisting nether of the cyberspace. If anyone knows who wrote this please tell me, as I have always loved it.

Remember this and keep it in your heart. You don't choose Love, Love chooses you. All you can really do is accept it for all its' mystery, when it comes into your life. Feel the way it fills you to overflowing, then reach out and give it away. Give back to the person who brought it to you. Give it to others who are poor in spirit. Give it to the world around you in any way you can. Love has its' own season, and it's own reasons for coming and going. You cannot bribe it or coerce it or even reason it into staying. If it chooses to leave from your heart or from the heart of your lover, there is nothing you can do and nothing you should do. Be glad it came to live for a moment in your life. If you keep your heart open, it will surely come again.

I got this attached to a pirated MP3.

August 30th, 2006

Ok, I thought instead of the usual ASCII-inspired artwork you normally get with these files, I thought I'd share my view on CD piracy with those who have downloaded this file.

Surprisingly, I don't condone media piracy in any way. If artists have made something that is enjoyable to others they should be paid for it, and the large CD/DVD collection which I have legitimately purchased is proof that I am more than willing to do so.

Now. If most of the money that I paid went to the artists (which in this country is considerable!), that'd be fine by me. But it doesn't. It goes to agents, publicists, record companies, distribution companies etc. Which to a certain extend is also ok; they do their part in making the artist's work available to the public and should be compensated for it accordingly.

However. What I do mind in the extreme is the corporate fatcats who own these various companies and whose only goal in life is to make more money than they will be able to spend in a lifetime. Sony. CBS. MCA. RCA. BMG. Whoever. The ones 'behind the scenes' who don't actually do any real work except for keeping record prices at an inflated level way beyond the actual manufacturing/distribution cost.

I'm one of those people who doesn't earn a lot of money. I'm not stupid, but I've chosen a life path that doesn't involve the accumulation of wealth. I enjoy listening to music but I'm fed up with having to pay over the odds for something that cost very little to make after the initial outlay.

Make CDs and DVDs cheaper to buy and people will choose to buy them over downloading an inferior quality product over the internet. Everybody loves having a nice shiny CD case with a booklet.

Hey, BMG, if you make a billion less this year, will you really notice? ;)

Edge of Darkness

SAMPLE

October 1, 1924

Detective O'Rourke was sitting hunched over a large black typewriter. His large frame was twisted and he'd obviously been at this task for some time. "God I hate writing up suicides."

Detective Johnson leaned back in his chair crumpled a piece of paper and threw it at O'Rourke. "Shaddup, Mike. You busted your balls walking the streets for seven years just so you could 'do' paperwork. So you could quit walking the beat."

"Nah, I liked walking the beat. Don't get me wrong - usually I like this job, but this case just ain't my thing. Guy friggin' hanging himself in front of his kids. Jesus. It just ain't right. Anyway, I'm going home. S'been a long day, and I can finish off dear Walter's report tomorrow. Captain Baker isn't in till noon, right?"

"Yup. He's still in New York. G'night, Mikey."

"Fred, you know I hate it when you call me that. Keep it up and I'll break yer arse. Now good night." He kicked himself back from his desk, glanced remorsefully at the dozen or so case files he had open, and pulled on his jacket. 'Overworked and underpaid', he thought to himself as he descended the steps to the lobby. "Friggin' strike a few years back accomplished nothing," he mumbled to himself as he left the building.

Hoisting his barrel chested body into his old car, he pulled out of the lot and headed uptown. "C'mon, old thing," he said while patting the dash of the sputtering old Model T, "just get me through this winter and we'll retire you." The car clanked and rattled past Murphy's, and O'Rourke could see that the lights were on and the regulars were probably having a few. 'Not tonight', he thought to himself. He was tired and though he wouldn't mind a nip, the thing he wanted most was sleep.

O'Rourke pulled the car into his driveway, and as he turned off the headlamps and engine he thought the house looked strangely dark. 'Kids are in bed early', he thought. Pulling out his pocket watch, he noticed that it was nearly 10:30. Not so early. Sighing heavily, he unlocked his front door and clambered into the house.

