Tuesday, December 29, 2009

Commercial Drafting


Over the past three years I have been attending college part-time and I have finally made it beyond the boring stuff and broke into the stuff that I want to do. Just thought I would share a class project, we were given the challenge of re-using an old Rite Aid building with restrictions on what features could be modified and required to remain within current Michigan Building Code and ADA (handicap accessible) regulations. I chose to give the shell a new life as a book store (go figure!) adding all the features on the east side (right of illustration) restrooms, storage, office spaces, etc. as well as the counter spaces near the entrance. There were also large arched windows added to the north and south sides of the building. A total of nine drawings were required for this class with more upcoming in part two of the course. Even though it was a lot of work it was enjoyable. Perhaps not the most inspiring but enjoyable none-the-less. This project gave me a deeper understanding of the scope of an architects' job and the depth of detail which must be covered.

Tuesday, September 1, 2009

The train has left the station


Recently, Michigan lawmakers discussed the possibility of using some Federal stimulus money to renovate the dilapidated Michigan Central Depot which has stood empty since 1988. Now ringed in barbed wire and 'tagged' with graffiti, the massive Detroit building seems to be perched at a high ledge awaiting it's fate. Detroit City Counsel wants to demolish the building but, Michigan legislators think it could be used as a Michigan State Police lab, a Homeland Security border protection office and an international trade processing center. This sounds great at first but is it really worth it? The property has very little parking space to support the 500,000+ square feet of space within the building. This is due to fact that when the building was designed in the early 1900s cars were a novelty and passengers came to the secluded station via trolley car from the city.

I'm torn on this subject. The building, in it's day, dominated the city skyline. Richly decorated inside and out in marble the Michigan Central Depot was a showpiece of architecture and engineering. It is still an incredibly attractive building even in it's decayed state and resides on the National Registry of Historic Buildings. The big question here is this, can it be sustained? Rail travel is rare these days and the proposed uses by the state would barely make a dent in the space available within the vast building. Who will pay to keep the heat on in a bitter Michigan winter? Not to mention the estimated 100 million dollar estimate to renovate the building to usable status again.

As much as I loath to see a historic building lost to the wrecking ball, I don't see how this building can be of any further use. The layout of money to get everything up to health and safety codes which will allow the building to be reopened is just too great. The Depot has sat far too long and I don't believe there is any way to turn back the clock now.



Friday, August 14, 2009

Phoenix

FNM on tour in Frankfurt

If I could only host music on this site, it would be full of songs from my two all-time favorite artist, Pink Floyd and Faith No More. Both bands broke up many years ago and through the years neither has shown any interest in reforming, until recently. It is not new news but very encouraging and exciting news that FNM has risen from it's ashes and is touring again! The talk on their official site fnm.com, states that they are
"still young and strong enough to deliver a kickass set, with enthusiasm to not only revisit our past but possibly add something to the present."
While no tour dates have come to North America the European dates played thus far have been reported as great successes drawing very large crowds. I won't hold my breath over how long this arrangement will last but I'm surely happy to know that it is possible that we may see FNM in the states and, if all the stars align, we might even be blessed with some new music some day.

Tuesday, August 4, 2009

Characters

I've been doing a bit of gaming and a lot of reading lately and got to thinking. When authors write about the characters in their books do they consciously make an attempt to create compelling characters or is it generally something that just happens. Did R.A. Salvatore have a great story to tell or did he start with a cast of great characters, building the story around them? Not that it really matters, I suppose, a good book is a good book but, characters and their development are what generally drive the story. So, how does an author create compelling characters? I know that not many people read this other than me but what are your opinions? What are the characters that make a great story? Some of my favorites are as follows in no particular order:

Jarlaxle Baenre -
The charismatic leader of a band of rogues who has always got a trick or ten up his sleeve just demands attention. When Salvatore brought to light an entire trilogy co-starred by Jarlaxle I was a happy reader indeed.

