http://anarchocyclist.ca/


A neat Canadain blog with lots to say, lots of articles on cycling and some great perspectives on bikes vs Cars. Well worth looking through. I Believe he is based in Vancouver BC, based on some of the references. Keep Riding because one more bike is one less car.

This top picture is A three generation picture. My Dad me And Owen




Just a few pictures of my Son, Owen Christopher. born may 29 at 8:14, he is a big lad 9lb 15oz and 22 inches long. I will post more later but for now I'd like you to welcome Owen to the show.

That crazzy critter in the last picture is Coconut Our wee Ferret.

Heromachine is a cool little online free sample program of Heromachine 2. I used it to make this charactor portrait.


It does not have everything I want it to. IE I don't like the short sword but it was the only one they had. but it's the free sample program. I think it's pretty cool.

Needs more poses too.

yearning

I just listened to Ben Harpers Morning yearning off of both sides of the gun. It's a beatiful song and strangly aproprete for 5am. When I'm wanting to go home to my future wife and soon to be mother of my child.

the last two stansas of the song our just beautiful

Another day, another chance to get it right
must I still be learning
baby crying kept us up all night
with her morning yearning

Like a summer rose, I'm a victum of the fall
but am still returning
your love's the warmest place the
sun ever shines
my morning yearning

this put me in the mind to write with the realisation that
I'm waiting

I'm waiting
to learn well the time it turns
and Soon I'm going to be a father

I'm waiting to see
what it means to me when I hold it in my arms
I can't express how it feels in my chest

And I'm waiting for the words

There's tears behind my eye's but I don't want to cry
because Then I can't see the skys, or the ink on the page.
So I'm waiting to realise to release with a sigh
and let go

I'm waiting to be next to you
My future is closer my feelings are true.
there's a lump in my throat that won't die
So I'm waiting to realise

I'm waiting for her pain to go away
for the creation of a brand new day
I'm waiting with pride and with joy
for the new baby girl or boy

I'm waiting for the truth that is spring
and everything that it will bring
fitting in with the cyle of seasons
there is, there is a reason

I'm waiting in a curious mode
it's like standing on the edge of my toes
my heart feels like it's ready to burst
not like a ballon but like a flower at first
inside the seed then inside the closed bud or blossem
I can feel the changes inside and around me
and the feeling is awesome.

I'm waiting to relax with two heads on my chest
I think this is pure bliss with an x
Exclamation or exaltation
something that says it best

I'm waiting
To find out what comes next
For I dont know what to expect
So I guess I'll just wait with my smile intact
I'm waiting for Berkano
I'm waiting for birth

the vegtable orchestra from the bard war at winter war. A whole lot of fun, and a lot of laughs.

Charactor for encounters in eberon

Here's the charactor I'm going to be playing in The PBP game encounters in eberon
His charactor sheet is here

Feuer Obsidian

"My name is Feuer obsidian, you are welcome to sit by this fire"

Uses the spear tip of his urgosh to knock the wood down before adding more. This causes sparks to rise up in front of his face

"So you have come here to learn my history, I Suppose after all that has happened, and you being who you are you have a right to know. I may find it hard to tell at points but once I start don't interupt, it's been a long time since I thought about my past, and the memorys burn like blue flame."


I grew up in a medeum sized dwarven hold, My family was good to me and father worked the mines with pride. My mother was one of our best traders. When i Was young about 17 I made friends with the Smith, he took me in and Aprenticed me. My main job was to work his bellows, and watch and learn. I loved working beside that forge learning how to keep the fire at the right temperature, it's diferent colours and meanings, but I digress. I admit I was no good at metal smithing myself to much of a cluts I supoose. He used to tell me that An ogre zombie would trip less then me.
Mother always made trips to villages, we'd all go aloung to help, When I was about 25 we were going on the first long trip of the year after the thaw. 3 or 4 wagons loaded to the nines. We were attacked ....I don't know who or what attacked us because As I ran to help, the wagon Collapsed. I Was buried under a stack of stones. The wagon caught fire and burned down around me. When I crawled out what ever had attacked us had taken what it wanted and gone, Everyone was dead... my Family slaghterd, that fire had saved my life but It had left me with burn scars on my arms that would never leave. I did not know where I was or what way to go.
I was hungry and in great pain and as Night decended I began to fear that I might never
see Home again. I saw a light in the distance, it flickered. I approched it with caution however the elf who's campfire it was Laughed at my attempt at sneeking. About as silent as an eleaphant you are he told me. He Explained that his fire was mine to share and before the night was over he had taken me in.
The Elf was A priest of "the flame in the night" He healed most of my wounds and After hearing what had happened he took me under his tutalege. For 5 years he taught me the way of the flame, the rituels of the order and the daily life of a priest of the flame. On the night of my 30th birthday The goddes inside the fire, She who is the true flame in the darkness Gave me a gift. She showed me how to produce flame from nothing, to make flames dance on my fingertips and how to hold flame in my hands without burning. using only my prayors.
When I showed the elf he was overjoyed, He said I had been chosen to spread the flame, he said he knew it would happen one day I had been granted the internal flame. He showed me the pipe ritual, how to gather and dry the herbs, mix and prepare them. Then he taught me how to use the internal flame to hurt and to heal. He gave me This holy symbol A silver circle inscribed with a flaming moon. And then he sent me out into the world.
I needed to go back to my home, I longed for the feel of stone walls that were carved. So I set forth for my hold. Aloung the way I shared my campfire with any who would or needed the heat and the light. I taught the way of fire to those who wished to learn. When I finealy got back to the hold of my birth, the smith was awestruck. The news of our caravans destruction had gotten back to the hold and I had been believed dead. He took me back into his service for a number of years. but without the cleaver fingers he controlled I could not be a smith. I could not make beauty in steel. But I learned how to fight with A proper Dwarven urgosh, and convinced the smith to make me a proper suit of armour and a special urgosh that would hold a torch above the axe head. At the age of 42 I set out from the hold, knowing it was not my home any more.

I am still following the way of the flame, and protecting those in need.

Details of his religion "the Flame in the night" will follow as well

Be patiant thank you

blatent metaphor

I saw a metaphore lieing on the sidewalk today
lieing underneath the coliseum Station overpass
White as the fresh fallen snow egcept for one spot
where it was marred by the colour of road salt.
apon it's broken neck

I saw a metaphore lieing at my feet
I resisted the urge to move it or change it's position
It did not stare at me, it did not move
yet it was powerfull
and True

I saw a metaphore laying broken on the ground
Feathers smooth as sky at least to my eyes
it no longer coo's or makes any noise egcept true silance
but that is muffled by the road, is it two lanes or four?
and what price do we pay for gas?

I stoped to look at a metaphore today
And I write this because most people would have walked by
looking straight ahead at there destination
and missed the message being screamed
but who is screaming?

Please I ask you Remember the Metaphore
(in hounour of the roadkill dove)