Peredhil

Feels his eyes cross at the concept of 23 Mintas and 6719 Signes! Does the Happy Dance that his friends would think to seach on Peredhil. I love numbers and statistics.

Good to see you writing again! I think a lot of people feel this way - you encapsulated it eloquently. Some of your stuff reminds me strongly of Pete Townsend of The Who. spelling/grammar/flow suggestions embedded. I have been living my life half asleep, only when I dream could I feel the rage! all these monsters in my soul to weep. My sanity is worth more than chicken feed so what if the crappy job pays a wage? Now the alarm clock screams; I long again to be asleep. Then the torrents of life came, and in circles I was swept. I thought it was just another stage. until I'm drowning in a flood of anguished weeping. they proceed to take my wool, even if I'm the black sheep. even if I don't measure right in the social gage. I'm inefficient because they think my mind is still asleep. So I have my soul sold for $9 -per-hour: cheap. Realizing my insignificance I cling to this wreckage, for petty annoyances I'm broken up and I've wept. The price of social analogy is much too steep and now my life is in disarray, Reality bites, so forever I wish to sleep. The lost of my naivetè, for what did I weep?

You know, I find myself using a new story from you as a reward. "If I get my work done, I get to go read Aardvark's latest." You have a knack for capturing dialogue that sounds realistic.

hastily hugs, then zips out the door to drive children around. In my book - If someone really loves you, cares for you, cares about you, then no matter what you say - it's a topic for discussion, not rejection. Even if the first discussion is, "Why did that hurt me to hear so much?" Part of loving yourself is accepting that some else loves you enough to put up with whatever you say. LL-L, L

He he... Don't hold back - tell her how you REALLY feel! But seriously, not a bad start on the lifelong path of poetry. When you're done writing - double-check the little things to help the reader, for instance, the difference between "your" and "you're" (short for "you are") can cause a reader to stumble in the flow. This read better aloud than just in print, and it wouldn't surprise me if it could be made into a song. I seem to recall that feeling that way was VERY big when I was younger. Tries to remember being young. Keep writing!

A Valentine's present to the world - Look but don't touch! The pretty lady, Bella Donna, is deadly indeed Although scented blossoms are pretty to view. So look, admire, be grateful for life And do try not to stare, For seventeen years old Deadly Nightshade Is a heart-breaker who might not care. Happy Birthday.

Shrieks Sorry. This just reminded me of a very pretentious Boston WASP English Teacher I spent an eternity with one semester.

Hmmm. Both good answers which encapsulate that which I was going to say. Love with your heart but make decisions with your head. Know that you are just as good, and just as bad as everyone else - so respect yourself and allow others to respect you, and respect others for what they do right as well. Believe that you are worthy of respect and love. Believe you have a future. Believe I love you. PereDad

Forgiveness is fine if there is repentence on the other side, and an understanding that forgiveness doesn't remove consequences. Someone can repent sincerely of jumping off a cliff with my teddy bear. I can forgive them for jumping off the cliff with my teddy bear. Unless there is some amazingly merciful intercession, they're still gonna hit the consequences of their choices.

Accidently poors cool water on Brian as he bends forward to read... The corpse lay cold and uncaring Blind eyes open and staring mortal clay returning to the soil Having shuffled off this mortal coil Felt misunderstood and bereft of hope She's overtaken the deadly dope Anticipated death's freedoms released But when she died - all existence ceased...

okay okay. Today, for the first time in nearly four years, I "saw" something well enough to write about it. Definitely a break through moment for me - I thought that part of my talent had gone into permanent hiding.

Wearing a Dallas Cowboys cap and designer chaps to recognize the Texan Rhapsody, Peredhil zips in and decorates the room with Asian New Year memorabilia for traditional elements as well. Happy Birthday Rhapsody! Eighteen is a big step. You're now a proto-adult! Old enough to be drafted and fight for your country, but not old enough to drink alcohol in most states. Hugs and zips away

I am a member of the Pen is Mightier than the Sword. I have wonderful friends. I am alive.

I wish I had the time and energy to do you the justice you deserve on your birthday, but I'm hardpressed just to write this: Happy Birthday Cyril. You've been a constant presence in my prayers for quite some time now. Forty is four times ten, four representing the world and ten representing ordinal perfection, and thus forty is a period of trial or testing. May you confront your test with grace and find peace that doesn't depend on circumstances or other people. Hugs Peredhil

This reminds me of the parental danger of projection - seeing one's own mistakes so firmly in one's children that one misses seeing that the children aren't one's self in younger form, and have the right to make their own mistakes...