Roland -
Knight and later, Lord serving the Frankish Emperor Charlemagne Roland's combination of unbreakable loyalty to his lord, fierce adherence to the knightly code, and often reckless battlefield antics make Charlemagne's Champion one compelling character.

Jander Sunstar -
The main character in Vampire of the Mists is a truly tragic figure A character who enjoys life and the pleasures of it locked in the "life" of undeath and forced to feed on the living.

Vrock -
The simple, brutish half-orc had so many great one-liners that it was impossible to not love this character. There was no secret agendas with Vrock, he was easy to gauge - eat, drink, bash heads!

Gandalf The Grey -
My first real encounter with wizards in fantasy literature was with Tolkien's character. The wizened and mysterious magic user, for all his power, never had all the answers. He showed that he was human on many levels, mixing in just enough mischief to keep things interesting for those around him.

Monday, May 4, 2009

Abandoned

Last night I was watching part of "Life After People" on the History channel and I was just amazed at how quickly some buildings crumble and fall while others remain standing for decades with no care. This also tied into some research I've been doing for a writing project and it all brought me to hundreds of sites on the subject of abandoned buildings and in some cases entire cities. It's shocking that people would just walk away from some of these incredible structures never to return. Old, unused, out of the way places and architecture are huge draws to me so, urban exploration (a fancy term for trespassing) is something I've wanted to do but never had the nerve to get into. I guess I'll just live vicariously for now. Here are a few pictures as well as their source sites. Glimpses into the past and perhaps our future.

Monday, April 20, 2009

Free Comic Day

To cement my place in geekdom I would like to promote free comic book day! Yes, on occasion I still stop by the comic book store and sometimes I even make a purchase before hiding the bag beneath my coat and running back home to read it! Anyway, if you are a fan, May 2nd is the date and most every comic store participates so get out and enjoy some free entertainment! (the trailer is pretty cool too!)


Friday, April 10, 2009

Gone

Gone now are the creators of Dungeons & Dragons. Last year Gary Gygax died and now I am saddened to hear that Dave Arneson has also passed. It is hard for me to imagine a world without D&D. What these two men started so long ago has created a great deal of enjoyment for me over the years. More information on Dave Arneson can be found here: Wizards
Order of the Stick comic homage.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Repentance of Solitude

On a roll today, here is a short story that I actually finished! Of course the only reason it was finished I'm sure, is that it was graded. I wrote this for an advanced english and composition class that I took in high school.

----------------------------------------------------------------
Repentance of Solitude

The giant beast lay unusually still, it’s eyes shut tight to the outside world. Normally when it slept, the ancient wyrm shifted periodically, and it’s torso bobbed with deep, rhythmic breaths. Now though, it’s reptilian form merely lay there, making no profound movements, just breathing, barely. Its chest heaved sporadically, providing the beast with barely enough life giving air to sustain itself.

Soon, the beast knew, soon it’s spirit would leave it’s corporeal body, a body too old and tired to contain it’s contentious essence, and pass to another existence, an unknown existence. For the first time in all it’s life the great beast was truly afraid. Never before had it been threatened with it’s life. Always it had been the predator. Deer, moose, men monsters, anything stupid enough to venture too close to it’s clawed appendages and toothed maw.

Even when meals didn’t deliver themselves to it’s door step, the enormous, black beast would leave it’s cave, rising high into the clouds on leathery wings. With barely any effort the beast would glide around, searching for prey with it’s keen senses. Senses far superior to any predator, for it was the predator of all predators. Protected by a scale armored hide which was nearly invulnerable, the beast feared no harm. Complimenting this armor were equally impressive weapons; claws the length of a sword and a mouth full of razor sharp teeth, easily the length of an average man’s leg and more. Anything that lived was for the taking. None could hope to oppose him.

