Peredhil

Hmmm, I'm going to break one of my cardinal rules and reply to this... Usually, no matter how much I like the piece (as I indeed liked this), I don't reply to it when it's self-labeled "crap" or along those lines: 1) It's too much like a negative plea for reassurance, "Oh no, really, it was wonderful, stroke stroke." I'd rather give my praise as a gift or well earned reward than feel as if I'd been extorted to reassure. You might think that you were being honest of your evaluation and not mean it this way, but still, I've found that not saying anything at all is preferable to slamming your own work. If you aren't fishing, then there is a tendency to accept your own value-added evaluation. 2) If you say it's "crap" and I say it isn't, then I'm forced to be Rude and disagree or argue with you. Or, alternately, if I say I like it, and you say it's "crap", then that implies my taste in literary works is so bad I can't tell the difference between dung and quality, which I take to be an insult. Prolly me in my pride, but there it is. I've notice that nearly every poster here at the Pen has a negatively skewed view of their own works. I do myself. But I've learned that the best way is to just put the work out on its own, accept feedback as a loving attempt to help build a better work, not as an attack on Self, and finally I've learned to just say, "Thank you", no matter how I felt about the work. It's the Polite thing to do, you see... -Peredhil, with more than two cents...

Peredhil smiles happily as he holds the small package wrapped with a big bow. It's not much, but its hand-crafted. It'd been a while since he'd forged a Ring, not since the Guinea Pig's Rings had he forged. He hoped Brute liked it. It wasn't too much, but its power was wrought in consideration of the person - any alcoholic drink held in the hand bearing the Ring would become "Smooth Vintage". He'd tested it on some Maddog 20-20 and it'd tasted like Dom. Romanée Conti. As the Shadow Paths opened, he swept forward with the crowd.

A whirlwind of activity swirls into the Cabaret, waving, hugging, and greeting everyone happily. Peredhil has obviously been out visiting, for he's wearing his travel clothes: Varnet sunglasses, Armani suit, and his azure ring. Trying to keep up with him are his two Bodyguards, Guido and Nuncio, the Giant Guinea Pigs. By the time Peredhil has reached the center of the room, the Bartender has extended a sparking water on ice on one prehensile frond to Peredhil and people have gathered around to get THEIR hugs before he disappears on business again. My! So many people to greet, Brute's birthday to attend, Letters to write and - He breaks off short and smiles with pure joy. A newcomer! Elladan, who's been quietly sitting in a window-ledge alcove drifts up and whispers in his father's ear as Peredhil makes her way over to the new face in the room. Elrohir, Elladan's twin, manages a spell to dry Louveteau's clothes before Peredhil hugs Erik, mindful of the cleaning expenses of the suit Peredhil wears. Erik! Do you mind if I call you Louveteau? I knew someone with a half-a-bee named Erik, and a berserker named Erik, and a singer who went by Derek but became Erik, so it might cause me a bit of confusion. Welcome! I hope you've a room already? He catches Elladan's nod Yes, you do - just get with Elladan there, and he'll show you your room. Our guest, a new audience is alway welcome! The words continue streaming seemingly without need to breathe If you read the sticky signs posted at the entrance to all the chambers, you'll do well, and feel free to wander anywhere that you can gain entrance. If you wish to contribute your own works, we'll be more than happy to listen! Welcome welcome again! Feel free to ask questions of anyone. With a Polite smile, Peredhil vanishes through down the hallway to the left of the bar and is gone again. Elladan gives Louveteau a small diagram and a key.