"Mike?" came a voice from the kitchen.

"Yes dear, I'm home. Long day. Kids are all down, are they?"

His wife stepped into the dark entranceway where he was hanging his coat and taking off his shoes. Her head barely topped one of his meaty shoulders, and she looked small enough for O'Rourke to drop into one of his pockets. "Jennifer, what's wrong?" he asked, seeing the look of concern etched in her delicate but aging features.

"Rupert Merriweather needs you. He's in the hospital. St. Mary's Hospital in Arkham called for you tonight. Apparently he's been asking for you, and he wants you to visit tomorrow at 1pm."

Rupert Merriweather. One of his grandfather's old friends. O'Rourke walked to the well-lit kitchen and sat at the table. Jennifer sat down across from him, reached out and gently touched his head. "Remember him? He was your grandfather's friend back in the old days. When poppy was still working. They said he's dying, Mike."

Mike looked intently at her. "Rupert saved poppy's life one time. That's how they became friends. As a boy I remember old Rupert and grandpa hunting together up in Maine. Christ, I haven't seen him in 15 years. How long does he have?"

"I don't know. I didn't speak with him, and the attendant simply said that Rupert had to meet with you. You'll have to go tomorrow. I'll call work for you in the morning so you can take the car first thing."

"Yeah... thanks, honey. God. Rupert's dying. Why does he want to talk to me? I was practically a kid last time I saw him. And poppy, well, no one's seen him in five years... maybe Merriweather knows something. I'm definitely going." He stood up and headed for the door. "I've got to clear my head. It's all-full of shit from work. This could be important."

"Say hello to Dick Murphy for me. Tell him to tell his wife she can borrow my sewing machine next week. Don't be out late, honey." With that she kissed him goodnight and disappeared up the stairs.

He called after her, "What the hell makes y'think I'm going to the pub? Jesus woman, I'm just going to get some fresh air. I'll be back before you're asleep." Putting his shoes and coat back on, O'Rourke went out the car, cranked it started, and drove straight down to Murphy.

The Awakening.

Found: August 8th, 2005

Found floating through the flotsom and jetsom of the the cyber world, and cut and pasted for your enjoyment here. I have no idea who wrote it, when, or from where it originally came from.

Share and Enjoy.

A time comes in your life when you finally get it. When in the midst of all your fears and insanity you stop dead in your tracks and somewhere the voice inside your head cries out - ENOUGH!

Enough fighting and crying or struggling to hold on. And, like a child quieting down after a blind tantrum, your sobs begin to subside, you shudder once or twice, you blink back your tears and through a mantle of wet lashes you begin to look at the world through new eyes.
This is your awakening. You realize that it's time to stop hoping and waiting for something to change, or for happiness, safety and security to come galloping over the next horizon. You come to terms with the fact that he or she is not Prince Charming or Cinderella and you are not either and that in the real world there aren't always fairy tale endings (or beginnings for that matter). And that any guarantee of "happily ever after" must begin with you, and in the process a sense of serenity is born of acceptance.

You awaken to the fact that you are not perfect, and that not everyone will always love, appreciate or approve of who or what you are and its OK. (They are entitled to their own views and opinions.) And you learn the importance of loving and championing yourself, and in the process a sense of newly found confidence is born of self-approval.

You stop bullshitting and blaming other people for the things they did to you (or didn't do for you) and you learn that the only thing you can really count on is the unexpected. You learn that not everyone will always be there for you, and that it's not always about you. So, you learn to stand on your own and to take care of yourself and in the process a sense of safety and security is born of self-reliance.

You stop judging and pointing fingers, and you begin to accept people as they are, and to over look their shortcomings and human frailties and in the process a sense of peace and contentment is born of forgiveness.

You realize that much of the way you view yourself, and the world around you, is a result of all the messages and opinions that have been ingrained into your psyche. And you begin to sift through all the shit you've been fed about how you should behave, how you should look, how much you shouldn't weigh, what you should wear, where you should shop, what you should drive, how and where you should live, what you should do for a living, who you should sleep with, who you should marry, what you should expect of a marriage, the importance of having and raising children, or what you owe your parents.

