View allAll Photos Tagged Pulsating
Sun Temple, Konark,Odisha was built by Eastern Ganga King Narasimhadeva 1(1238-64) to enshrine the image of Sun God. He entire complex was designed in the form of a huge chariot drawn by seven spirited horses on twelve pairs of exquisitely carved wheels. The sanctum symbolises the majestic stride of Sun God and marks the culmination of the Orissan archilectural style. The Vimana of the deol has collapsed, while that of jagamohana and the nata mandapa are well preserved. The walls of the temple contain superb carving of divine, semi-divine and animal figures among floral and geometric ornamentations. He vivacious kanyas danseuses are remarkable for their sensuous modelling pulsating with human emotions which are absorbed in a variety of gestures and rhythmic actions. Such sculptures render the Orissan temple a class unto themselves
Just Pinned to moon daisy videos: How To Achieve Better Erections How To Achieve Better Erections ift.tt/21aluIj www.youtube.com/channel/UC9FNvFSGn_y2KTD4LINVXDQ youtu.be/VbfUQTF_G6A youtu.be/TS2T_tmYVBM youtu.be/c9ewm1qHUHc youtu.be/oYCWsr7RCuo youtu.be/Qk8Lfi3RMbM youtu.be/GpCcjIctSKI youtu.be/XRye-T9H6To youtu.be/824Pb_Ev8_c youtu.be/GLMIu5-Rt2Y youtu.be/G54f7R17Xj8 youtu.be/ZR2CamjEB-w youtu.be/1p0-WvO76L8 youtu.be/NKzU9wQhZf4 youtu.be/pCs3-lY9sts youtu.be/LdVSLmBYIzo youtu.be/2E4Slse2v8E youtu.be/cN95g2ZQdZg youtu.be/lfRlTGQk-wQ youtu.be/X0lKI_OhKpQ youtu.be/0wBbw78iKgM youtu.be/xQV1ajHho5Q youtu.be/DSKZDTB74ak youtu.be/qs6QTbUrVwk youtu.be/glPmKZLARWY youtu.be/gr6zLQSUwy0 youtu.be/AGZDskvY8_Y youtu.be/cwaXcjhHL6c youtu.be/3mPlFLpNKyI youtu.be/36MtCE-Y7Kg My name is Max Miller and ED nearly destroyed my life. Ill tell you about my embarrassing (and rather shocking) story in just a moment But first if youre suffering from ED trust me Youre not alone and I totally know how you feel. The good news is that on this page Im going to share with you an unusual and ancient secret method that not only cured my ED But now gives me bulging pulsating Superman- style erections that make my wife the most satisfied woman on earth. Your age doesnt matter. Men from 21 to 88 have raved about the effectiveness of this method We also know for a fact that this secret works especially well for men who are 30 40 50 or even 60 from the thousands of testimonials weve received. It doesnt matter whether youve suffered from ED for years or whether youve recently begun to go soft (or cant get it up at all) And it doesnt matter if youve tried pills pumps or other ED treatments like that because this isnt about that Because what Im about to give you is not a treatment. Its not a temporary fix that helps ease the symptoms... What Youre About To Discover Is A Breakthrough Solution That Addresses ED At Its Core. Keep reading and Ill give you a way to permanently eliminate EDand reverse it back to your teenage years so that you go from limp noodle to Man Of Steel. Imagine the confidence surging through your veins as you instantly achieve thick hard throbbing erections that your wife will gaze upon with wide-eyed wonder... And youll be able to achieve this on command! Now at last this secret method is available to regular guys like you and me. Imagine the sexual freedom youll have when you can instantly command a rock-hard pulsating erection to appear. And not just any erectionone that is even more potent than the ones you sported as a teenager. But unlike your adolescent erections Now YOU will be in complete command of your manhood. You wont pitch a tent at the wrong times But the moment you want to summon an erection itll be ready to make your wife explode with pleasure and scream your name to the heavens Because YOU (and only you) satisfy her like other man possibly could. And youll do this without pills Without pumps And without painful injections or risky surgery. Related search how to get harder erections get harder erections how to have harder erections firmer erections how to get rock hard erections how to get firmer erections cant get hard can t get erect how to achieve harder erections stronger harder erections how to erect longer and harder longer and harder erections how can i get harder erections how to get a hard on how to get really hard erections have harder erections how to have firmer erections ways to get harder erections how can i get stronger erections how to erect harder and longer how to get stiffer erections how to get a hardon and keep it how to get a good hard on get harder boners how to get powerful erections better erections how to get better erections how to have better erections get better erections how to achieve better erections how can i get better erections ift.tt/1tfZnoM
New York City skyline and Manhattan Bridge at night - Brooklyn view.
Camera: Sony a99 | Lens: Zeiss Vario-Sonnar T* 24-70mm f/2.8 (Sony
SAL-2470Z)
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The world stops spinning on its axis
as the city's lights search through the night
for hearts that flutter to the
syncopation of its pulsating lights.
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This was taken on a stormy night in Brooklyn as the waves in the East
River pounded the piers and the wind whipped against the faces of the
few brave souls who were still standing at the edge of Brooklyn Bridge
Park hoping to catch a first glimpse of the city's lights as they
flickered into view.
I am always amazed at the power of long exposure
photography to calm the chaos in a landscape, especially in a cityscape.
--
View more of my New York City photography at my website NY Through The
Lens.
View my photography profile on Google Plus: New York City photography by Vivienne Gucwa
To purchase any of my work view my site gallery for info here.
To use any of my photos commercially, feel free to contact me via
email at photos@nythroughthelens.com
Abraham "Bram" Stoker (8 November 1847 – 20 April 1912) was an Irish author, best known today for his 1897 Gothic novel, Dracula. During his lifetime, he was better known as the personal assistant of actor Henry Irving and business manager of the Lyceum Theatre in London, which Irving owned.
Arise! Awake! A mist descends upon the city streets. Sounds pulsate beneath our feet. The sky shudders as Macnas spirits are unleashed by Twilight.
Come out and celebrate with Danu, Goddess of the Divine and Dark: brutal and beautiful, warrior and mother, hallowed and holy, she protects and provokes, takes flight and goes underground.
Mummers and drummers follow and seek. Demons and angels love and loathe, the dead dance and the living transform. Men become gods, fools become Kings, souls are sanctified, reptiles are rarefied and the city streets transform as the journey unfolds.
Bram Stoker Festival are delighted to once again welcome Macnas to Dublin for a city-wide procession to launch the city into Samhain [Halloween].
Please take a note all my pictures are exclusively taken by me and copyright protected and should have my consent before using them.
*****
*****
Any reproduction, publication, modification, of any work contained herein for any use, personal or commercial, without my prior written permission is strictly prohibited. All rights reserved.
The Mursi people of Ethiopia’s Omo Valley have been called “one of the most fascinating tribes in Africa.”
We’d only been in the village just over two hours, and it was still mid-morning. But the sun was high: pulsating light and radiating heat. Following the men to the cattle pens made for a nice diversion, even though I felt anticipatory dread over what was to come.
First, a cow who hasn’t been bled recently must be caught and restrained. Then the bowman palpates an artery on the cows neck for piercing. The spurting fresh blood is caught in a gourd before the hole in the neck is plugged and the blood is drunk by the participants.
The cattle must be used to this treatment – once let loose, they are unfazed.
For the story, please visit: www.ursulasweeklywanders.com/culture/men-of-the-mursi-mor...
This is an old picture taken when I was quite new in Sweden, so you see that the actual amount of Toys hadn´t peaked yet...
Later on I would have the "great toy purge" sold most of it now I only collect LEGO, Jokers and china-saurs from the 80s
Peace and Noise!
Mushroombrain collector of memories
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Café Frequenters Episode 287
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Hello Maud, If my writing seems shaky it is because I am on my way to work in Denmark, the Ticket-fascist was here again, I am so happy I have a ticket, because my head is pulsating with hangover since the midsummer party at Silvas place, nice to see you lot again...
I guess that is all I wanted to say? well that an that this maniac is screaming on the bloke behind me, I would pay his ticket if that fascist just would shut up...
Take Care my beloved old friend!
/ Johnny
The Mursi people of Ethiopia’s Omo Valley have been called “one of the most fascinating tribes in Africa.”
We’d only been in the village just over two hours, and it was still mid-morning. But the sun was high: pulsating light and radiating heat. Following the men to the cattle pens made for a nice diversion, even though I felt anticipatory dread over what was to come.
First, a cow who hasn’t been bled recently must be caught and restrained. Then the bowman palpates an artery on the cows neck for piercing. The spurting fresh blood is caught in a gourd before the hole in the neck is plugged and the blood is drunk by the participants.
The cattle must be used to this treatment – once let loose, they are unfazed.
For the story, please visit: www.ursulasweeklywanders.com/culture/men-of-the-mursi-mor...
Just Pinned to moon daisy videos: Better Erection In Morning Better Erection In Morning ift.tt/21aluIj Ancient All-Natural Chinese Secret Gives 79 Year Old Man His First Rock-Hard Erection Since 1983 Now YOU Can Get Rock-Hard Erections On CommandWithout Pills Pumps Injections Or Side EffectsAnd Be A Man Of Steel In The Bedroom Every Time. Dear Friend My name is Max Miller and ED nearly destroyed my life. Ill tell you about my embarrassing (and rather shocking) story in just a moment But first if youre suffering from ED trust me Youre not alone and I totally know how you feel. The good news is that on this page Im going to share with you an unusual and ancient secret method that not only cured my ED But now gives me bulging pulsating Superman- style erections that make my wife the most satisfied woman on earth. Your age doesnt matter. Men from 21 to 88 have raved about the effectiveness of this method We also know for a fact that this secret works especially well for men who are 30 40 50 or even 60 from the thousands of testimonials weve received. It doesnt matter whether youve suffered from ED for years or whether youve recently begun to go soft (or cant get it up at all) And it doesnt matter if youve tried pills pumps or other ED treatments like that because this isnt about that Because what Im about to give you is not a treatment. Its not a temporary fix that helps ease the symptoms... What Youre About To Discover Is A Breakthrough Solution That Addresses ED At Its Core. Keep reading and Ill give you a way to permanently eliminate EDand reverse it back to your teenage years so that you go from limp noodle to Man Of Steel. Imagine the confidence surging through your veins as you instantly achieve thick hard throbbing erections that your wife will gaze upon with wide-eyed wonder... And youll be able to achieve this on command! Related search: harder erection exercises harder erection supplements harder erection foods harder erection herbs harder erection naturally harder erection tips harder erection home remedies harder erection after quitting smoking increase erection angle increase erection and stamina get a harder erection and last longer keep your erection harder and firmer for longer harder to maintain an erection a harder erection naturally harder bigger erection increase erection blood flow improve erection by food better harder erection harder erection cream better erection control improve circulation erection harder erection over the counter creatine harder erection cardio harder erection circumcision harder erection harder erection diet increase erection duration improve erection diet harder erection exercises video increase erectionexercise get harder erection exercises harder erection fast harder erection for longer harder firmer erection harder fuller erection increase erection frequency increase erection firmness improve erection firmness improve erection food increase erection girth harder to get erection harder to get erection when cold harder to get erection at night harder to get erection when drunk harder to get erection when sick harder to get erection standing up get harder erection naturally harder erection how to increase erection hardness improve erection hardness naturally improve erection home remedy better erection hypnosis better erection herbs erection harder in morning better erection in morning increase in erection erection harder after i quit smoking instant harder erection jelqing harder erection harder erection kegel www.youtube.com/channel/UC9FNvFSGn_y2KTD4LINVXDQ youtu.be/XFiF8E6opT8 youtu.be/XiU0hNBy-DM youtu.be/tEvJY0G9I1w youtu.be/hBwXn9jvCJo youtu.be/EdGHh2mGc7c ift.tt/1S1No2B
Doodz OMG!!! Wootini is supremely proud to present Little Who of What: New Prints by The Little Friends of Printmaking, an exhibition of... er, new prints by award-winning artists & designers The Little Friends of Printmaking. The Little Friends’ screenprinted work, pulsating with eye-scratching color and bristling with humor, has earned them an international reputation as an exciting new voice in art & design. Come check them out now, while you can still pretend that you’ve always been into their stuff. (Don’t worry, we won’t tell.)