The last concert I saw was in California. We were on blankets, on a hillside opposite the stage. Monteray area I believe. I'm trying to remember the year - sometime between 1989 and 1992. Jimmy Buffet was on his Shark tour, and gave a strong performance, great audience involvement. He was followed by the Grateful Dead - and though Jerry Garcia was near the year of his death, the GD gave an wonderful performance, more of a jam than anything, moving fluidly from song to song and occasionally interweaving and interleaving songs together. The played about two hours past when they were supposed to be finished, with a given reason that they knew many of the audience were military. The only other performer I've seen who gave that level of performance for that reason was Bruce Springstein, in Germany, when he sang until he was so hoarse, he couldn't sing any more - and then ended the umpteenth encore with a blistering guitar instrumental. The next-to-last concert I saw was the Moody Blues, in 1981... It was beyond words for me, because the MB's music resonates on so many levels beyond music in my life. Concert was in Moscow Idaho to a not-so-large crowd, somewhat of a "lay-over" tour between big cities. It was funny - all of them sauntered out, dressed casually in t-shirts and blue jeans, except the newcomer replacing Mike Pinder, Patrick Morez, who was dressed in traditional "rock star" clothing. Nothing really to look out, but when the music began, the listeners rediscovered that looks truly don't matter to this type of rock-n-roll. To be able to sing like Justin Hayward... There were others before that, but the most memorable was a triple concert in 1982 in Knoxville Tennessee, which had a throw-away group named Axe opening, followed by a new-comer named Joan Jett, who gave the best performance of the evening. The final act was Cheap Trick - and they were absolutely horrible, so high on cocaine they could barely get through the songs.

Al-RIGHT! You IRC Idlers might recognize him as RogBard. A good friend to have, in my experience, with insight and wisdom. Welcome indeed. Speaking of Wyvern, finding your way to the Recruitment Hall would be high on your list of priorities, yes?

"You're mother was a lizard!" "Don't look back hero... don't even turn around!" I kinda liked the little people in Willow. On the other hand, I don't know who Buffy or Willow are - must be TV people. About the only TV I watch is Cartoon Network with my youngest.

One of the most frustrating thing about manipulators is that they tell us what we want and need so badly to hear. Then when they've used us and discarded us, they have a hook already deeply set - They can say it was all our fault for being stupid enough to believe their lies. Amazing. It's like a vampire blaming its blood-rape on the victim for having the gall to produce blood.

Mmmm. I have this dark side to my sense of humor that bursts forth at times like these, totally inappropriate. Such as quoting the Eagles' song, "I'd like to find your inner child and -" Well anyway. Seriously, I like this. You really have a knack of smoothly and obliquely touching on very real subjects and considering them without forcing them down the reader's throat. I enjoy reading your works.

Cheers You've made it here! Melba, the Almost Secretary of the Pen, has some of the latest copies of magazines, "Life's a Witch", "How to Nag from actual Mother-in-laws", and some of her other favorites. Now that you're here, it should be less than a month before we find where Elder Wyvern is hiding and force him to- Erm, I mean, it shouldn't be long before the Elder of Recruiting drops by his place of work.

Peredhil, having had one reply to this eaten, tries again. This is a really timely poem. As Parmenion pointed out, the media pushes the image of hyper-skinny through the use of models. Models whose body-type is extremely rare and unattainable by normal people. Also, don't discount the power of a computer to remove any little imperfections. I have to admit, I enjoy looking at a woman who is a bit more substancial than the current models - If, at 15 meters, I can't tell if it is an adolescent teenaged boy, girl, or grown woman, she's not quite my type. I've long had a rough hypothesis about beauty. It's more of a tendency than anything else, and even as I write, I can think of exceptions. Beauty tends to be defined as something only the rich can afford. Looking back through history... When most women were still working the fields, tanned, calloused, always hungry, beauty was pale, smooth, and what would be considered plump. (Reuben's paintings anyone?) The look that took time and money to maintain. When women moved indoors, secretarial to the present computer jobs, beauty became slender, muscularly fit, with a deep even tan. The plump pale woman was now not beautiful, but a cubicle worker. Just a thought, inspired by your excellent poem.

One of the original Rebels of the last century. I miss him already. digs out a platter from his old record collection and walks down memory lane.

Hmm. I've been reflecting on this since you started the thread... In my life and experience, what finally worked for me was to quit waiting for others to be my friend, to discover my depths, to find out how neat some parts of me are, and how repellent I find other facets of my being. Instead, I choose people with whom I want to be friends. It's a choice and a decision, a commitment to acceptance and mutual exploration. Then I set out to be their friend. I've found that many people just don't know how to be a friend to someone, and expect the other person to really do all the work, while they sit back like a judge, accepting or denying as each word or action comes in. Friendship for me isn't like that. Those of you (and there are many at the Pen), know how I think a friend should be, because you've received it as an example. Commitment up front, for friends will bump and bruise each other, and the wary heart has to know the other person will hang around long enough for moving on and healing. Honesty in communications, not holding back to "protect" the other person, but rather trusting that they'll not flee. Offering feedback about the other that judges actions and words, but not the person. Many people, even toward themselves, can't separate those. They're caught in the "I did something bad, I'm a bad person" trap, instead of the more hopeful, "I did something bad, but I'm a basically good person. Let me learn from it and try not to do it again." As my Mom told me, "You have to be a friend to have a friend, even during the times you don't feel like it." Peredhil hugs again.