Although it had only been a few years since his last hunting foray, the beast thought it to be a very long time in the past. The years had finally caught up to him. He had lived well over a millennium; had watched the rise of the great elven and Dwarven kingdoms, the upbringing of the human race, and so many wonderful wars! But that was long ago, before time had caught him in it’s web. Before his fangs began to rot and his scales became brittle. Even his dreaded breath, once a deadly stream of the most potent acid known to the world, had been lost, replaced by a mere dribble of fluid, no more dangerous than that found in a common fruit.

The dragon’s eye lids slid open slowly and the round, black orbs, roughly the diameter of a wagon’s wheel, rolled around in their sockets, scanning it’s lair. It hadn’t always been like this, the beast thought. Before he had taken occupancy of the vast, underground cavern, it had been merely that. An empty cavern, it’s rough walls and ceiling containing nothing but hollow silence.

It had been so long ago when the cavern had been discovered, the giant, black, wyrm, barely six decades out of the egg at the time, had found the cave during it’s youthful roaming of the world and made it a lair. Having established a permanent residence, the dragon became able to do more than simply survive, there was suddenly time for more unconventional pursuits. He had decided to begin a trophy collection, something to symbolize his victory every time he devoured a creature. And so it began, objects of every size and shape were brought back to the cavern. Thinking back to those younger days the ancient wyrm remembered how quickly the cavern had become stuffed with the majority of it’s current treasures. If his withered body would have allowed it he would have grinned evilly at the thought of all the feasting he had done on the weaker beings in the area and of the wealth that had grown with his girth.

Without warning, the ancient beast’s monstrous chest was shot with immense pain, that which the wyrm had never experienced before. His great lungs refused to bring in any air, frozen like a polar iceberg. The giant beast writhed in agony, the last of it’s precious energy sending jewel encrusted swords, ornamental goblets and pieces of armor flying about the cavern in a spray of gold and silver coins. Slowly, the lair began to dim considerably, his vision began to blur and the beast realized that his body was threatening to cease all operations and cast his spirit into the unknown. With a tremendous show of will, he forced himself out of his semiconscious state and returned to full, if not very exhausted, consciousness. Refusing to give in to nature’s calling, his body fell back to the ground, and his chest heaved as he gasped, filling his deprived lungs with air once more. His vision cleared and the cavern slowly came back into focus as he held on stubbornly.

Suddenly, a though hit him, as if one of the many stalactites hanging above him had fallen, smashing into his skull. What, exactly, was he holding on to? The question seemed so simple, yet, he found it difficult to find an answer. Everything he was and had ever been, told him that he was holding on to the only thing that meant anything, his power, his wealth, and his dignity. Slowly, he began to realize that that was not true though. He began to realize that he no longer had any power. His body, the tool that brought his power, was a mere shell of it’s former condition and would never serve him again. Wealth, he realized with horror, was completely worthless to him. Even when he was in good health, he had no need for material riches when he could simply take anything he wanted. All his life he had wasted his time building his horde, thinking it to be a show of power. Now he realized though, that it was merely a show of his selfish greed. Even if gold was a show of power, nobody had ever seen his treasures and lived to spread the word.

One, single, pointed, though struck deeply into the beast’s very being. A thought so devastating that his heart skipped several, precious beats upon it’s realization. He was about to die alone. In his life he had been so obsessed with filling his stomach, and building his treasure horde, that he had neglected to ever exchange thoughts and ideas with any other living being, fellow dragon or other wise.

The emptiness that had always been there, yet had always been ignored, rushed through him. As if his heart had been ripped from his breast and, a sword plunged into it, the hollowness of his existence struck a deep, painful wound, far worse than anything physical ever could.

The volume of that emotional wound weighed heavily on the beast’s health. Possibly even more than time had, for after only a few short days, the mighty beast’s reign of terror ceased in a pathetic display of mental pleas to any god who might be listening. The prayers were never answered and in the early glow of a frigid autumn morning, the dragon’s giant, black, heart beat it’s last beat. The beast gave in to nature this time. It’s enormous head lolled to the side and it’s, now dull eye released the only tear it had ever known. His last thoughts before darkness swallowed him were of how it might have been if he had not destroyed every being he had encountered. What would death be like then? The last sound issued from his once, powerful lungs, was not the thunderous roar that the world had once feared, but the mournful sobbing of one who had always been, and would now always be, alone.