You learn to open up to new worlds and different points of view. And you begin reassessing and redefining who you are and what you really stand for. You learn the difference between wanting and needing, and you begin to discard the doctrines and values you've outgrown, or should never have bought into to begin with, and in the process you learn to go with your instincts. You learn to distinguish between guilt and responsibility, and the importance of setting boundaries and learning to say NO.

You learn that the only cross to bear is the one you choose to carry, and that martyrs get burned at the stake. Then you learn about love. Romantic love and familial love. How to love, how much to give in love, when to stop giving, and when to walk away. You learn not to project your needs or your feelings onto a relationship. You learn that you will not be more beautiful, more intelligent, more lovable, more handsome, or important because of the man or woman on your arm or the child that bears your name.

You learn to look at relationships as they really are and not as you would have them be. You stop trying to control people, situations, and outcomes. You learn that just as people grow and change, so it is with love. And you learn that you don't have the right to demand love on your terms. Just to make you happy. And, you learn that 'alone' does not mean lonely. And you look in the mirror and come to terms with the fact that you will never be a size 5 or a perfect 10 and you stop trying to compete with the image inside your head and agonizing over how you "stack up." You also stop working so hard at putting feelings aside, smoothing things over, and ignoring your needs. You learn that feelings of entitlement are perfectly OK. . . and that it is your right to want things that you want. And that sometimes it is necessary to make demands. You come to the realization that you deserve to be treated with love, kindness, sensitivity, and respect, and you will not settle for less. And you allow only the hands of a lover who cherishes you, to glorify you with his or her touch. And in the process you internalize the meaning of self-respect.

And you learn that your body really is your temple.

You begin eating a balanced diet, drinking more water, and taking more time to exercise. You learn that fatigue diminishes the spirit and can create doubt and fear, so you take more time to rest. And, just as food fuels the body, laughter fuels our soul, so you take more time to laugh and to play.

You learn that, for the most part, in life you get what you believe you deserve. And that much of life is a self-fulfilling prophecy. You learn that anything worth achieving is worth working for, and that wishing for something to happen is different from working toward making it happen. More importantly, you learn that in order to achieve success, you need direction, discipline, and perseverance.

You also learn that no one can do it all alone and its OK to risk asking for help. You learn that the only thing you must truly fear is the great robber baron of all time: FEAR itself. You learn to step right into and through your fears, because you know that whatever happens you can handle it, and to give in to fear is to give away the right to live life on your terms.

You learn to fight for your life and not to squander it living under a cloud of impending doom. You learn that life isn't always fair, you don't always get what you think you deserve, and that sometimes bad things happen to unsuspecting, good people. On these occasions you learn not to personalize things. You learn that God isn't punishing you or failing to answer your prayers. It's just life happening. And you learn to deal with evil in its most primal state - the ego.

You learn that negative feelings such as anger, envy, and resentment must be understood and redirected, or they will suffocate the life out of you and poison the universe that surrounds you.

You learn to admit when you are wrong and to build bridges instead of walls. You learn to be thankful and to take comfort in many of the simple things we take for granted, things that millions of people upon the earth can only dream about a full refrigerator, clean running water, a soft warm bed, a long hot shower. Slowly, you begin to take responsibility for yourself. By yourself, and you try to make yourself a promise to never betray yourself and to never ever settle for less than your heart's desire. And you hang a wind chime outside your window so you can listen to the wind. And you make it a point to keep smiling, to keep trusting, and to stay open to every wonderful possibility.

Finally, with courage in your heart and with God by your side, you take a stand, you take a deep breath, and you begin to design the life you want to live as best as you can.

SIGIMUNDIS – Goblin rogue and sausage lover.

SAMPLE

The name is Sigimundis and I am a goblin. You know, green, small, highly unstable, and damn vicious. I don't usually do assassinations. After all, I'm a rogue not a killer. I'm after people's possessions, not their lives.