The Little Friends of Printmaking are J W & Melissa Buchanan, a husband-and-wife team of artists & designers based out of Milwaukee, WI. Originally trained as fine art printmakers, their dalliance in silkscreened concert posters quickly turned into a design career. In 2006, they received the Young Guns award from the Art Directors’ Club, honoring the world’s finest emerging creatives under 30. Their work has been exhibited internationally, and they have been published in the recent books New Masters of Poster Design [Rockport], Two-Faced: The Changing Face of Portraiture [iDN], and Beasts! [Fantagraphics].
15 exposiciones de 15 segundos con teleobjetivo 300 mm f/2.8, ISO 10.000, cámara Sony A7S modificada. Centro, (AR): 11h 38m 56s, (Dec.): -63° 26' 52”. Campo angular: 6,7º x 4.6º. Escala: 5.2 arcsec/pixel.
IC 2948, nebulosa de la Gallina Corredora, nebulosa lambda Centauri. Es una nebulosa de emisión asociada a un cúmulo estelar abierto en la constelación de Centaurus, junto a la estrella lambda de dicha constelación. Se encuentra a unos 6.500 años luz.
Muestra glóbulos de Bok, que frecuentemente aparecen asociados a regiones de formación estelar. Sin embargo, no hay evidencias de formación de estrellas en los góbulos de esta nebulosa.
Lambda Centauri, HD 100841 / HR 4467 / HIP 56561 / SAO 251472. Es una estrella en la constelación de Centauro de magnitud aparente +3,12 que se encuentra a 420 años luz. Es miembro del subgrupo «Centaurus Inferior-Crux», dentro de la gran Asociación estelar Scorpius Centaurus.2
Lambda Centauri es una gigante blanco-azulada de tipo espectral B9III. Tiene una temperatura superficial de unos 10.100 K y brilla con una luminosidad, incluida la radiación ultravioleta emitida, 955 veces mayor que la luminosidad solar. Su masa es 4,5 veces mayor que la solar y una edad aproximada de 125 millones de años.2
Lambda Centauri presenta un contenido metálico distinto al del Sol. Su abundancia relativa de hierro es 2,6 veces mayor que la solar, observada también en otros metales como calcio, níquel, sodio y zirconio. El contenido de este último elemento es casi diez veces superior al del Sol. Por el contrario, y al igual que en otras estrellas de la Asociación estelar Centaurus Inferior-Crux, el carbono y el silicio son algo menos abundantes que en el Sol.
Lambda Centauri tiene una compañera estelar, visualmente separada de ella 0,73 segundos de arco, de magnitud aparente +6,8.4 Puede ser una estrella de clase A media con una masa aproximadamente doble de la masa solar. Su separación media respecto a la primaria es de al menos 90 UA, empleando más de 335 años en completar una órbita en torno a ella.
Los glóbulos oscuros, conocidos como Glóbulos de Thackeray, fueron descubiertos por el astrónomo sudafricano A. David Thackeray en 1950. En las imágenes de 2MASS, seis estrellas son visibles dentro del glóbulo más grande.
IC 2944. Es un cúmulo estelar abierto y parte de la nebulosidad de IC 2948 que se extiende hacia la estrella λ Centauri.
IC 2872. Es una nebulosidad de emisión asociada a la nebulosa IC 2948 (nebulosa de la Gallina Corredora).
NGC 3766, cúmulo de la Perla. Es un cúmulo estelar abierto en la constelación de Centauro. Su magnitud es de 5,3 y presenta un tamaño aparente de 12 minutos de arco. Fue descubierto por Lacaille en 1752.
NGC 3766 contiene 137 estrellas listadas, pero muchas probablemente no son miembros, y solo 36 tienen datos fotométricos precisos. , con una edad estimada de 14.4 millones de años. El cúmulo contiene once estrellas Be , dos supergigantes rojas y cuatro estrellas Ap.
Se han descubierto 36 ejemplos de un tipo inusual de estrella variable. Estas estrellas de tipo B pulsantes de rotación rápida varían solo en unas pocas centésimas de magnitud con períodos de menos de medio día. Son estrellas de la secuencia principal , más calientes que δ variables Scuti y más frías que las estrellas B que pulsan lentamente.
IC 2966. Es una pequeña nebulosa de emisión en la constelación de Musca. Fue descubierta por James Dunlop en 1826.
15 exposures of 15 seconds with 300mm f / 2.8 telephoto lens, ISO 10,000, modified Sony A7S camera. Center, (AR): 11h 38m 56s, (Dec.): -63 ° 26 '52 ". Angular field: 6.7º x 4.6º. Scale: 5.2 arcsec / pixel.
IC 2948, Runner Hen nebula, Centauri lambda nebula. It is an emission nebula associated with an open star cluster in the constellation of Centaurus, next to the lambda star of said constellation. It is about 6,500 light years away.
It shows Bok globules, which frequently appear associated with regions of star formation. However, there is no evidence of star formation in the lobes of this nebula.
Lambda Centauri, HD 100841 / HR 4467 / HIP 56561 / SAO 251472. It is a star in the constellation of Centaur of apparent magnitude +3,12 that is 420 light years. He is a member of the subgroup "Centaurus Inferior-Crux", within the great Star Association Scorpius Centaurus.2
Lambda Centauri is a blue-white giant of spectral type B9III. It has a surface temperature of about 10,100 K and shines with a luminosity, including the ultraviolet radiation emitted, 955 times greater than the solar luminosity. Its mass is 4.5 times greater than solar and an approximate age of 125 million years.2
Lambda Centauri has a metallic content different from that of the Sun. Its relative abundance of iron is 2.6 times greater than the solar one, also observed in other metals such as calcium, nickel, sodium and zirconium. The content of this last element is almost ten times higher than that of the Sun. On the contrary, and as in other stars of the Centaurus Inferior-Crux Star Association, carbon and silicon are somewhat less abundant than in the Sun.
Lambda Centauri has a stellar companion, visually separated from it, 0.73 seconds of arc, of apparent magnitude +6.8.4 It can be an average class A star with an approximately double mass of the solar mass. Its average separation from the primary one is at least 90 AU, using more than 335 years to complete an orbit around it.
The dark globules, known as Thackeray globules, were discovered by the South African astronomer A. David Thackeray in 1950. In the 2MASS images, six stars are visible within the largest globule.
IC 2944. It is an open star cluster and part of the nebulosity of IC 2948 that extends towards the star λ Centauri.
IC 2872. It is a emission nebulosity associated with the nebula IC 2948 (Nebula of the Running Hen).
NGC 3766, Pearl cluster. It is an open star cluster in the constellation Centaurus. Its magnitude is 5.3 and it has an apparent size of 12 arc minutes. It was discovered by Lacaille in 1752.
NGC 3766 contains 137 listed stars, but many are probably not members, and only 36 have accurate photometric data. , with an estimated age of 14.4 million years. The cluster contains eleven Be stars, two red supergiants and four Ap stars.
36 examples of an unusual type of variable star have been discovered. These rapidly rotating pulsating type B stars vary only a few hundredths of a magnitude with periods of less than half a day. They are stars of the main sequence, hotter than Scuti variable δ and colder than slow pulsating B stars.
IC 2966. It is a small emission nebula in the Musca constellation. It was discovered by James Dunlop in 1826.
via modemworld.me/2016/11/29/ashemi-oriental-neon-in-second-l...
Ashemi, Azure Star (122, 101, 27) - Moderate
Chill out in a colourful garden, situated right in the middle of the pulsating city. Many peaceful spots to enjoy and relax with friends. City, garden, colours, gallery, flowers, asian, lights, chill, romantic, love, pictures, photo, landscape, art
London's essence is woven from the threads of tradition, diversity, and resilience. Its streets hum with the echoes of centuries past, while its skyline stretches towards the future. From the regal grandeur of its palaces to the pulsating energy of its markets, London is a city where history dances with innovation, inviting all who wander its streets to become part of its timeless story.
British postcard by Star-Images, London, no. Lock 05. Photo: SKA Films, 1998. Dexter Fletcher in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels (Guy Ritchie, 1998).
One of our favourite films of the 1990sis the hip and highly stylised British gangster comedy Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels (Guy Ritchie, 1998). The story revolves around four friends who become indebted to the local crime lord after a card game goes horribly wrong. The debuting Ritchie brings us an original and hilarious look into the London criminal underground. The film is unforgettable for its inventive, pyrotechnic camera work, great actors, and its flawless, puzzle-perfect screenplay.
The quartet of twenty-something East End friends in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels are the cool and handsome Eddie (Nick Moran), Bacon (Jason Statham), Tom (Jason Flemyng), and Soap (Dexter Fletcher) It was Statham's film debut and the former diver would go on to star in such action films as The Transporter (Corey Yuen, 2002) and its three sequels. Sting appears briefly in several scenes as JD, Eddie's bar-owning father. P.H. Moriarty is wonderful as the hard-as-nails villain and crime boss 'Hatchet' Harry Lonsdale. And former Wales international footballer Vinnie Jones seems to naturally fit his part as debt-collector Big Chris, both tough guy, and family man. It's a film full of testosterone. In fact, one of the very few females in the film doesn't even speak, though she handles a machine gun fairly well. The acting from all involved is great. Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels was nominated for a British Academy Film Award in 1998 for the outstanding British Film of the Year. Based on a $1.35 million budget, the film had a box office gross of over $28 million, making it a commercial success.
With Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels (1998), Guy Ritchie took his first step in establishing his own brand. His energetic, ultra-contemporary camera work incorporates such devices as slow motion, fast motion, and freeze-frame coupled with narration. It actually expands upon Martin Scorsese's visual style and camera movements in Mean Streets and Goodfellas. Critics also compared Ritchie's film with the works of Quentin Tarantino and Danny Boyle's 'Trainspotting' but Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels is inventive and a true original. Ritchie's film is an involved, complex, and layered work and is essential viewing. The soundtrack is first-rate, from the hits of James Brown to 'I Wanna Be Your Dog' by The Stooges. The groovy, pulsating music and lyrics are often succinctly synchronized with the action and dialogue in the film, creating a theatrical rhythm. While the picture's main focus is on a group of lads who invest money in a high-stakes, rigged card game and lose, the broader story concerns approximately eight different groups of criminals whose paths cross during various illegal pursuits: money, guns, drugs, even revenge. Guy Ritchie's film debut is quite violent, but it's also humorous throughout.
Laura Abraham at AllMovie: "A rabid, farcical look at gangsters in East End London, it contains mayhem at the center of every scene and gains additional intensity from the slow-motion technique Ritchie employs in many of his death sequences. Ritchie's manipulation of these sequences forces his audience to experience the full pain of the events by seeing every detail frame by frame, something particularly apparent in the director's handling of the boxing-ring poker game that catalyses the story. A series of different angles and techniques convey the pressure each character at the table is feeling, and the use of slow-motion makes it impossible for the audience to ignore the pain and anguish that Eddy (expertly played by Nick Moran) must feel when he realizes he is losing a lot of money."
Sources: Laura Abraham (AllMovie), Wikipedia, and IMDb.
And, please check out our blog European Film Star Postcards.
n the heart of November, as winter's darkness begins to envelop the land, there is a place where the summer's glow never fades. In a closed, warm space, she gently turns up her headphones and steps into a musical labyrinth created by the latest tracks from Burning Man 2023. She closes her eyes and lets herself be carried away by the pulsating rhythms and fluid tones, reminiscent of the unforgettable festival in the Nevada desert.
Here, in the glow of a dim, soft lamp, she is away from the cold, dark world outside. Her feet move in time with the music, and she feels connected to the vast landscapes and colorful characters from Burning Man. It's an inner journey, a tribute to camaraderie, and the power of music to create warmth in the midst of winter's chill.
In this moment, her world is filled with light and sound, as if summer never left her. She dances as if no one is watching, letting the music transport her back to the moments shared with friends under the stars in the Nevada desert. It's the dance of darkness, a way to preserve the magic of summer in the heart of winter.
In winter's embrace, she dances alone,
With Burning Man's echoes in her headphones known.
Memories of summer, still vivid and clear,
In closed spaces, where the heart finds its frontier.
Her feet follow the rhythm, just like before,
In the embrace of music, summer's reborn once more.
Description: Powwows are large social gatherings of Native Americans who follow traditional dances started centuries ago by their ancestors, and which continually evolve to include contemporary aspects. These events of drum music, dancing, singing, artistry and food, are attended by Natives and non-Natives, all of whom join in the dancing and take advantage of the opportunity to see old friends and teach the traditional ways to a younger generation. During the National Powwow, the audience see dancers in full regalia compete in several dance categories, including Men and Women's Golden Age (ages 50 and older); Men's Fancy Dance, Grass and Traditional (Northern and Southern); Women's Jingle Dress, Fancy Shawl, and Traditional (Northern and Southern); Teens (13-17); Juniors (6-12) and Tiny Tots (ages 5 and younger). The drum groups are the heart of all powwows and provide the pulsating and thunderous beats that accompany a dancer's every movement. The powwow is led by three "host drums" that showcase three distinct styles of singing (Northern, Southern and contemporary) and represent the best examples of each style. The drum contest highlights groups of 10 to 12 members each, and they sing traditional family songs that are passed down orally from one generation to the next. The National Museum of the American Indian sponsored the National Powwow in 2002, 2005, and 2007 as a way of presenting to the public the diversity and social traditions of contemporary Native cultures.
Creator/Photographer: Cynthia Frankenburg
Medium: Digital photograph
Culture: American Indian
Geography: USA
Date: 2007
Repository: National Museum of the American Indian
Accession number: 20070812_01a_csf_ps_056
In street photography, finding colour synergy is like striking gold. It's a thrilling chase for moments where vibrant hues unexpectedly align, turning mundane scenes into visual feasts. I love finding these spontaneous, colourful encounters that transform the ordinary into the extraordinary, capturing the pulsating heart of street life.
Poem.
Golden Cherry,
Yellow Larch.
Orange Birch.
Bronze Ferns.
Upright, bottle-green Spruce.
Stately, cone-laden, Scots Pine.
Bushes of Gorse and Broom.
Rock-faces.
Hills.
Mosses.
Algae.
Fungi.
And a mist “melting” into an Autumnal sky.
Forests can be sterile,
too uniform.
Not here.
A lavish, richly painted canvas.
Atmospheric.
With an ambience of pulsating,
multi-coloured, vibrant life.
There are some odd, pulsating artifacts in this video but if you watch it in lightbox they seem to disappear or diminish. :(
The Mursi people of Ethiopia’s Omo Valley have been called “one of the most fascinating tribes in Africa.”
We’d only been in the village just over two hours, and it was still mid-morning. But the sun was high: pulsating light and radiating heat. Following the men to the cattle pens made for a nice diversion, even though I felt anticipatory dread over what was to come.
First, a cow who hasn’t been bled recently must be caught and restrained.
For the story, please visit: www.ursulasweeklywanders.com/culture/men-of-the-mursi-mor...
The Path to Freedom and Love and their Significance in World. Theodora’s Prophetic Revelation
Between these two poles lies the balancing factor that unites the two — unites the will that rays towards the head with the thoughts which, as they flow into deeds wrought with love, are, so to say, felt with the heart. This means of union is the life of feeling, which is able to direct itself towards the will as well as towards the thoughts. In our ordinary consciousness we live in an element by means of which we grasp, on the one side, what comes to expression in our will-permeated thought with its predisposition to freedom, while on the other side, we try to ensure that what passes over into our deeds is filled more and more with thoughts. And what forms the bridge connecting both has since ancient times been called Wisdom. (Diagram XI.)n his fairy-tale, The Green Snake and the Beautiful Lily, Goethe has given indications of these ancient traditions in the figures of the Golden King, the Silver King, and the Brazen King. We have already shown from other points of view how these three elements must come to life again, but in an entirely different form — these three elements to which ancient instinctive knowledge pointed and which can come to life again only if man acquires the knowledge yielded by Imagination, Inspiration, Intuition.From: The Bridge Between Universal Spirituality and the Physical Constitution of Man The Path to Freedom and Love and their Significance in World Events
December 19, 1920.... in english from Rudolf Steiner comments about Goethe's Work
Through the way in which Goethe lets gold flow through this fairy tale, he shows how he looks back into the time in which wisdom — for which gold also stands, hence, “The Golden King of Wisdom” — was exposed to such persecutions as those described. Now, he sought to show past, present and future. Goethe saw instinctively into the future of eastern European civilization. He could see how unjustifiable is the way in which the problem of sin and death worked there. If we wished to designate, not quite inappropriately perhaps, the nationality of the man who is then led to the Temple and the Beautiful Lily, who appears at first as without vigor as if crippled, then, from what we have had to say recently about the culture of the East and of Russia, you will not consider it unreasonable to deem this man to be a Russian. In so doing, you will almost certainly follow the line of Goethe's instinct. The secret of European evolution in the fifth post-Atlantean epoch lies concealed within this fairy tale, just as truly as Goethe was able to conceal it in his Faust, especially in the second part, as we know from his own statement. It is clearly to be seen in Goethe — we have already shown it in various respects; later it can be shown in others — that he begins to regard the world and to feel himself in it, in accord with the fundamental demand of the fifth post-Atlantean epoch.From: Inner Impulses of Evolution ...VI Ancient Cultural Impulses Spiritualized in Goethe. The Cosmic Knowledge of the Knights Templar
As he lay desperately ill, he had a momentous experience, passing through a kind of Initiation. To begin with, he was not actually conscious of it but it worked in his soul as a kind of poetic inspiration and the process by which it flowed into his various creations was most remarkable. It flashes up in his poem entitled “The Mysteries,” which his closest friends have considered to be one of his most profound creations. And indeed this fragment is so profound that Goethe was never able to recapture the power to formulate its conclusion. The culture of the day was incapable of giving external form to the depths of life pulsating in this poem. It must be regarded as issuing from one of the deepest founts of Goethe's soul and is a book with seven seals for all his commentators. Then, however, the Initiation took increasing effect in him and finally, as he grew more conscious of it, he was able to produce that remarkable prose-poem known as “The Fairy Tale of the Green Snake and the Beautiful Lily”; — one of the most profound writings in all literature. Those who are able to interpret it rightly know a great deal of the Rosicrucian wisdom.
We often find that persons who have not gone far enough into the matter will ask how a man such as Goethe can on the one hand bear within him certain secrets of the human soul, and on the other hand be so often torn by passion, as he is found to be by those who read his life-story in a rather superficial way. In fact, there was in Goethe something that can be called, in a crude sense, a double nature. To a superficial view the two sides can hardly be brought into harmony. On the one hand there is the great, high-minded soul who could bring forth certain portions of the second part of Faust, and gave expression to many deep secrets of human nature in the Fairy-Story of the Green Snake and the Beautiful Lily; and one would like to forget everything one knows from biographies of Goethe and pay homage only to the soul who was capable of such achievements. On the other side, there appears in Goethe, tormenting him and often causing him pangs of conscience, his other nature, “human, all-too-human”, in many respects. In earlier times the two natures of man were not so widely separate in their development; they could not diverge in this way. A person with a biography comparable with Goethe's could not rise to such heights as are revealed in certain passages of the second part of Faust or in the Fairy-Story of the Green Snake and the Beautiful Lily, and at the same time be so divided in his soul. That was not possible in earlier times. It has become possible only in later days, because there now exists in human nature something we have already spoken of — the part of the soul that has become unconscious, and the part of the organism that has died. The part that has remained alive can be so elevated and purified that the impulse which leads on to the Fairy-Story of the Green Snake and the Beautiful Lily; can be nurtured there, while the other part may remain exposed to the attacks of the outer world. And because the forces described are able to make their abode there, circumstances may arise in which there is very little agreement with the higher ego of the person. It should be understood that the soul living in Goethe had once belonged to an Egyptian Initiate, and had then lived in Greece as a sculptor and a disciple of philosophy; then, between this Greek incarnation and the one as Goethe, there comes an incarnation (probably only one) which I have not yet been able to find. If we keep this in mind, we can see how a soul who in former incarnations could rule the entire man can be led downwards, and then has to relinquish a part of the total human nature, which then lies open to the influence of evil forces.
