Some Subsets of Practice Photography

I've been working on my shots at 70 meters in hopes of perhaps moving up the USA Archery ranking food chain and seeing how I measure up to my peers and idols under competitive (read: VERY uncomfortable) conditions.

First three pictures are of anchor/expansion and release/follow-through.

 

Early follow-through.

 

At anchor....

 Transferring...

 Transfer/expansion...

 Expansion, just the instant before release...

 Release/follow-through. I have NO idea what the camera did THAT for!

 Follow-through at conclusion of the shot... at least when correctly executed.

 And of course, some of my groups through the course of practice as I find either amusing or reasonably good.

I also found a few pictures that I apparently didn't properly copy from the camera before. These were from House Eisbar. This was a truly beautiful and magnificent specimen of the Eastern Diamondback Rattlesnake. He was very difficult to spot in the leaves but a keen-eyed archer pointed him out to me and of course, I couldn't help but take photographs!

Revised Poem: Symphony of the Wolf

Sometimes... I just wonder what on earth is going on when the poetry just flows out of me... I partially blame some of my literary collaborators / inspirations for the creation of this piece! In other news, the novel has also taken a turn for the weird enough for even me to just wonder what on earth is bubbling up out of me. What started off as a fairly laid-back light-hearted story making fun of myself has turned into something a lot more monstrous where I'm exploring things I thought I either wouldn't explore again for a long ... very long ... time... or things that I would never explore. Speaking of which, I may have to go back to exploring the wolf and parakeet mythology given that there really isn't any that I know of in any of our more established mythologies and the lack of actual geographical overlap between wolves and parakeets.

Symphony of the Wolf

Grey wolf is locked inside the cage,
Each shallow breath drowns her lungs.
She dreams of shadowed forests,
Enchanted springs, forgotten joys,
An ogre sheltering her from the storm.
A song of her, a soul in need,
A shy and silent symphony
In need of a lullaby
To lighten her heart's leaden load.

Impartial firmament, abyss-dead,
Apathetic above dusty windstorm,
Petrified trees, swirling sands.
Immortal Beloved protecting her
In warm, powerful embrace, fleeting solace,
Cold iron cage shattered by meaty fists.
A catnap in the ghost town of the spirits,
Singing a song of them, souls in search
Of a gentle and peaceful symphony
In need of a nocturne-lullaby
Sleep away endless day's sorrows.

Sooty clouds menace from piano black skies,
Wolf and Immortal Beloved nestled,
Two hearts in syncopated staccato rhythm.
A song of them, a song of two friends
In need of a rejuvenating symphony
To soothe two parched hearts,
Wandering through barren, ashen desert
Shadowed by charred blood of ancient days,
Long obscured, no other footprints
Save theirs in desolate lands
Until gales sunder their paths
Kindred spirits flung to distant corners.

Grey wolf howls to barren Crossroads,
Nocturne to calm devils of choking dust,
A call to find the ogre once again.
Memories of spring-born days,
Innocence, Immortal Beloved,
Sapphire and turquoise skies,
Dreams of companionship, golden dawns,
Scarlet dusks, two souls bonded,
A catnap in the husks of wounded hearts.
A song of them, yearning spirits
Singing a song of rest and hope,
For both wounded ogre under curse of death
And lonely wolf bereft of her pack,
Both nearly crushed by leaden burden.

Two forlorn trails cross in ancient sands,
One thousand one nights unseen.
Loners searching, reaching
Amidst blinding blizzards of despair,
Footprints erased beyond memories.
Wolf and ogre blissfully reunited
Etched years erased in triumphant embrace,
Cage broken, air no longer sears her lungs,
Decades of sorrow lifted from Immortal Beloved,
Youth restored to friends torn apart
By iron cage and scorching storm.
A song of them, grateful souls
Reunited in a random walk
Within a joyous symphony.

Sky fades from vapid beige to tranquil blue,
Caustic sands give way to careless lilacs,
Rich soils studded with shy green herbs,
Canopy high above proud and vibrant,
Sheltering wolf and Immortal Beloved from rain.
A song of them, a song in need
Of a clarion-call paean,
An enchanted nocturne-lullaby,
For two companions finally free,
Forever at peace under the mighty oaks and pines,
Neither caged or torn asunder
For all eternities beyond fathoming.

A Visit to House Eisbar

Sometimes stress levels can reach nuclear proportions for various reasons, plus I felt like getting away from Deliverance, I mean, town, and retreating to a bastion of ultra-nerdiness and muscle-growing. This, of course, meant I got to go back to my roots for a few hours in a yard I missed shooting in even if my sinuses decided to become more congested than the 405 during rush hour!

 Ahh yes, 18 meters to those targets. I keep forgetting that I need to use copious amounts of lube on my arrows if I want them to come back out without me sounding like I was trying to pass a durian (or pineapple) on the toilet!