Excuse me; I am getting ahead of myself a bit now. I started out just stealing to make it through a day in the dregs of the city of Ravenhelm. It is a rather large city near the Krickback Mountains. Before the League of Thieves tweaked and molded my unique skills I was just a filthy street gobby. Now I am part of an elite four goblin squad of operatives within the League.

That sounds really official and impressive doesn’t it? Whatever... I was the best rogue they ever had, and simply excelled in the daily training and skill challenges. I also picked up various other trades from the members of the League. I absorbed everything from explosives, potion making, poisons, and trap construction to knitting. Yeah, I said knitting… even a rogue needs warm socks you know.

I learned some other tricks from them also, though of a decidedly different nature. Like how to fight, and kill. Your average rogue isn't cut out for confrontation and combat, but I like to think I can hold my own. That is enough about me for now, on to the meat of my tale.

I owed a favor to the guy. He was an old friend turned Ravenhelm Mage. I met Vainamoinen during a bachelor party for a ranger pal long ago. I move in odd circles, I know, but stick with me. I agreed to the job to thank him for not turning me in when Vainny joined the magic-conjuring wackos. He wanted to me to eliminate Rexnard Grogan, a major player in city government and a big fat obstacle in the Order of Mages bid for power. It's not as if he did it to get in good with his superiors; they would never know about it. The rules of the Order prohibit him from even speaking to anyone in the League. He did it out of sheer fanaticism and love for the Mages. I can't help but admire that. Plus he had to have known I was the best goblin for the job. I guess it goes to show you that even the Mages have their dark side, but not too dark. He's probably still meditating about it, maybe drinking, or actually both. You have to love a drunk wizard… you simply have to. Okay, back to the mission.

Encounter in N'gah-Kthun.

Told during a festival for T'pari-Githyanki...

It was a twilit grotto of enormous height, stretching away farther than any eye could see. A subterraneous world of limitless mystery and horrible suggestion stretched before us. There were buildings and other architectural remains - in one terrified glance we saw a weird pattern of etchings, a savage circle of monoliths, and a low domed T'Skrang ruin - but all of these were dwarfed by the ghoulish spectacle presented by the general surface of the ground. For yards around the group extended an insane tangle of bones… Human, T'Skrang, Elf, Dwarf, and Windling. Like a foamy sea they stretched, some fallen apart but others wholly or partially articulated as skeletons. The skeletons were invariably in postures of demonic frenzy, either fighting off some menace or clutching other forms with cannibal intent. None in Barsaive could conceive a scene more wildly incredible, or more grotesque than the twilit grotto through which we seven staggered.

It was the antechamber of Hell, and poor Zarniwoop began to vomit when Gargravarr told him that some of the skeletons were partially digested. After sloughing down a few steps amidst the gnawed bones, we saw that there was an unknown light ahead. We followed the mystic phosphorescence for what seemed like days. We descended, deeper and deeper into the Kaer. A few steps more and our breaths were literally snatched from us by what we saw. So literally that Zarniwoop the youngest Nethermancer, actually fainted in the arms of Vroomfondel, who stood dazed behind him. Quordlepleen, his plump face utterly white and flabby, simply cried out inarticulately. Whilst I think that what I did was gasp or hiss, and covered my eyes. The T'Skrang behind me, G'Gug'Vruntt the only one of the group older than I - croaked the hackneyed "My God!" in the most cracked voice I have ever heard. Of the seven T'Skrang, only Zarquon retained his composure, a thing more to his credit because he was leading the group and must have seen it first.

We noted the strange inscriptions and unknown alter designs only briefly. Three of the "Vl'Hurgs" or should I say "The Ancients" had already seen us. Prime attention was paid to the momentous being behind the central altar. Within seconds, Zarquon had the Vl'Hurg leader - Necron - restrained with a magical barrier. G'Gug'Vuntt thus began weaving a spirit portal to banish the horrors. The rest of us took defensive points around the great altar.