Silverfire

Here is some of a story I started a long while back based on a great D&D campaign I was privileged to participate in. This is not how I remember it and I do not think this is the best version of it, (yes it was rewritten several times) so if someone out there has the good copy which I can't seem to find, please let me know. I would really like to go further with this some day, maybe I'll even be able to complete this tale... Anyway, on with the goods!


Silverfire

Outside the Pride of Waterdeep Inn the temperature was dropping rapidly, as the sun had fallen behind the horizon a few hours ago. It was fast approaching late autumn and although the hour was late, many merchants were still going about their business, eager to secure their shipments before the winter hit in full and the shipping ceased. The sky was without stars this windy night, shut out by the approaching storm that closed in on the city from the north. The unusual blackness of the sky and the gusting, howling wind made the outdoors seem most uninviting.

Within the sturdy walls of the Pride of Waterdeep, though, the patrons of the inn were in a joyous state. All of them with the exception of one. An elf. A most unusual individual to be unengaged in the festivities about him, yet he was quite removed from the cheers, toasts to friends, and laughter that filled the place. Off at a corner table, all alone sat the elf. He was of normal height and build for an elf with nothing remarkable about

him, save his long, silvery hair and his stern, piercing silver gaze.

His only company was the tall bottle of elvin wine, and a long sword lying unsheathed, next to it's scabbard upon the small, round table. The elf sat perfectly still, staring at the sword before him. His only movements were to take an occasional, deep swallow from the open bottle which, was now, nearly half empty.

Off to the side, a barmaid approached the small, wooden table that the elf occupied. Too far into his own thoughts, the normally alert elf was oblivious to her advance. Standing directly beside the elf, the barmaid reached out and placed her hand on his shoulder and leaned closer meaning to whisper into his delicate ear.

Suddenly the elf snapped back to his immediate surroundings. Without hesitation he sprang from his chair, snatching the sword from the table as he rose. The unfortunate barmaid soon found herself lying flat on her back with the elf poised above her, his eyes full of blazing hatred, and his sword resting on her collar bone, it's tip scratching her throat.

The taproom became suddenly quiet, as the patrons considered the comotion and it's source. The elf sensed all those eyes glaring at him and forced himself to relax his sword. The barmaid's fear showed plainly upon her face and for many uncomfrotable moments, even when the elf returned the sword to the table, she lay there, not daring to move. Neither did the eyes of the crowded room move, staying firmly fixed upon the very odd, and seemingly hostile, elf.

Becoming very uncomfortable under the stares, the elf turned his discomfort into anger and vented it on the unfortunate woman, who was still lying at his feet.

"Damned human, don't ever sneak up on me like that again. It is a very good way to end your pathetic existence." With that the elf spun around and seated himself back at his table, returning to his lucidity.

Completely shocked the woman sat there dumbly for a moment more. Then, she burst into tears as she scrambled to her feet and ran back to the kitchen. Another barmaid followed her into the kitchen, and a dark scowl etched itself into the bartender's face as he looked on. The crowd continued it's silent observation of the situation, as if they expected something more to occur.

This went on for several more seconds, the grouping in the taproom gazing at the elf, and the elf, in return, ignoring the fact that they even existed. Suddenly the silence was shattered when a dwarf stood upon his table and held his mug up bellowing,"Give me another mug 'o mead, real mead this time not this watered down orc piss."

The gathering relaxed at that, some even chuckling at the obviously intoxicated dwarf - the chuckles inevitably received a threatening glare from the aggravated dwarf. The bartender was unsure if he should be grateful to the dwarf for breaking the tension, or if he should be offended by the dwarf's accusation. With a shrug he poured a tall glass of his strongest mead, promptly sending it to the dwarf's table. His bar was far more important than a drunken dwarf's opinion of his mead.