 

Not too shabby for not having shot barebow at all since late February... doubly so for wooden arrows. Yes, it's a HUGE target (60 cm) and my first shot was a calibration shot, but heck, looks like my time on the Olympic recurve is paying off. That being said, longbow does NOT hold as steadily as I remember it holding! It was still better than the actual horsebows I tried to shoot and realized that NTS doesn't quite work! 

The Monstro-Murk!

 

 Don't know about you but between the thunder, lightning, and the fact that Monstro-Murk appears to be looming over me, shooting outside didn't seem to be such a bright idea, especially with me shooting out to 70 meters. And then there's the Olympic recurve too... yeah.

 Final group before fleeing from the devastation wrought by the ever-so-annoying Monstro-Murk that seems to show up most summer Florida afternoons especially when I'm trying to focus on training for outdoor archery!

Moved indoors to 18 meters. Air conditioning is also nice, but unfortunately without the aid of a timer, I am forced to rush my shots at the hands of some rather impatient snap-shooters who don't understand that some styles are inherently a bit slower!

 

Gratuitous Killer Parakeet picture with the belts I've accumulated over the years... yes, Killer Parakeet is my little mascot even if my totem animal is the wolf. Speaking of which, I almost wonder if the bear will tolerate another stuffed animal in the room... I miss my little stuffed wolf...

Success at 50 Meters!

I did a few simulated elimination rounds at 50 meters with a buddy of mine, who's returning to archery after a long hiatus. He's a compound archer so we moved to his competitive distance, especially after realizing just how much pain 70 and 60 meters inflicted on him. Speaking of pain, I think my leg day exercises may also have inflicted a bit of pain on him too! I didn't think it was THAT brutal of a leg day workout but I think I might've done him in for the next few days. Zombie-walk, anyone?

Possible Sketch for the Novel...

I have a lot of various test sketches and bits of poetry-like things that I use to help frame the story and let me see how a given plot element or step in character development pans out before I fully charge in. It's not that much different from running a simulation to test hypotheses, except a whole lot more stochastic in nature given how my imagination tends to work! This is a bit written by one of the side characters, possibly either an incompetent bard-like figure who plays the equivalent of the "Chorus" in Greek tragedies or even Ilithara the questionably competent wizard-like character who's on her 9th life and is in danger of ending up in the equivalent of a hell for bumbling mages if she fails on her own quest.

The idea with this particular poem explores a potential set of scenes in the third part of the story to explore the aftermath of our heroes practically starting a Cataclysm in an alternate version of this world...

She drank of the River Lethe,
Washed away her True Name
From sacred Book of Three.

No regrets, she walks alone,
Rain ceases to fall in summer breeze,
Blissful apathy, no sins to atone,
Roaming free through timeless domain,
Endless wilds, never to recall
Flames of joy or regret or pain.

There hides a forbidden flower
Near the Gate, beneath pitch debris.
Blood red rose of unspoken power,
Herald of her heart's rebirth
Yet to behold it is to remember:
Condemned to mortal doom again.

Lance of sunlight breaks in,
Pierces smoky glass coffin
And deep black earth alike.
Red rose's scent awakens lone wolf,
Tantalizes the curious Champion.
Will she leave Lethe for eternity
For bitter, tragic fate,
Life tinged with regrets and loss?

Furry paw extends to blood rose,
Frees it from dusty night,
Mighty furred paw softens to a hand.
Barbed thorns sting deep,
Fearless, she embraces pain,
Blood stains pearl-bleached sand,
Renewed warmth amidst salty tears,
First in a frozen near-eternity
Memory of one under curse of death
A fallen knight seeking penance.

Forget-me-not takes root in her bones,
Red rose blossoms by her heart,
Winter melts away with joyful tears.
Time remembers the silent clock,
Soothing rain falls once more,
Rewrites her True Name in Book of Three.

Banished to mortality and strife,
Yet broken free from eternal ice,
Fire returns to winter night.
Reunited with wounded rose-knight
Faithful past banks of Lethe River.
What verses and tales will they write
In their chapters of the Book of Three?

Fenrir's Mayhem, Installation 2/n: Ragnarok Begins!

I love doing tire strikes with the sledgehammer! This was by far the easiest part of WOD 2 of Fenrir's Mayhem II: Ragnarok Begins. I don't think there were too many pictures of me doing either Einjerhar or Surtr's Rage. I figured if I survived Ragnarok, I could survive the rest of the day!

The WOD itself can be seen demonstrated here: http://fenrirsmayhem.com/wod-3-ragnarok-begins/

It's time to beat that tire into submission after running 800m in the woods with the sledgehammer and rowing 800 meters!

 The Firewolf's fury knows NO boundaries!!

 The tire shall know no mercy from the Firewolf!

Die, vile tire!! I shall smite thee again!

 

Sandbag power cleans, or something resembling it. This was only 20 lbs so power cleaning it was the very easy part. Running 800 meters in the woods with the bag and the sledgehammer, not so easy!