The next part is a little hazy- forgive me, but my memory is not what it was - All I remember is the sound of blood curdling screams and the intense heat and the blinding flash of the Astral Gate closing.

It is a wonder that any T'Skrang among us lived, and kept his sanity through that hideous day of discovery... WE DID NOT STOP ALL OF THEM.

The Ancients and their Dark Horsemen search us out. They hunt even during sleep and consume, eternally famished. They are coming, may the powers of the Netherworld protect me, and those of the Brotherhood.

T'Laan-Yooden Vranx - Githyanki

Visions of Madness.

The dreams themselves were at first merely strange, but they are quickly becoming more haunting now. The visions always begin with a brilliant flash of light and the nauseating odor of decay. Mammoth corridors of stone begin to blur as I soar past at an unknown speed. The tight choking air surrounds my head; it's painfully hard to catch my breath. A burst of light sweeps up and down gigantic inclining planes of the same monstrous stonework I glimpse. Another blinding flash occurs and I see an enormous vaulted chamber whose lofty carvings are well lost in the swirling shadows overhead. The dark granite masonry is of a monstrous type, convex and concave blocks intermingle in explicit lines of a sexual nature. Colossal, round windows and high arched doors seem to hang on the walls like archaic photos.

Pedestals or tables, each as tall as the height of an ordinary room scatter the chamber. Vast shelves of dark wood line the walls, holding volumes of immense size with strange hieroglyphics on their spines. The exposed stonework is sleek, polished, and almost oily to the touch. The stonework also holds curious inscriptions, always in curving mathematical and geometric designs. The same characters are deeply chiseled into the gargantuan books. Guttural chatter echoes from some unknown location high above the room. There are no chairs, but the tops of the vast pedestals are littered with books, papers, and what seem to be writing materials - oddly figured jars of purplish metal and rods with stained tips. Some of them contain great globes of luminescent crystal that serve as lamps.

The windows are glazed, and latticed with stout evil-looking bars. The floor is an enigma of massive octahedral flagstones. No stairs are anywhere to be seen, and no hall or passageway is less than thirty feet wide. Some of the buildings tower in the sky for thousands of feet. There are almost endless leagues of the giant structures, each in its own rare garden.

Mysterious gardens, some which unfurl for hundreds of feet, surround the titanic buildings. The exotic gardens are terrifying in their strangeness. Bizarre and unfamiliar forms of vegetation creeping over broad paths lined with morbid statues. Abnormal fern-like growths overpower the area. Among them rise great trees, their foul black trucks tower to fabulous heights. Huge insects of a ghastly, alien nature buzz and flutter past. Some of the massive bugs, look large enough for transportation. Grotesque dark-blue shrubs and small, colorless flowers speckle the scene in patterns far beyond imagination. The aroma within the garden is amazingly sweet, almost too thick and sickening to even breathe. Throughout the surrounding area hovers an inexplicable aura of menace and concentrated evil.

Located in certain places are enormous, dark, cylindrical towers which climb far above any of the other structures. They appear to be of a totally unique nature and show signs of extreme age and dilapidation. They are built of an odd type of square-cut sable stone, and taper slightly toward their rounded tops. Nowhere in any of them can a slim trance of windows be found.

The skies are always moist and cloudy, sometimes cataclysmic lighting and tremendous rainstorms occur. The moon’s surface is coated in aberrant, inhuman shapes. The sun is also strange, abnormally large and of an unfamiliar tint. When the night sky is clear, which is very rarely, the visible constellations are irrefutably not of this Earth. The far horizon is always misty and indistinct, but great jungles of unknown tree-ferns can sometimes be seen. I stare at the foliage of the trees, as they wave hypnotically in the noxious vapors of the sticky atmosphere.

The boundless, steamy sea expands beyond the colossal stone pillars of the fantastic city of domes and arches. Great shapeless suggestions of life move within its womb. Here and there, the surface undulates with inconceivable water spouts and horrifying masses of Sargasso. A blinding tempest of light, I awaken in the dark, silent confines of my room.

Will the strange and haunting visions ever stop? I fear for my life... and my sanity.