That is what is mysterious and so hard to understand in a nature such as Goethe's; but by the same token it brings to light many hidden aspects of the human soul in modern times. Everything brought about by the duality of human nature lays hold, in the first place, of the Intellectual Soul, and the Intellectual Soul divides into those “two souls”, whereof one can sink fairly deeply into matter and the other can rise into the spiritual.
The middle of the nineteenth century was a much more incisive point in man's spiritual history than people can realise today. The period before it is represented in Schiller and Goethe; it is followed by something quite different, which can understand the preceding period very little. What we now call the social question, in the widest sense — a sense that humanity has not yet grasped, but should grasp and must grasp later on — was born only in the second half of the nineteenth century. And we can understand this fact only if we ask: why, in such significant and representative considerations as those attempted by Schiller in his “Aesthetic Letters” and represented pictorially by Goethe in his “Tale of the Green Snake and the Beautiful Lily,” do we find no trace of the peculiar way of thinking we are impelled to develop today about the structure of society — although Goethe in his “Tale” is evidently hinting at political forms?
If we approach the “Aesthetic Letters” and the “Tale” with inner understanding, we can feel the presence in them of a powerful spirituality which humanity has since lost. Anyone reading the “Aesthetic Letters” should feel: in the very way of writing an element of soul and spirit is at work which is not present in even the most outstanding figures today; and it would be stupid to think that anyone could now write something like Goethe's fairy tale. Since the middle of the nineteenth century this spirituality has not been here. It does not speak directly to present-day men and can really speak only through the medium of Spiritual Science, which extends our range of vision and can also enter into earlier conditions in man's history. It would really be best if people would acknowledge that without spiritual knowledge they cannot understand Schiller and Goethe. Every scene in “Faust” can prove this to you.
Looking back before the nineteenth century to the end of the eighteenth century, we can observe a significant impulse. It was the impulse working in Schiller when he wrote his Letters on the Aesthetic Education of Man; this was the time, too, when Goethe was stirred by his dealings with Schiller. They led Goethe to express the impulse which lay behind Schiller's “Aesthetic Letters” in his own tale, “The Green Snake and the Beautiful Lily.” You can read about the connection between Schiller's “Aesthetic Letters” and Goethe's fairy-tale in my recent small book on Goethe.
Goethe has not left the source uncertain from whose depths he has drawn his inspiration. In another tale, The New Paris, he gives in a veiled manner the history of his own inner enlightenment. Many will remain incredulous if we say that, in this dream, Goethe represents himself just at the boundary between the third and fourth sub-race of our fifth root-race. For him, the myth of Paris and Helen is a symbolic representation of this boundary. And as he — in a dream — conjures up before his eyes in a new form the myth of Paris, he feels he is casting a searching glance into the development of humanity. What such an insight into the past means to the inner eye, he tells us in the Prophecies of Bakis, which are also full of occult references:The past likewise will Bakis reveal to thee; for even the past oft lies, oh blind world, like a riddle before thee. Who knows the past knows also the future: both are joined in To-day in one complete whole.
Hence Goethe was stirred to write his “Tale of the Green Snake and the Beautiful Lily,” in which not only three but about twenty powers of the soul are described, not in concepts, but in pictorial forms, open to various interpretations. They are headed by the Golden King, who represents (not symbolises) wisdom, the Silver King who represents beautiful appearance, the Bronze King, who represents power, and Love who crowns them all. Everything else, too, indicates soul-forces;The three worlds are here represented as two regions separated from one another by a river. The river itself stands for the astral plane. On this side of it is the physical world, on the other side the spiritual (Devachan), where dwells the beautiful lily, the symbol of man's higher nature. In her kingdom, man must strive if he would unite his lower with his higher nature. In the abyss — that is, in the physical world — dwells the serpent which symbolizes the self of man. Here too is a temple of initiation, where reign four kings, one golden, one silver, one bronze, and a fourth of an irregular mixture of the three metals. Goethe, who was an alchemist, has clothed in alchemic terminology what he had to impart of his mystic experiences. The three kings represent the three higher forces of man: Wisdom (Gold), Beauty (Silver), and Strength (Bronze). As long as man lives in his lower nature, these three forces are in him disordered and chaotic. This period in the evolution of man is represented by the mixed king. But when man has so purified himself that the three forces work together in perfect harmony, and he can freely use them, then the way into the realm of the spiritual lies open before him. The still unpurified man is represented by a youth who, without having attained inner purity, would unite himself with the beautiful lily. Through this union he becomes paralyzed.Goethe here wished to point out the danger to which a man exposes himself who would force an entrance into the super-sensible region before he has severed himself from his lower self. Only when love has permeated the whole man, only when the lower nature has been sacrificed, can the initiation into the higher truths and powers begin. This sacrifice is expressed by the serpent yielding of its own accord, and forming a bridge of its body across the river — that is to say, the astral plane — between the two kingdoms, of the senses and of the spirit. At first man must accept the higher truths in the form in which they have been given to him in the imagery of the various religions. This form is personified as the man with the lamp. This lamp has the peculiarity of only giving light where there is already light, meaning that the religious truths presuppose a receptive, believing disposition. Their light shines where the light of faith is present. This lamp, however, has yet another quality, “of turning all stones into gold, all wood into silver, dead animals into precious stones, and of destroying all metals,” meaning the power of faith which changes the inner nature of the individual. There are about twenty characters in this allegory, all symbolical of certain forces in man's nature and, during the course of the action, the purifying of man is described, as he rises to the heights where, in his union with his higher self, he can be initiated into the secrets of existence. This state is symbolized by the Temple, formerly hidden in the abyss, being brought to the surface, and rising above the river — the astral plane. Every passage, every sentence in the allegory is significant. The more deeply one studies the tale, the more comprehensible and clear the whole becomes, and he who set forth the esoteric quintessence of this tale at the same time has given us the substance of the Anthroposophical outlook on life.Goethe, in his Legend of the Green Snake and the Beautiful Lily, has treated the forces of the human soul as three members, or forces; Power, Appearance, and Knowledge or Wisdom — or, as the Bronze King, the Silver King and the Golden King. Many remarkable things are spoken of in this legend, regarding the governing relationships which are being prepared for the present and which will live into the future. We can point out that what Goethe symbolizes by the Bronze king, the force of Power, is that which spreads over the world through the English-speaking peoples. This is necessary because the culture of the Consciousness Soul coincides with the special qualities of the British and American peoples.From: Social and Anti-Social Forces in the Human Being A lecture by Rudolf Steiner Bern, December 12, 1918
GA 186
you can read this in a article...by Rudolf Steiner
Sur la voie de la connaissance, il faudrait en connaître beaucoup pour rayonner sur toutes les raisons universelles, bien collées au sol de leurs pensées vers* la terre à terre,atterré par la lumière verte vient lire les lignes courbes des chemins de vie. L'effort d'attendre un moment que le train passe et espérer un rayon vert.
*vers de terre qui laissent les rayons du soleil purifier notre terre ou vers luisant qui éclairent la nuit dans la forêt des pensées inutiles qui serpentent au fond de l'esprit; le rayon vert c'est le dernier , l'orange du couchant rassemble les signes dans un faisceau d'idées qui éclaire les serpents entre les fenêtres du tramway vert,comme un autre signe d'un lien avec le savoir, le serpent devient un pont au moment exact deux trams se croisent un rayon se forme, le serpent devient droit pour laisser passer la lumière qui l'éclaire...
Starling (Sturnus vulgaris). During the winter months, the numbers of Starlings present within Britain and Ireland are swelled by the arrival of individuals from breeding populations located elsewhere within Europe. The numbers arriving vary from one winter to the next and are influenced by weather conditions on the Continent. Wintering Starlings roost communally and vast flocks may congregate at favoured sites, typically performing amazing aerobatic displays (known as ‘murmurations’) before dropping into the roost, which may be a reedbed, a group of conifers or a human structure, such as a pier. With many thousands of birds using a roost there is the potential for nuisance, their droppings fouling the ground beneath and around the chosen site.
These vast flocks have more humble beginnings, with small flocks of Starlings coming together as dusk approaches. Gradually, as more and more birds join the gathering, a huge pulsating flock is formed. As the light begins to fade so part of the flock will plunge down towards the chosen roost, almost as if testing its nerve to see who will be the first bird to drop into the roost itself. The birds have good reason to be nervous; these large gatherings attract the attentions of predators like Peregrine and Sparrowhawk. Photo by Nick Dobbs, Southbourne, Dorset 16-06-2024
Abraham "Bram" Stoker (8 November 1847 – 20 April 1912) was an Irish author, best known today for his 1897 Gothic novel, Dracula. During his lifetime, he was better known as the personal assistant of actor Henry Irving and business manager of the Lyceum Theatre in London, which Irving owned.
Arise! Awake! A mist descends upon the city streets. Sounds pulsate beneath our feet. The sky shudders as Macnas spirits are unleashed by Twilight.
Come out and celebrate with Danu, Goddess of the Divine and Dark: brutal and beautiful, warrior and mother, hallowed and holy, she protects and provokes, takes flight and goes underground.
Mummers and drummers follow and seek. Demons and angels love and loathe, the dead dance and the living transform. Men become gods, fools become Kings, souls are sanctified, reptiles are rarefied and the city streets transform as the journey unfolds.
Bram Stoker Festival are delighted to once again welcome Macnas to Dublin for a city-wide procession to launch the city into Samhain [Halloween].
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Having started their FA Cup run at Peterborough Sports back in September Stourbridge finally bowed out with their heads held high aftyer a pulsating tie at a packed Adams Park
This is the actress Dorea Schmidt. I met her at night on the National Mall. She had gone for a run in between shows of a play she was starring in at the Arena Stage. We talked about all sorts of things and were on the same wavelength. I took this photo when she turned for a moment of reflection to a question. We are all headed to a set of crossroads, at which point we'll have to decide what's next? Reflection, courage, commitment, and some humor with a touch of adventure will get you a long way. But, in the end the choice is only ours. The row of Bokeh lights that cuts across Dorea's eyes and disheveled hair gives the image a pulsating tension and urgency that often accompanies the challenging nature of arriving at a crossroads. Washington DC, 27 January 2018.
Abraham "Bram" Stoker (8 November 1847 – 20 April 1912) was an Irish author, best known today for his 1897 Gothic novel, Dracula. During his lifetime, he was better known as the personal assistant of actor Henry Irving and business manager of the Lyceum Theatre in London, which Irving owned.
Arise! Awake! A mist descends upon the city streets. Sounds pulsate beneath our feet. The sky shudders as Macnas spirits are unleashed by Twilight.
Come out and celebrate with Danu, Goddess of the Divine and Dark: brutal and beautiful, warrior and mother, hallowed and holy, she protects and provokes, takes flight and goes underground.
Mummers and drummers follow and seek. Demons and angels love and loathe, the dead dance and the living transform. Men become gods, fools become Kings, souls are sanctified, reptiles are rarefied and the city streets transform as the journey unfolds.
Bram Stoker Festival are delighted to once again welcome Macnas to Dublin for a city-wide procession to launch the city into Samhain [Halloween].
The Nature of Trees
I know that trees
don't dream.
But, how do I know?
In a winter afternoon,
I can see branches move,
thru a chancery window.
No green, only branches
that limber in the breeze.
What are these trees
telling me? I know...
something leaps inside
and pulsates with joy.
So they are sharing
something of their
wonder with me.
There is a connection...
and within this bond
they are telling me
tales beyond words.
Could it be their
... dreams?
-rc
The Mursi people of Ethiopia’s Omo Valley have been called “one of the most fascinating tribes in Africa.”
We’d only been in the village just over two hours, and it was still mid-morning. But the sun was high: pulsating light and radiating heat. Following the men to the cattle pens made for a nice diversion, even though I felt anticipatory dread over what was to come.
First, a cow who hasn’t been bled recently must be caught and restrained.
For the story, please visit: www.ursulasweeklywanders.com/culture/men-of-the-mursi-mor...
c/n B3-06-75
Built in 1977 and served with 12 and 208 Squadrons as well as with 237 Operational Conversion Unit (237OCU).
In 1983 she took part in the only deployment of Buccaneers to the Falkland Islands and later that year she was one of six deployed to Cyprus to support ‘Operation Pulsator’, the British peacekeeping efforts in Lebanon. During this operation she was one of the pair which carried out a low-level flight over Beirut to intimidate insurgents.
In 1991 she flew 14 operational missions in the Gulf War, carrying a laser designator pod which at that time could not be carried by Tornado.
Struck off charge in January 1995, she was saved by the Buccaneer Aircrew Association and arrived at Elvington in May 1996. She is preserved in her genuine Gulf War markings.
Yorkshire Air Museum
Elvington, North Yorkshire, UK.
1st September 2020
THE ALBUMS
June 23rd 2008 sees the re-release of a salvo of Orb albums through Universal Catalogue. All four albums, Pomme Fritz, Orbus Terrarum, Orblivion & Cydonia were all originally released on Island Records.
All four albums come as 2-CD packages and include fully re-mastered versions of the original albums, deluxe, expanded packaging with sleeve notes from Kris Needs plus rare and previously unreleased mixes from the period of the original album releases.
Released in July 1994, Pomme Fritz was the bands first album for Island Records having released their first two albums for Big Life. By now something of a ‘household name’ thanks to the success of 2nd album U.F.Orb, Pomme Fritz, sub-titled The Orb’s Little Album, came as something of a shock to fans and critics alike. At 41 minutes it was, in Orb terms, something of a sprint and following the almost ‘pop’ sensibility of tracks such as Perpetual Dawn & Little Fluffy Clouds the disjointed, dissonance of Pomme Fritz was at odds to what had gone before, yet with hindsight Orb leader Alex Paterson see the album in terms of wiping the slate clean in order to begin again.
1995 saw the release of Orbus Terrarum, an album many Orb officianados see as something of a lost classic. The last album to feature Kris ‘Thrash’ Weston (who would be replaced with Andy Hughes), it still baffled many UK critics who were, at the time, in thrall to the prevailing flavour du jour of Britpop, yet it proved to be the bands biggest success in the U.S. More organic and straight-forward than its predecessor only one single, Oxbox Lakes was lifted from the album.
2 years later in 1996 and the Orb would return with Orbilivion, an album that would see them return to the commercial success they had achieved with their first two albums and spawn what was to be their biggest single to date. Now primarily Paterson & Hughes, the Orb scored their 1st top 5 single with Toxygene the first single to be lifted from the album. Starting life as a rejected remix of the Jean Michel Jarre track Oxygene (turned down as it bore no resemblance to the original) the single reached number 4 in January of 1996. The album saw the band re-capture some critical ground as reviews celebrated the long-player as something of a ‘return to form’.
Despite the various corporate reshuffles at the Orb’s label, Cydonia, the final album for Island, finally emerged in 2001. Recorded in 1999, the album played to the Orb’s strengths. Moments of bass heavy ambience, recalling the heady days of the early 90’s sat alongside ‘pop’ moments such as the first single from the album, Once More. Soon after its release the band parted company with the label, following a final ‘greatest hits’ complilation U.F.Off and a legendary show at the Royal Albert Hall.
THE HISTORY
Essentially the brainchild of Alex Paterson, the Orb sprang forth from the punk rock ethos of ‘anything-goes’. Initially working with Killing Joke’s Youth and KLF-er Jimmy Cauty and inspired by New York mix-tapes from the likes of Shep Pettibone, the Orb’s initial game plan was to operate outside any restrictive notion of genre by utilising anything from dub to punk to abstract electronic bleeps and blips. The mentality, which spawned the Orb, stemmed from having a laugh but being deadly serious about amazing music of whatever strain or period.
With the advent of acid-house in 1988 their ambient workings and DJ sets, which straddled the gaps between the ambience of Eno & White Noise, early house tracks and the wide-screen space of classic dub, saw them much in demand in the capitals nascent club-scene. Providing back-room entertainment at legendary bashes such as Trancentral and Land of Oz the early incarnation of the Orb soon gained a reputation for something different in a world where the 4/4 beat ruled supreme.
It wasn’t long before their formative ideas made it to vinyl and early releases such as A Huge Ever Growing Pulsating Brain That Rules From The Centre Of The Ultraworld and Little Fluffy Clouds became acclaimed as defining a genre that would be loosely referred to as ‘ambient-house’.
Their debut album, The Orb’s Adventures Beyond The Ultraworld, released in 1991 established them as one of the UK’s most innovative and expansive electronic bands; a deeply textured album of other-worldly sounds and subtle beats it was widely hailed as unique and highly original record.
The following year, 1992, saw the release of arguably their ‘piece de la resistance’ U.F.Orb which saw them really capture the spirit of the time: rumbling bass heavy moments in dub, dis-jointed snippets of sound, abstract beats and dialogue segments from long-forgotten counter-culture films. It reached number one upon release, the first album by a British electronic / dance act to do so and went on to become one of the definitive electronic releases of the period.
20-years after acid-house first exploded it’s easy to forget how pioneering artists such as the Orb really were. They took the DIY ethos of punk and fused it with a sense of musical exploration afforded by the explosion of electronic music and created a sound that was unique and something that would spawn a slew of imitators.
Alex would continue to record as the Orb putting out albums that continued to explore beyond the norm and became a much in-demand collaborator / remixer working with the likes of Primal Scream who all appreciated the pranksters one-off, devil-may-care musical abilities.
The full tracklisting of the albums are as follows:
Pomme Fritz
Disc 1 (original album)
Pomme Fritz (Meat ‘n’ Veg)
More Gills Less Fish Cakes
We’re Pastie To Be Grill You
Bang ‘Er ‘N’ Chips
Alles Ist Schoen
His Immortal Logness
Disc 2 (Remixes)
Sausage Tats Mit Gravy (Dom Mix no.1)
Star Twister (Pomme Fritz & Apple Sauce Mix)
Potato Fields Of Electric Gliding Blue (Ambient Mix)
Eastern Hot Dogs In Gardens Of Dub (Lx Mix)
Wrapped With Salt & Vinegar (Thomas Fehlmann Mix)
Orbus Terrarum
Disc 1 (original album)
Valley
Plateau
Oxbox Lakes
Montagne D’or (Der Gute Berg)
White River Junction
Occidental
Slug Dub
Disc 2 (Remixes)
Plateau (All Hands On Deck Mix – 2am)
Slug Dub (Dumpy Dub)
Valley (Mix 3 Dubby)
White River Junction (Zoom Vinegar Mix)
Oxbox Lakes (Andy’s Space Mix)
Peace Pudding (Occidental)
Orblivion
Disc 1 (original album)
Delta Mk II
Ubiquity
Asylum
Bedouin
Molten Love
Pi - Part One
S.A.L.T
Toxygene
Log Of Deadwood
Secrets
Passing Of Time
72
Disc 2 (remixes)
Delta Mk II (Love Bites Mix)
Bedouin (The Sheiks Film Mix)
Log Of Deadwood (Implanting Machines Mix)
Secrets (I Love A Woman In Uniform Mix)
Passing Of Time (Ambient Mix)
Molten Love (Orbits Of Venus Mix)
S.A.L.T. (Snow Mix)
Toxygene (Kris Needs Up For A Fortnight Mix)
Asylum (Soul Catcher Mix)
Cydonia
Disc 1 (original album)
Once More
Promis
Ghostdancing
Turn It Down
Egnable
Firestar
A Mile Long Lump Of Lard
Centuries
Plum Island
Hamlet Of Kings
1,1,1
Edm – The Blackhole Mix
Thursday’s Keeper
Terminus
Disc 2 (remixes)
Centuries (Europhen Mix)
Ghostdancing (version)
Hamlet Of Kings (version)
Firestar (Front Bits)
Centuries (Wine, Woman & King Mix)
Once More (Scourge Of The Earth Mix)
Plum Island (Flat Mix)
Promis (Version)
Once More (Bedrock Edit 2)
Turn It Down (Long Version)
Terminus (Andy’s Mix)
For further information contact:
Steve Phillips
Coalition PR 0208 987 0123
Steve@coalitiongroup.co.uk
Poem.
Deep-blue dawn sky breaks five days before Christmas.
Steep, snow-laden Castle-Ramparts.
Variegated Holly bush, and trees, are white-tinted.
Roofs shrouded in white by the winter snow-fall.
River runs dark and fast beneath three bridges.
River-bank, bridge and street-lights beam off the gushing water and glow in spears of warm, orange iridescent light.
Ben Wyvis stands imperious 25 miles north-west
under a blanket of snow and cloud.
Majestic conditions for this latitude, at this time of year.
Anticipation pulsates.
Not just Christmas.
A “White Christmas.”
c/n B3-06-75
Built in 1977 and served with 12 and 208 Squadrons as well as with 237 Operational Conversion Unit (237OCU).
In 1983 she took part in the only deployment of Buccaneers to the Falkland Islands and later that year she was one of six deployed to Cyprus to support ‘Operation Pulsator’, the British peacekeeping efforts in Lebanon. During this operation she was one of the pair which carried out a low-level flight over Beirut to intimidate insurgents.
In 1991 she flew 14 operational missions in the Gulf War, carrying a laser designator pod which at that time could not be carried by Tornado.