667


Last night I was sifting through some old-old papers and books in my office and ran across some treasures that I have not laid eyes on in over twelve years. Every time I see these three numbers I always remember good times in the company of friends. 667, Neighbor of The Beast Productions was the brain trust of three like minded and very talented people. It was an ambitious project that unfortunately never really got off the ground but it was a really fun project to work on. The basic principal of the endeavor was to produce and self-publish our writing possibly making a profit in the process. It's too bad that a group of young adults with no professional experience or contacts just did not know the first thing about how to go about making it work. In any event, I have put up a few samples of what we did those years ago for nostalgia. Any of the original authors are more than welcome to have all of the work that I have collected sent to them and you also have the right to have me take your entry off of this page. I hope you are more flattered than angry!

Neighbor collaboration

THE RIDE- by A.C. Baker

and J.A. Chesney


One way or another, everyone goes for the ride.

For some, the ride is short

For others, long.

Most all of us fear the end.

Because we know it’s a one way trip.

No one gets off ‘till it’s over,

And no one ever comes back.

Some find great wealth along the way,

Some find gutters to sleep in.

The ride itself is different for us all,

But the end result is always the same.

Be you man, boy, woman, or girl

You are already on the ride,

But none of us are really in the drivers seat.

And we’ll all find out what the end is...

...Soon enough.

667, Neighbor of The Beast Productions. LTD.

E.P. Schudlich

LIFE, WHAT IS IT WORTH?


“Life, what is it worth? Is death the most terrible thing?” I think many people have pondered over these two simple questions. Many of these people probably faced great dispair or tragedy at the time they questioned life and its worth. I believe that life is very cheap and pointless. One lifeform feeds off another in an endless circle. Like a dog chasing it’s tail, life is completely without meaning. Organisms, no matter how simple or complex, are born only to die after a short period of life. To me, life is utterly worthless because it is so unnecessary. In the eyes of the eternal universe, life is nothing but cheap fodder to be thrown to the hungry jaws of death. And what of death? Is it the most terrible thing? I would say that death is not the most terrible thing to be faced in life. Rather, it’s the anguish and suffering, both mental and physical, that’s endured while living that is most terrible. Life fears death because physical pain is associated with it, but once life becomes death what difference does it make?

E. Schudlich III

J.A. Chesney

Right! - by J.A. Chesney


You’re always right,

And whether you’re right

or exactly right,

You’re still right.

But sometimes you’re just right,

But right just the same,

And sometimes you’re quite right,

But never almost right,

And NEVER like me,

Because you’re right,

And when you’re right,

you’re right.

And you,

You’re always right.

-----------------------------------------------------

1996- by J.A. Chesney


I don’t want to see what will be,

Don’t want to know what lies ahead

One more year, will it ever get better?

I don’t think it will

New years kisses,

Lots of beer and champagne,

But not one kiss,

And not a drop for me

I don’t want to do it all over again,

One more year,

I’m tired, I’m alone,

Tears drying in my eyes,

Happy new year


A.C. Baker

ALONE- by A.C. Baker


Alone.

No thoughts.

No wants.

No desires.

Alone.

Nothingness.

Unblinking.

Only breathing.

Barely.

Alone.

Heart slowing.

Slower still.

Stopped.

Alone.

Cold.

Still.

No tears.

Darkness.

Alone.

-------------------------------------------------------------

WAR - by A.C. Baker


On the ground, there he lay.

With nowhere to go, nothing to say.

Blood was soaked into the stone,

The bodies around him were nothing but bones.

There in the silence he wanted to cry,

Not one tear left his eye.

He rose to his feet and looked around,

The carnage he saw held him spellbound.

One by one shots were fired,

The ending result was what he desired.

He fell to the ground, his soul was gone.

And with his death, came the dawn.


Thursday, March 5, 2009

Friday, February 20, 2009

Artists

I recently ran across some work from these awesome artists and thought I would throw up some of their work here.

Richard Yang:


Florin Badita:

Darryl Taylor: