Blog-azic

Eowyn was a fair woman and proud like a warrior. Indeed, she was troubled for her heart she gave to one who would not have it, Aragon son of Arathorn, the Elfstone and heir of Isildur. His heart belonged to another - an Elf-Maiden and fairest among her people, and, though he spoke gentle words to the Lady Eowyn and labored to call her even from the Shadow of Fear, still she was cut by a love unrequited. And as such wounds are long to mend, she desired death in battle, a release of her living pain. But there was another man, Faramir, Steward of Gondor, who looked upon Eowyn, and his heart was moved with pity, and that pity kindled a deep love. And though Eowyn also felt such a love for him, she resisted it, and when all people of the White City rejoiced - for a Great Shadow had left the world - she only was filled with sorrow. At length, Faramir spoke to her. "You looked upon the greatest among men and desired his glory. And you loved him for it. And when he could not return such l

"Have you not heard the news? Well, friend, give me your attention, and you shall hear what I know, and you may find the news of great import for how you spend your time this weekend. "It is said - and I know it in truth - that he will take to the stage again. Verily! The Bearded One, the Spinner of Tales, the Walker of the Hills. Yes, and with him another: a man with long hair and a high and fair voice, known around the City of Bricks as JJ Reed. How these two have come to play together on one bill is not known for certain, but it is said that higher powers have arranged it, the Angels of Light and Sound have foretold this from high upon The Hill of Sacred Flame. "But, even without regard to the strange Fates that spin all lives into the One Web, this will surely prove to be a merry event. And you may join the merryment. Indeed, it would please The Beard greatly to see you there. He bids you join him at DONKEY as the sun sinks below the hills, when, into the night, a sw

... and I went there with Quinn Fuller , who was recomended to me by a friend . And, she showed me that one can harvest the forest for life. We walked six miles the first day (four the next), and the whole hike , my poor packing job dug into my shoulders. It stressed me, and by the end of the hike - with me in the lead - I was setting quite a pace until, that is, we turned our trek around to see the Indian mound. Then she showed me how to cut a maple sapling, and how to skin it, and told me to lash it, and soon I had a pretty pack frame. The next morning (when I awoke at, oh, eight in the mornin'!) I loaded my gear onto frame. When we did hike, I made a quick adjustment: I made a shoulder pad by wrapping leaves in a hand kercheif. How my shoulders thanked me many times! And I also found coltsfoot. And I did collect it and it's drying in my (attic) room with lots of stinging nettle . I'm preparing for a hike, after all, and I must be sure to have nettle to eat.

It is strange for it seems to be a double reality going. At some times, the night seems strange because it is so unknowable - who knows what's really out there? At other times, the night is all I need to be alone, when all my bretheren are creating false daylight in their boxes. I look forward to my trip out to the woods more than ever. Where will I go? What will be like the first of September? I think my family will be near. And we'll eat a leisurely lunch and part ways. I will go east and camp for a bit on the hill that overlooks the town. Then, south to my friend, Ryan, and he will show me the secret places near the river. Then north, for I must be alone to meditate in peace because I don't think I've yet had meditative peace. And if I survive all that, then who knows? Maybe then far south, beyond the sea even. But, that is far away. Let me survive the fall first.

What is meant by "bitter-sweet?" I can tell you, walking out to frieds uptown is sweet, but bitter is the longing that I feel to remain with them, for very soon I will leave my home to walk alone through these hills. Not that I need be alone. Not even that I will be alone. I slept on pine needles again! I walked out to the OU golf course where there are several stands of pines with thick beds of needles under bough. Pine needles are delicious to sleep upon; they're soft and warm! The sound of a golf cart rolling by awoke me soon after sunrise. A poem about sunshine: O, Sun in the Sky From East to West you daily fly All too short your journey seems And shorter still; It's wanning As we rush headlong to Autumn. Then, at night you do not stop your motion. Oh no, nothing of the sort. You travel from the Western port Under the Earth round And by and by, a beam of light stabs at mine eye. Then "Awake!" you scream. "Moon is gone. Here am I. So, on your feet! I

Oftentimes I will see things in my head: visions of the future. Then I struggle, that vision would become reality. So it was just moments ago when I opened my web browser. A url flashed in my mind; a voice whispered it in my ear. From whence came the voice I cannot say, and to what end I should have need of this website is yet uncertain. There are powers at work in our world for both good and evil, and even the very wise cannot see all ends. But the voice was soft and sweet as the wind through chimes, and the url flashed clear and bright as the sun rose today: www.pac-man.com Should I ever need a replacement graphic for my upright, Ms. Pac-man arcade game, I now know where to find it. And for only $229.

You need only turn your volume up - the tunes will begin automatically. You may controll the music using the blue box at right. You can chose different songs by clicking the "POSTS" button and selecting by its title. While I often play solo in a live situation, I have multi-tracked some of these recordings. I perform all parts. Do enjoy these songs!

I had been walking between the houses, over drives and through backyards. I had seen one young rabbit, and I stopped to talk to him. But now my time between the houses was over and I stepped onto the street, the sun felt oppressive. I sighed, removed my shirt, threw it over my left shoulder, then decided that I'd like it better over the right shoulder. When I turned left to continue, I saw a friend. She was sitting in a small garage with a dog and a book. We greeted each other. Furthermore, here is a poem on the matter: She said she'd just hit her head and was a bit groggy. Her dog barked and lept forward at me! I jumped back and brought my my sandles, which I was carrying in my left hand, in between us. I was indeed surprised! Jack was upset that I did not introduce myself to him, so we talked for a bit. We became fast friends. Then we all walked - all three of us - to UCM so we may partake in Thursday Supper. As we waited for the food, I played the banjo. Jack was very hung

What you must understand is this: I have adventures. It's what I do. After a long day at the office; on Sundays when I don't look at the clock; on my way to the bar uptown, something magical happens to me. It happens because I want it to happen. I will it into existance. The song is about an adventure. I went down to the Hocking River and sat with the banjer. The birds darted over the water, perhaps snagging bugs. They'd shoot past me, turn left and right, rise in a graceful arch and fall back to the water again. On that day was I introduced to Kildeer. I've seen him many times since. When I first looked at Nature with love in my eyes, I was looking at a tree. Then I talked to the trees because they are my friends. I talked to Giant Sycamore and Grandmother Spruce. At the river I saw a plant, and I saw soft prickles under its leaf (down the midrib) and on its stem. Then the plant talked. "Don't eat me," it said. "I won't eat you, my friend."