Struck off charge in January 1995, she was saved by the Buccaneer Aircrew Association and arrived at Elvington in May 1996. She is preserved in her genuine Gulf War markings.
Yorkshire Air Museum
Elvington, North Yorkshire, UK.
1st September 2020
Boracay is a tropical island surrounded by stunning white sand beaches about an hour's flight from Cebu or Manila just off the larger Philippines island of Panay.
For beach connoisseurs it competes with the best beaches of more popular destinations such as the Caribbean and the South Pacific as well as neighbouring Thailand, Malaysia and Indonesia. For those wanting to just lounge around and top up their tan, beach-front hotels usually have lounge chairs set up just a few steps away from the hotel entrances. The more active will appreciate water sports and activities such as sailing, wind surfing, snorkelling, diving and jet skiing. The fun in Boracay doesn't end when the sun sets. Boracay night-life pulsates with many bars and restaurants serving food, drink and fun until dawn. Source: wikitravel.org/en/Boracay
Chansonette, 1928
Erna Schmidt-Carroll
Weimar Clubs and cabarets - German cities, 1920s
After the collapse of its Empire and the defeat of the First World War, Germany became a democracy, the Weimar republic. In the early 1920s, people yearned for excitement, there was a sense of liberation and the economy started to recover. Night clubs appeared which fused cabaret, literature, art, music, theatre and satire in multi-sensory experiences. American jazz and dance crazes including the foxtrot, tango, one-step and Charleston became popular and exotic dances by Anita Berber, Valeska Gert and famously Josephine Baker were performed.
Fantasy spaces were created such as the dance-casino called Scala where the ceiling was sculpted into jagged structures that hung down like crystalline stalactites. The pulsating energy of such clubs and bars was captured by artists including Otto Dix, Jeanne Mammen and Elfriede Lohse-Wächtler.
[Barbican Centre]
From Into the Night: Cabarets & Clubs in Modern Art
(October 2019 to January 2020)
Spanning the 1880s to the 1960s, Into the Night celebrates the creative spaces where artists congregated to push the boundaries of artistic expression. The exhibition offers insight into the heady atmosphere of Berlin clubs in Weimar Germany; the energy of Harlem’s jazz scene; the vibrant context of the Mbari clubs in 1960s Nigeria; and many more.
Taken in the Barbican
9.4.09
The flight arrived on time; and the twelve hours while on board passed quickly and without incident. To be sure, the quality of the Cathay Pacific service was exemplary once again.
Heathrow reminds me of Newark International. The décor comes straight out of the sterile 80's and is less an eyesore than an insipid background to the rhythm of human activity, such hustle and bustle, at the fore. There certainly are faces from all races present, creating a rich mosaic of humanity which is refreshing if not completely revitalizing after swimming for so long in a sea of Chinese faces in Hong Kong.
Internet access is sealed in England, it seems. Nothing is free; everything is egregiously monetized from the wireless hotspots down to the desktop terminals. I guess Hong Kong has spoiled me with its abundant, free access to the information superhighway.
11.4.09
Despite staying in a room with five other backpackers, I have been sleeping well. The mattress and pillow are firm; my earplugs keep the noise out; and the sleeping quarters are as dark as a cave when the lights are out, and only as bright as, perhaps, a dreary rainy day when on. All in all, St. Paul's is a excellent place to stay for the gregarious, adventurous, and penurious city explorer - couchsurfing may be a tenable alternative; I'll test for next time.
Yesterday Connie and I gorged ourselves at the borough market where there were all sorts of delectable, savory victuals. There was definitely a European flavor to the food fair: simmering sausages were to be found everywhere; and much as the meat was plentiful, and genuine, so were the dairy delicacies, in the form of myriad rounds of cheese, stacked high behind checkered tabletops. Of course, we washed these tasty morsels down with copious amounts of alcohol that flowed from cups as though amber waterfalls. For the first time I tried mulled wine, which tasted like warm, rancid fruit punch - the ideal tonic for a drizzling London day, I suppose. We later killed the afternoon at the pub, shooting the breeze while imbibing several diminutive half-pints in the process. Getting smashed at four in the afternoon doesn't seem like such a bad thing anymore, especially when you are having fun in the company of friends; I can more appreciate why the English do it so much!
Earlier in the day, we visited the Tate Modern. Its turbine room lived up to its prominent billing what with a giant spider, complete with bulbous egg sac, anchoring the retrospective exhibit. The permanent galleries, too, were a delight upon which to feast one's eyes. Picasso, Warhol and Pollock ruled the chambers of the upper floors with the products of their lithe wrists; and I ended up becoming a huge fan of cubism, while developing a disdain for abstract art and its vacuous images, which, I feel, are devoid of both motivation and emotion.
My first trip yesterday morning was to Emirates Stadium, home of the Arsenal Gunners. It towers imperiously over the surrounding neighborhood; yet for all its majesty, the place sure was quiet! Business did pick up later, however, once the armory shop opened, and dozens of fans descended on it like bees to a hive. I, too, swooped in on a gift-buying mission, and wound up purchasing a book for Godfrey, a scarf for a student, and a jersey - on sale, of course - for good measure.
I'm sitting in the Westminster Abbey Museum now, resting my weary legs and burdened back. So far, I've been verily impressed with what I've seen, such a confluence of splendor and history before me that it would require days to absorb it all, when regretfully I can spare only a few hours. My favorite part of the abbey is the poets corner where no less a literary luminary than Samuel Johnson rests in peace - his bust confirms his homely presence, which was so vividly captured in his biography.
For lunch I had a steak and ale pie, served with mash, taken alongside a Guinness, extra cold - 2 degrees centigrade colder, the bartender explained. It went down well, like all the other delicious meals I've had in England; and no doubt by now I have grown accustomed to inebriation at half past two. Besides, Liverpool were playing inspired football against Blackburn; and my lunch was complete.
Having had my fill of football, I decided to skip my ticket scalping endeavor at Stamford Bridge and instead wandered over to the British Museum to inspect their extensive collections. Along the way, my eye caught a theater, its doors wide open and admitting customers. With much rapidity, I subsequently checked the show times, saw that a performance was set to begin, and at last rushed to the box office to purchase a discounted ticket - if you call a 40 pound ticket a deal, that is. That's how I grabbed a seat to watch Hairspray in the West End.
The show was worth forty pounds. The music was addictive; and the stage design and effects were not so much kitschy as delightfully stimulating - the pulsating background lights were at once scintillating and penetrating. The actors as well were vivacious, oozing charisma while they danced and delivered lines dripping in humor. Hairspray is a quality production and most definitely recommended.
12.4.09
At breakfast I sat across from a man who asked me to which country Hong Kong had been returned - China or Japan. That was pretty funny. Then he started spitting on my food as he spoke, completely oblivious to my breakfast becoming the receptacle in which the fruit of his inner churl was being placed. I guess I understand the convention nowadays of covering one's mouth whilst speaking and masticating at the same time!
We actually conversed on London life in general, and I praised London for its racial integration, the act of which is a prodigious leap of faith for any society, trying to be inclusive, accepting all sorts of people. It wasn't as though the Brits were trying in vain to be all things to all men, using Spanish with the visitors from Spain, German with the Germans and, even, Hindi with the Indians, regardless of whether or not Hindi was their native language; not even considering the absurd idea of encouraging the international adoption of their language; thereby completely keeping English in English hands and allowing its proud polyglots to "practice" their languages. Indeed, the attempt of the Londoners to avail themselves of the rich mosaic of ethnic knowledge, and to seek a common understanding with a ubiquitous English accent is an exemplar, and the bedrock for any world city.
I celebrated Jesus' resurrection at the St. Andrew's Street Church in Cambridge. The parishioners of this Baptist church were warm and affable, and I met several of them, including one visiting (Halliday) linguistics scholar from Zhongshan university in Guangzhou, who in fact had visited my tiny City University of Hong Kong in 2003. The service itself was more traditional and the believers fewer in number than the "progressive" services at any of the charismatic, evangelical churches in HK; yet that's what makes this part of the body of Christ unique; besides, the message was as brief as a powerpoint slide, and informative no less; the power word which spoke into my life being a question from John 21:22 - what is that to you?
Big trees; exquisite lawns; and old, pointy colleges; that's Cambridge in a nutshell. Sitting here, sipping on a half-pint of Woodforde's Wherry, I've had a leisurely, if not languorous, day so far; my sole duty consisting of walking around while absorbing the verdant environment as though a sponge, camera in tow.
I am back at the sublime beer, savoring a pint of Sharp's DoomBar before my fish and chips arrive; the drinking age is 18, but anyone whose visage even hints of youthful brilliance is likely to get carded these days, the bartender told me. The youth drinking culture here is almost as twisted as the university drinking culture in America.
My stay in Cambridge, relaxing and desultory as it may be, is about to end after this late lunch. I an not sure if there is anything left to see, save for the American graveyard which rests an impossible two miles away. I have had a wonderful time in this town; and am thankful for the access into its living history - the residents here must demonstrate remarkable patience and tolerance what with so many tourists ambling on the streets, peering - and photographing - into every nook and cranny.
13.4.09
There are no rubbish bins, yet I've seen on the streets many mixed race couples in which the men tend to be white - the women also belonging to a light colored ethnicity, usually some sort of Asian; as well saw some black dudes and Indian dudes with white chicks.
People here hold doors, even at the entrance to the toilet. Sometimes it appears as though they are going out on a limb, just waiting for the one who will take the responsibility for the door from them, at which point I rush out to relieve them of such a fortuitous burden.
I visited the British Museum this morning. The two hours I spent there did neither myself nor the exhibits any justice because there really is too much to survey, enough captivating stuff to last an entire day, I think. The bottomless well of artifacts from antiquity, drawing from sources as diverse as Korea, and Mesopotamia, is a credit to the British empire, without whose looting most of this amazing booty would be unavailable for our purview; better, I think, for these priceless treasures to be open to all in the grandest supermarket of history than away from human eyes, and worst yet, in the hands of unscrupulous collectors or in the rubbish bin, possibly.
Irene and I took in the ballet Giselle at The Royal Opera House in the afternoon. The building is a plush marvel, and a testament to this city's love for the arts. The ballet itself was satisfying, the first half being superior to the second, in which the nimble dancers demonstrated their phenomenal dexterity in, of all places, a graveyard covered in a cloak of smoke and darkness. I admit, their dance of the dead, in such a gloomy necropolis, did strike me as, strange.
Two amicable ladies from Kent convinced me to visit their hometown tomorrow, where, they told me, the authentic, "working" Leeds Castle and the mighty interesting home of Charles Darwin await.
I'm nursing a pint of Green King Ruddles and wondering about the profusion of British ales and lagers; the British have done a great deed for the world by creating an interminable line of low-alcohol session beers that can be enjoyed at breakfast, lunch, tea and dinner; and their disservice is this: besides this inexhaustible supply of cheap beer ensnaring my inner alcoholic, I feel myself putting on my freshman fifteen, almost ten years after the fact; I am going to have to run a bit harder back in Hong Kong if I want to burn all this malty fuel off.