Guido burst into Peredhil's study, and began shouting, DAR'S UH MAN A TERRA AT DA PEN!!! Glancing up, Peredhil replied, Of course, a Sexy Sexy Man of Terra, Orlan is at the - Interrupting, the Giant Guinea Pig interjected, "Naw, its not Orlan! And der playin' dat -" Standing to admonish his Bodyguard for so Rudely shouting and interrupting, Peredhil finds himself automatically catching the small purple three-eyed Mage as he flies in through the window, and the two finish in one horrified breath, "NIMBALL™!" Loyal Bodyguard that he is, Guido throws himself at his boss, just as his twin, Nuncio, bursts in the door. Seeing the Nimball™ in the room, Nuncio's well-honed protective instincts kick into action and he throws himself at Peredhil protectively as well. Peredhil ducks, the Guinea Pigs collide with a sickening smack in the air over him, and in a frozen moment of time, all eyes widen as the knowledge of physics reasserts itself in their minds and they realize where six-hundred-and-nine pounds of Giant Guinea Pig is going to fall. Time reasserts itself and the Bodyguards fall onto Peredhil, desk, and chair, with the sounds of splintering and crackling wood and bones. One half-elven arm still is visible through the pile of pigs, holding the Nimball™, who now wears Nuncio's black fedora. The wave of players sweep into the study, unchecked by the normal rules of Politeness and leap for Nimball™. Also colliding. The heap grows, with the Nimball™ being jostled and bounced ever higher, until in a savage display of inhuman strength, the Bodyguards at the almost bottom of the pile THRUST up off Peredhil and send everyone flying. Players shower to the left, right, and center. The revealed Peredhil, as his Ring begins a healing blue glow, weakly whispers, "Welcome Hawk Angel... Ole Peculiar on tab in the Cabaret barroom..." The Nimball™, having been at the top of the pile, rockets out the window with great velocity, still wearing the hat, and lands on..."

This little piece was written for a co-worker. He's the one EVERYONE goes to with techie problems. They always have time for him to fix things - but never time for him to explain how they could do the job themselves... My apologies to people who own Pokemon... ~~~~ Our hero, Ask Ketchum, has recently been hired as an IMO consultant. While Brock chases the secretaries, Ask struggles to fix myriad ADP problems. Team Rocket sneaks into the Director’s closet “This is our best plan yet!” “Right! With the Director’s machine down, Ash will have to leave Pikachu here to power it. Then we’ll have it!” “You’ll get it alright – Meowth!” Minutes later, Ash arrives on the scene “Have no fear, I can handle anything.” The intrepid hero claims stoutly. The beads of perspiration erupting from his forehead give lie to his claim. They shower around him, wetting nothing. “I have no power,” the Legendary Bird Colonel exclaims (multicolored exclamation points radiate from his head), “I have presentation to print for General Mew-Two! Ash kneels before the laptop. “Sir! You have no power!" After ensuring the UPS is plugged in but has no lights, Ash rises. Standing back from the powerless computer, Ash reaches for one of the small poke-balls dangling from his belt. Team Rocket exchange Triumphant Glances and put on electrically insulated gloves. “Poke-Dan – I choose you!” Ash shouts as he throws the ball at the computer. The ball hits the floor and splits. Misty, dressed only in cotton panties, emerges in a bath of light. Her lack of attire reveals that she has less figure than an anorexic teen-aged boy. The Poke-ball spins back to Ash’s waiting hand. Cheeks flaming red, Ash shouts again, “Misty, return!” Misty is sucked back into the ball before she can say anything. The Director suddenly looks very interested in Ash’s balls…depending from his belt. Team Rocket exchange horrified glances. “Not Poke-Dan!” They exclaim together. “How did Ash catch a Poke-Dan?!” Wonders Jessie. “I want a donut,” replies James. “Our plans are screwed again... Meowth,” commiserates Meowth. Without making eye contact with the gathering crowd, Ash snatches another ball from his belt. “Poke-Dan – I choose you!” Ash shouts desperately. Poke-Dan emerges in bath of light and rapidly grows to life-sized. With a wry self-depreciating grin, Poke-Dan faces the computer. “Poke-Dan, Troubleshoot Attack…now!” shouts Ash. The Poke-Dan ambles over to the computer and gazes down at it. His dark eyes dance with repressed humor as he analyzes the situation. Bending over gingerly, he carefully pushes one of the studs on the UPS, turns widdershins thrice, powers-on the laptop, and changes a CMOS setting. The laptop shudders in its docking station reluctantly, sees the Poke-Dan standing before it and smoothly boots immediately. Turning to explain to Ash and the crowd, he is recalled into the Poke-ball by Ash before having a chance to speak. Ash wipes his sweaty brow at how close he came to having to understand something. The Poke-Dan’s Teaching Attack is irresistible. Everyone watching begins leaping up and down in amazement and joy, clapping their hands and kicking their feet outward at angles impossible for normal knees. Team Rocket blasts off again.

Hugs As a fellow Real Life endurer, you'll be in my prayers.

Wow. Wow. How this speaks to me... From the title, giving images of a creative mind having abortion performed on its sensitivities all the way through to the drowning through drugs of self at the end. This is a *fine* work, which threads on many levels. Consistent weave of metaphor through-out. Zool and Regel referred to some of the most obviously striking so I'll not belabor the point. Reading this makes me itch that I haven't written something so well done of late. Inspiring use of the writing craft. Hugs -Peredhil

Too bad the most effective wisdom and tolerance comes from messing life up one's self. As long as you grow from it, it's a lesson from the past. As long as you deny it, it's cycle to be repeated in the future. I'm glad that, in my experience with you, you're learning from life, no matter how hard, and not in denial.

Happy Birthday indeed. Expect really good years this year for the both of you - you're both wearing prime numbers for a while. 31 and 23 are Significant number for a number of reasons in my life, and you've both taken on an increased glow in my mind's eye just for having those ages. Notice that when taken together, 31 & 23 have two 3s, and the 1 & 2 add up to a third 3 - giving 3 threes, which is altogether nifty, and means that taken together, any combination of the four digits will be divisible by 3. Written in YYYYMMDD format as 20040131, the resulting date is divisible by 29 - also a neato prime number. The cube root of 31 is a quick and dirty approximation of Pi out to a couple of places. But I digress. Whether rambling about Charlie Tuna and Chicken of the Sea, or about the shiny writings of the mystical Sorciere, you both have inspired a fondness in me - beyond that which I gain normally and easily, leading me to think that we three are meant to be friends quite happily. Happy Birthday. -Peredhil

For various reasons, none of which will coelesce into articulate words, this struck me deeply. The images I get, of warfare, wounds, doctors' cutting, wounds, the emotional scapels of fearful lovers, and others, are quite overwhelmingly spinning through my mind at the moment.

Peredhil drives madly through the hallways on his Harley Hawg, his black bandana with the white MIA/POW "we will never forget" emblem on the front setting his raven black hair off magnificently. Screeching around corners and laying long black rubber trails as his tires grip the road like a fist, he wrestles the powerful motorcycle through its paces, racing for the Birthday Room. A grinning skull on his tie-die ripped sleeveless t-shirt, which uncharacteristically reveals lean muscles usually kept hidden under his more typical Armani attire, reveals a die-hard Dead Head. He notes that the boys have cleared the hallways ahead of him as directed to ensure he doesn't accidently hit someone - wouldn't want to be a Rude Rebel without Free Time. Spinning wildly he crashes through the large double doors of the Birthday Room. Responsive to his heart's desire as always, he's back in Monteray in the springtime and Jerry Garcia is adjusting the strap and plugging his axe into the amp. The crowd is already a mellow rowdy spread across the hillside on blankets, while the area front-center is reserved for attending Pennites and Vietnam Veterans on this one-night only return performance. The opening act, Phish, is crowding next to the second opener, Styx, both straining to see the big man as he lifts his bearded face to contemplate the first star of the evening, boldly pushing its light through the darkly purpled sky, fading reluctantly on the way to a diamond night on black velvet California night. The last lazy spin leaves his Harley Davidson next to a psychedelic VW van covered with bumper stickers. Cutting the snarling engine, Peredhil hears the sudden quiet filled with Jerry's voice as he says, "I just want to say a special thanks to the Vietnam Vets in the audience tonight, and a happy birthday to Kandara whose birthday brought me back for this set. Welcome home dudes, and thanks for serving in faith." The audience shivers and the guitar strings both shiver in anticipation as he lowers his burning gaze to look out at the crowd. On our journey tonight, let's start from the known, Uncle John's Cabin, and wander together where our spirits take us, knowing we'll be here together until the sun kisses our faces good morning..." And the magic begins...

Wipes a tear from his eye She's gotten so big... I'm so proud. And I'm so happy that she has you, Orlan, because at least you know how to show a URL a good time... Peredhil does note that Orlan is dating twins, both net and org and keeping them in style. Funny how he quietly keeps org to himself to "practice" on, but then, she assured him she was deliriously happy the last time he'd checked...

Peredhil sets up the Birthday Room with red and black Goth decor and leaves a spike collared birthday cake near the door. With a last look to ensure it's all fit for her day, he hangs the "Happy Birthday" Banner and zips away.