I look forward to watching this develop. It would be neat if, after you've gathered all your facts here, you gift us with the final cohesive work as well. Could be a useful example of research.

Happy Birthday! Thank you for all the details and facts with which you constantly support me in IRC Pen chat. In the way my mind thinks it works, facts are useless, so I greatly appreciate a precision and memory like yours. Turning eighteen can also open up freedoms as well as responsibilities. although I suppose freedom can be scarier than no choices at all for some. Refraining from hugging, Peredhil shakes hands instead.

powerful image. I'm too blown away at the moment to be critical. welcome *back*.

I love the way you use figures of speech in the "My Turn", I think they really bring a meaning truer than the literal through to the reader. And the emotional "ownership" of the second stanza, accepting the feelings and cherishing them is a pretty healthy thing in my opinion. In "Longing" you really hit your stride. Some of the phrases evoked strong memory-echoes in me as I read. I think there's a love-hunger in all of us. If it isn't met when we're children, we feel empty and hungry the rest of our lives. "Longing for a Daughter" is nicely ambiguous - it could be the Daughter's longing, or the speaker's desire for a daughter. The next line repeats what is almost a poetic pun. I think your poems are getting stronger and more developed as you continue to post. Your command of syntax and grammar is even more applaudible since you aren't a native English speaker. hugs Keep posting!

this was a FUN read. I found myself chanting it as I read it aloud, as if it were a skald's Edda. The death and violence for love is really powerful. And I wish you would make time to copy some of your things. Best way I've found is to open two windows, one to each location, and then copy-n-paste from old to new. It reads better if you break it up into many posts than putting everything into one ultra-long post. I'm really glad you made time to share with us, Snypiuer. I've missed your words. -Peredhil

Doubles over laughing I'm told I'm a difficult person to have as a husband or parent... I'm relentlessly loving, patient, and inflexible on certain standards...

Ha! Reread with a bit of sleep in me, and found the cadence. If it's read correctly, it bounces right along, doesn't it? I thought it good before, but now I think it's great.

Hmmm. Given the choice, I'd choose the positive affirmations. Shoot for them and forgive yourself for failure - and try again. Things like "superMom" are almost asking to fail, in my experience. Little tiny goals, boring baby steps they may be, often get you further on the board across the chasm than taking a running leap shouting, "I can, I can!". Positive thinking only seems to work for me, at least, when combined with reality. I WILL listen to my daughter for 30 more seconds before cutting her off. I WILL ensure that tonight, I've looked through her homework and praised her for each part done right - and then explained gently what was wrong and why - then praise her for fixing it. Being present the whole time. I will turn off the TV, and be in the same room with my daughter for 1/2 hour. If there is nothing to fill the silence, I will force her to choose to have me read a book or a chapter to her, or her to read a book or a chapter to me. I will not allow other choices. The next time I blow up at someone, when I've calmed down, I will apologize for blowing up. If I was right, I will not apologize for being right - only for how I communicated. Small achievable goals, for which you can praise yourself unmercifully, allowing none of the voices which started the piece to stop you no matter how "false" you know the praise to be. Point the accomplishment and say, "argue with results - goal set, goal achieved". Train to be a winner instead of training to be a failure.

I'm thinkin' that even if a person disagrees about the causes which lead up to such an event, that the fallen are worth mourning because they fell. The United States of America lost an innocence in that attack. For too many, the news of terrorist actions in other countries, the heart's blood and deep emotions being played out, all were news bites and bathroom breaks. If no other lessons are taken away, I would hope that the reality and finality of deaths, and empathy for non-combatants are learned.

I kinda like this, and really didn't have a problem with the flow or the subject as expressed. Keep writing 'em - I'll keep reading 'em!

I particularly like the last sentence.

So, was it the forces of WAS who purchased this billboard? WAS Billboard

Peredhil begins laughing even and he winces and his hands move to a protective gesture.