Irene suggested I stop by the National Art Gallery since we were in the area; and it was an hour well spent. The gallery currently presents a special exhibit on Picasso, the non-ticketed section of which features several seductive renderings, including David spying on Bathsheba - repeated in clever variants - and parodies of other masters' works. Furthermore, the main gallery houses two fabulous portraits by Joshua Reynolds, who happens to be favorite of mine, he in life being a close friend of Samuel Johnson - I passed by Boswells, where its namesake first met Johnson, on my way to the opera house.
14.4.09
I prayed last night, and went through my list, lifting everyone on it up to the Lord. That felt good; that God is alive now, and ever present in my life and in the lives of my brothers and sisters.
Doubtless, then, I have felt quite wistful, as though a specter in the land of the living, being in a place where religious fervor, it seems, is a thing of the past, a trifling for many, to be hidden away in the opaque corners of centuries-old cathedrals that are more expensive tourist destinations than liberating homes of worship these days. Indeed, I have yet to see anyone pray, outside of the Easter service which I attended in Cambridge - for such an ecstatic moment in verily a grand church, would you believe that it was only attended by at most three dozen spirited ones. The people of England, and Europe in general, have, it is my hope, only locked away the Word, relegating it to the quiet vault of their hearts. May it be taken out in the sudden pause before mealtimes and in the still crisp mornings and cool, silent nights. There is still hope for a revival in this place, for faith to rise like that splendid sun every morning. God would love to rescue them, to deliver them in this day, it is certain.
I wonder what Londoners think, if anything at all, about their police state which, like a vine in the shadows, has taken root in all corners of daily life, from the terrorist notifications in the underground, which implore Londoners to report all things suspicious, to the pair of dogs which eagerly stroll through Euston. What makes this all the more incredible is the fact that even the United States, the indomitable nemesis of the fledgling, rebel order, doesn't dare bombard its citizens with such fear mongering these days, especially with Obama in office; maybe we've grown wise in these past few years to the dubious returns of surrendering civil liberties to the state, of having our bags checked everywhere - London Eye; Hairspray; and The Royal Opera House check bags in London while the museums do not; somehow, that doesn't add up for me.
I'm in a majestic bookshop on New Street in Birmingham, and certainly to confirm my suspicions, there are just as many books on the death of Christianity in Britain as there are books which attempt to murder Christianity everywhere. I did find, however, a nice biography on John Wesley by Roy Hattersley and The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis. I may pick up the former.
Lunch with Sally was pleasant and mirthful. We dined at a French restaurant nearby New Street - yes, Birmingham is a cultural capitol! Sally and I both tried their omelette, while her boyfriend had the fish, without chips. Conversation was light, the levity was there and so was our reminiscing about those fleeting moments during our first year in Hong Kong; it is amazing how friendships can resume so suddenly with a smile. On their recommendation, I am on my way to Warwick Castle - they also suggested that I visit Cadbury World, but they cannot take on additional visitors at the moment, the tourist office staff informed me, much to my disappointment!
Visiting Warwick Castle really made for a great day out. The castle, parts of which were established by William the Conquerer in 1068, is as much a kitschy tourist trap as a meticulous preservation of history, at times a sillier version of Ocean Park while at others a dignified dedication to a most glorious, inexorably English past. The castle caters to all visitors; and not surprisingly, that which delighted all audiences was a giant trebuchet siege engine, which for the five p.m. performance hurled a fireball high and far into the air - fantastic! Taliban beware!
15.4.09
I'm leaving on a jet plane this evening; don't know when I'll be back in England again. I'll miss this quirky, yet endearing place; and that I shall miss Irene and Tom who so generously welcomed me into their home, fed me, and suffered my use of their toilet and shower goes without saying. I'm grateful for God's many blessings on this trip.
On the itinerary today is a trip to John Wesley's home, followed by a visit to the Imperial War Museum. Already this morning I picked up a tube of Oilatum, a week late perhaps, which Teri recommended I use to treat this obstinate, dermal weakness of mine - I'm happy to report that my skin has stopped crying.
John Wesley's home is alive and well. Services are still held in the chapel everyday; and its crypt, so far from being a cellar for the dead, is a bright, spacious museum in which all things Wesley are on display - I never realized how much of an iconic figure he became in England; at the height of this idol frenzy, ironic in itself, he must have been as popular as the Beatles were at their apex. The house itself is a multi-story edifice with narrow, precipitous staircases and spacious rooms decorated in an 18th century fashion.
I found Samuel Johnson's house within a maze of red brick hidden alongside Fleet Street. To be in the home of the man who wrote the English dictionary, and whose indefatigable love for obscure words became the inspiration for my own lexical obsession, this, by far, is the climax of my visit to England! The best certainly has been saved for last.
There are a multitude of portraits hanging around the house like ornaments on a tree. Every likeness has its own story, meticulously retold on the crib sheets in each room. Celebrities abound, including David Garrick and Sir Joshua Reynolds, who painted several of the finer images in the house. I have developed a particular affinity for Oliver Goldsmith, of whom Boswell writes, "His person was short, his countenance coarse and vulgar, his deportment that of a scholar awkwardly affecting the easy gentleman. It appears as though I, too, could use a more flattering description of myself!
I regretfully couldn't stop to try the curry in England; I guess the CityU canteen's take on the dish will have to do. I did, however, have the opportune task of flirting with the cute Cathay Pacific counter staff who checked me in. She was gorgeous in red, light powder on her cheeks, with real diamond earrings, she said; and her small, delicate face, commanded by a posh British accent rendered her positively irresistible, electrifying. Not only did she grant me an aisle seat but she had the gumption to return my fawning with zest; she must be a pro at this by now.
I saw her again as she was pulling double-duty, collecting tickets prior to boarding. She remembered my quest for curry; and in the fog of infatuation, where nary a man has been made, I fumbled my words like the sloppy kid who has had too much punch. I am just an amateur, alas, an "Oliver Goldsmith" with the ladies - I got no game - booyah!
Some final, consequential bits: because of the chavs, Burberry no longer sells those fashionable baseball caps; because of the IRA, rubbish bins are no longer a commodity on the streets of London, and as a result, the streets and the Underground of the city are a soiled mess; and because of other terrorists from distant, more arid lands, going through a Western airport has taken on the tedium of perfunctory procedure that doesn't make me feel any safer from my invisible enemies.
At last, I saw so many Indians working at Heathrow that I could have easily mistaken the place for Mumbai. Their presence surprised me because their portion of the general population surely must be less than their portion of Heathrow staff, indicating some mysterious hiring bias. Regardless, they do a superb job with cursory airport checks, and in general are absurdly funny and witty when not tactless.
That's all for England!
9.4.09
The flight arrived on time; and the twelve hours while on board passed quickly and without incident. To be sure, the quality of the Cathay Pacific service was exemplary once again.
Heathrow reminds me of Newark International. The décor comes straight out of the sterile 80's and is less an eyesore than an insipid background to the rhythm of human activity, such hustle and bustle, at the fore. There certainly are faces from all races present, creating a rich mosaic of humanity which is refreshing if not completely revitalizing after swimming for so long in a sea of Chinese faces in Hong Kong.
Internet access is sealed in England, it seems. Nothing is free; everything is egregiously monetized from the wireless hotspots down to the desktop terminals. I guess Hong Kong has spoiled me with its abundant, free access to the information superhighway.
11.4.09
Despite staying in a room with five other backpackers, I have been sleeping well. The mattress and pillow are firm; my earplugs keep the noise out; and the sleeping quarters are as dark as a cave when the lights are out, and only as bright as, perhaps, a dreary rainy day when on. All in all, St. Paul's is a excellent place to stay for the gregarious, adventurous, and penurious city explorer - couchsurfing may be a tenable alternative; I'll test for next time.
Yesterday Connie and I gorged ourselves at the borough market where there were all sorts of delectable, savory victuals. There was definitely a European flavor to the food fair: simmering sausages were to be found everywhere; and much as the meat was plentiful, and genuine, so were the dairy delicacies, in the form of myriad rounds of cheese, stacked high behind checkered tabletops. Of course, we washed these tasty morsels down with copious amounts of alcohol that flowed from cups as though amber waterfalls. For the first time I tried mulled wine, which tasted like warm, rancid fruit punch - the ideal tonic for a drizzling London day, I suppose. We later killed the afternoon at the pub, shooting the breeze while imbibing several diminutive half-pints in the process. Getting smashed at four in the afternoon doesn't seem like such a bad thing anymore, especially when you are having fun in the company of friends; I can more appreciate why the English do it so much!
Earlier in the day, we visited the Tate Modern. Its turbine room lived up to its prominent billing what with a giant spider, complete with bulbous egg sac, anchoring the retrospective exhibit. The permanent galleries, too, were a delight upon which to feast one's eyes. Picasso, Warhol and Pollock ruled the chambers of the upper floors with the products of their lithe wrists; and I ended up becoming a huge fan of cubism, while developing a disdain for abstract art and its vacuous images, which, I feel, are devoid of both motivation and emotion.
My first trip yesterday morning was to Emirates Stadium, home of the Arsenal Gunners. It towers imperiously over the surrounding neighborhood; yet for all its majesty, the place sure was quiet! Business did pick up later, however, once the armory shop opened, and dozens of fans descended on it like bees to a hive. I, too, swooped in on a gift-buying mission, and wound up purchasing a book for Godfrey, a scarf for a student, and a jersey - on sale, of course - for good measure.
I'm sitting in the Westminster Abbey Museum now, resting my weary legs and burdened back. So far, I've been verily impressed with what I've seen, such a confluence of splendor and history before me that it would require days to absorb it all, when regretfully I can spare only a few hours. My favorite part of the abbey is the poets corner where no less a literary luminary than Samuel Johnson rests in peace - his bust confirms his homely presence, which was so vividly captured in his biography.
For lunch I had a steak and ale pie, served with mash, taken alongside a Guinness, extra cold - 2 degrees centigrade colder, the bartender explained. It went down well, like all the other delicious meals I've had in England; and no doubt by now I have grown accustomed to inebriation at half past two. Besides, Liverpool were playing inspired football against Blackburn; and my lunch was complete.
Having had my fill of football, I decided to skip my ticket scalping endeavor at Stamford Bridge and instead wandered over to the British Museum to inspect their extensive collections. Along the way, my eye caught a theater, its doors wide open and admitting customers. With much rapidity, I subsequently checked the show times, saw that a performance was set to begin, and at last rushed to the box office to purchase a discounted ticket - if you call a 40 pound ticket a deal, that is. That's how I grabbed a seat to watch Hairspray in the West End.
