I turned the images on (I usually browse without images) and was very surprised at people not having an avatar according to my mental image of them (!?). No, it makes no sense at all, but for a second my mind found it completely reasonable to expect those avatars to coincide with that subjective persona. For example Mercurial should've been her and Cogito him. Mind works in strange ways.
Mine was a falcon until yesterday. I use images and signatures etc based on the novel I am working on. Once I finished Angus's story yesterday, I moved onto Socrates and have changed my profile accordingly lol
No one ever guesses I'm a 500 year old drawing of some sort of sheep/fish hybrid being menaced by giant red asparagus.
Strangely when I turned images on I saw the swans, thought it seemed apropiate, and the next post was something like "nice new avatar", so I never got to see the onld one. If you translate your name from Persian to Spanish, it's the name of my old home's street.
Oooh, what does it mean? I reached Melzaar via Melisende which I reached via hating my middle name and looking for a better one in its roots. 10 points if you guess what my middle name actually is. Anyway! I had no idea it was a word! lol... My friend just started calling me it 'cause my general attitude toward the world is that I am the supervillain about to conquer it. ... I think I'm going to wear my long evil coat today. I feel in the mood now.
I'm not sure I've ever had an avatar here. There is a picture of my dashing mug somewhere on this site though, I think I'd bet in the picture thread
Mine are always black and white photos of my long-dead heroes. <The current one is Raymond Carver in case anyone wonders.
Hey, I like that idea! Why does that not surprise me? It does seem fitting... All this talk of avatars has made me realize that I haven't changed my avatar in a while....
"Steerpike" comes from Mervyn Peake's "Gormenghast" books. Here is some of the description of the character provided in the book and made available online (I have to say it is nothing like me, but there you have it): "If ever he had harboured a conscience in his tough narrow breast he had by now dug out and flung away the awkward thing - flung it so far away that were he ever to need it again he could never find it. High-shouldered to a degree little short of malformation, slender and adroit of limb and frame, his eyes close-set and the colour of dried blood, he is climbing the spiral staircase of the soul of Gormenghast, bound for some pinnacle of the itching fancy - some wild, invulnerable eyrie best known to himself; where he can watch the world spread out below him, and shake exultantly his clotted wings. Limb by limb, it appeared that he was sound enough, but the sum of these several members accrued to an unexpectedly twisted total. His face was pale like clay and save for his eyes, mask-like. These eyes were set very close together, and were small, dark red, and of startling concentration"