The show was worth forty pounds. The music was addictive; and the stage design and effects were not so much kitschy as delightfully stimulating - the pulsating background lights were at once scintillating and penetrating. The actors as well were vivacious, oozing charisma while they danced and delivered lines dripping in humor. Hairspray is a quality production and most definitely recommended.
12.4.09
At breakfast I sat across from a man who asked me to which country Hong Kong had been returned - China or Japan. That was pretty funny. Then he started spitting on my food as he spoke, completely oblivious to my breakfast becoming the receptacle in which the fruit of his inner churl was being placed. I guess I understand the convention nowadays of covering one's mouth whilst speaking and masticating at the same time!
We actually conversed on London life in general, and I praised London for its racial integration, the act of which is a prodigious leap of faith for any society, trying to be inclusive, accepting all sorts of people. It wasn't as though the Brits were trying in vain to be all things to all men, using Spanish with the visitors from Spain, German with the Germans and, even, Hindi with the Indians, regardless of whether or not Hindi was their native language; not even considering the absurd idea of encouraging the international adoption of their language; thereby completely keeping English in English hands and allowing its proud polyglots to "practice" their languages. Indeed, the attempt of the Londoners to avail themselves of the rich mosaic of ethnic knowledge, and to seek a common understanding with a ubiquitous English accent is an exemplar, and the bedrock for any world city.
I celebrated Jesus' resurrection at the St. Andrew's Street Church in Cambridge. The parishioners of this Baptist church were warm and affable, and I met several of them, including one visiting (Halliday) linguistics scholar from Zhongshan university in Guangzhou, who in fact had visited my tiny City University of Hong Kong in 2003. The service itself was more traditional and the believers fewer in number than the "progressive" services at any of the charismatic, evangelical churches in HK; yet that's what makes this part of the body of Christ unique; besides, the message was as brief as a powerpoint slide, and informative no less; the power word which spoke into my life being a question from John 21:22 - what is that to you?
Big trees; exquisite lawns; and old, pointy colleges; that's Cambridge in a nutshell. Sitting here, sipping on a half-pint of Woodforde's Wherry, I've had a leisurely, if not languorous, day so far; my sole duty consisting of walking around while absorbing the verdant environment as though a sponge, camera in tow.
I am back at the sublime beer, savoring a pint of Sharp's DoomBar before my fish and chips arrive; the drinking age is 18, but anyone whose visage even hints of youthful brilliance is likely to get carded these days, the bartender told me. The youth drinking culture here is almost as twisted as the university drinking culture in America.
My stay in Cambridge, relaxing and desultory as it may be, is about to end after this late lunch. I an not sure if there is anything left to see, save for the American graveyard which rests an impossible two miles away. I have had a wonderful time in this town; and am thankful for the access into its living history - the residents here must demonstrate remarkable patience and tolerance what with so many tourists ambling on the streets, peering - and photographing - into every nook and cranny.
13.4.09
There are no rubbish bins, yet I've seen on the streets many mixed race couples in which the men tend to be white - the women also belonging to a light colored ethnicity, usually some sort of Asian; as well saw some black dudes and Indian dudes with white chicks.
People here hold doors, even at the entrance to the toilet. Sometimes it appears as though they are going out on a limb, just waiting for the one who will take the responsibility for the door from them, at which point I rush out to relieve them of such a fortuitous burden.
I visited the British Museum this morning. The two hours I spent there did neither myself nor the exhibits any justice because there really is too much to survey, enough captivating stuff to last an entire day, I think. The bottomless well of artifacts from antiquity, drawing from sources as diverse as Korea, and Mesopotamia, is a credit to the British empire, without whose looting most of this amazing booty would be unavailable for our purview; better, I think, for these priceless treasures to be open to all in the grandest supermarket of history than away from human eyes, and worst yet, in the hands of unscrupulous collectors or in the rubbish bin, possibly.
Irene and I took in the ballet Giselle at The Royal Opera House in the afternoon. The building is a plush marvel, and a testament to this city's love for the arts. The ballet itself was satisfying, the first half being superior to the second, in which the nimble dancers demonstrated their phenomenal dexterity in, of all places, a graveyard covered in a cloak of smoke and darkness. I admit, their dance of the dead, in such a gloomy necropolis, did strike me as, strange.
Two amicable ladies from Kent convinced me to visit their hometown tomorrow, where, they told me, the authentic, "working" Leeds Castle and the mighty interesting home of Charles Darwin await.
I'm nursing a pint of Green King Ruddles and wondering about the profusion of British ales and lagers; the British have done a great deed for the world by creating an interminable line of low-alcohol session beers that can be enjoyed at breakfast, lunch, tea and dinner; and their disservice is this: besides this inexhaustible supply of cheap beer ensnaring my inner alcoholic, I feel myself putting on my freshman fifteen, almost ten years after the fact; I am going to have to run a bit harder back in Hong Kong if I want to burn all this malty fuel off.
Irene suggested I stop by the National Art Gallery since we were in the area; and it was an hour well spent. The gallery currently presents a special exhibit on Picasso, the non-ticketed section of which features several seductive renderings, including David spying on Bathsheba - repeated in clever variants - and parodies of other masters' works. Furthermore, the main gallery houses two fabulous portraits by Joshua Reynolds, who happens to be favorite of mine, he in life being a close friend of Samuel Johnson - I passed by Boswells, where its namesake first met Johnson, on my way to the opera house.
14.4.09
I prayed last night, and went through my list, lifting everyone on it up to the Lord. That felt good; that God is alive now, and ever present in my life and in the lives of my brothers and sisters.
Doubtless, then, I have felt quite wistful, as though a specter in the land of the living, being in a place where religious fervor, it seems, is a thing of the past, a trifling for many, to be hidden away in the opaque corners of centuries-old cathedrals that are more expensive tourist destinations than liberating homes of worship these days. Indeed, I have yet to see anyone pray, outside of the Easter service which I attended in Cambridge - for such an ecstatic moment in verily a grand church, would you believe that it was only attended by at most three dozen spirited ones. The people of England, and Europe in general, have, it is my hope, only locked away the Word, relegating it to the quiet vault of their hearts. May it be taken out in the sudden pause before mealtimes and in the still crisp mornings and cool, silent nights. There is still hope for a revival in this place, for faith to rise like that splendid sun every morning. God would love to rescue them, to deliver them in this day, it is certain.
I wonder what Londoners think, if anything at all, about their police state which, like a vine in the shadows, has taken root in all corners of daily life, from the terrorist notifications in the underground, which implore Londoners to report all things suspicious, to the pair of dogs which eagerly stroll through Euston. What makes this all the more incredible is the fact that even the United States, the indomitable nemesis of the fledgling, rebel order, doesn't dare bombard its citizens with such fear mongering these days, especially with Obama in office; maybe we've grown wise in these past few years to the dubious returns of surrendering civil liberties to the state, of having our bags checked everywhere - London Eye; Hairspray; and The Royal Opera House check bags in London while the museums do not; somehow, that doesn't add up for me.
I'm in a majestic bookshop on New Street in Birmingham, and certainly to confirm my suspicions, there are just as many books on the death of Christianity in Britain as there are books which attempt to murder Christianity everywhere. I did find, however, a nice biography on John Wesley by Roy Hattersley and The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis. I may pick up the former.
Lunch with Sally was pleasant and mirthful. We dined at a French restaurant nearby New Street - yes, Birmingham is a cultural capitol! Sally and I both tried their omelette, while her boyfriend had the fish, without chips. Conversation was light, the levity was there and so was our reminiscing about those fleeting moments during our first year in Hong Kong; it is amazing how friendships can resume so suddenly with a smile. On their recommendation, I am on my way to Warwick Castle - they also suggested that I visit Cadbury World, but they cannot take on additional visitors at the moment, the tourist office staff informed me, much to my disappointment!
Visiting Warwick Castle really made for a great day out. The castle, parts of which were established by William the Conquerer in 1068, is as much a kitschy tourist trap as a meticulous preservation of history, at times a sillier version of Ocean Park while at others a dignified dedication to a most glorious, inexorably English past. The castle caters to all visitors; and not surprisingly, that which delighted all audiences was a giant trebuchet siege engine, which for the five p.m. performance hurled a fireball high and far into the air - fantastic! Taliban beware!
15.4.09
I'm leaving on a jet plane this evening; don't know when I'll be back in England again. I'll miss this quirky, yet endearing place; and that I shall miss Irene and Tom who so generously welcomed me into their home, fed me, and suffered my use of their toilet and shower goes without saying. I'm grateful for God's many blessings on this trip.
On the itinerary today is a trip to John Wesley's home, followed by a visit to the Imperial War Museum. Already this morning I picked up a tube of Oilatum, a week late perhaps, which Teri recommended I use to treat this obstinate, dermal weakness of mine - I'm happy to report that my skin has stopped crying.
John Wesley's home is alive and well. Services are still held in the chapel everyday; and its crypt, so far from being a cellar for the dead, is a bright, spacious museum in which all things Wesley are on display - I never realized how much of an iconic figure he became in England; at the height of this idol frenzy, ironic in itself, he must have been as popular as the Beatles were at their apex. The house itself is a multi-story edifice with narrow, precipitous staircases and spacious rooms decorated in an 18th century fashion.
I found Samuel Johnson's house within a maze of red brick hidden alongside Fleet Street. To be in the home of the man who wrote the English dictionary, and whose indefatigable love for obscure words became the inspiration for my own lexical obsession, this, by far, is the climax of my visit to England! The best certainly has been saved for last.
There are a multitude of portraits hanging around the house like ornaments on a tree. Every likeness has its own story, meticulously retold on the crib sheets in each room. Celebrities abound, including David Garrick and Sir Joshua Reynolds, who painted several of the finer images in the house. I have developed a particular affinity for Oliver Goldsmith, of whom Boswell writes, "His person was short, his countenance coarse and vulgar, his deportment that of a scholar awkwardly affecting the easy gentleman. It appears as though I, too, could use a more flattering description of myself!
I regretfully couldn't stop to try the curry in England; I guess the CityU canteen's take on the dish will have to do. I did, however, have the opportune task of flirting with the cute Cathay Pacific counter staff who checked me in. She was gorgeous in red, light powder on her cheeks, with real diamond earrings, she said; and her small, delicate face, commanded by a posh British accent rendered her positively irresistible, electrifying. Not only did she grant me an aisle seat but she had the gumption to return my fawning with zest; she must be a pro at this by now.
I saw her again as she was pulling double-duty, collecting tickets prior to boarding. She remembered my quest for curry; and in the fog of infatuation, where nary a man has been made, I fumbled my words like the sloppy kid who has had too much punch. I am just an amateur, alas, an "Oliver Goldsmith" with the ladies - I got no game - booyah!
Some final, consequential bits: because of the chavs, Burberry no longer sells those fashionable baseball caps; because of the IRA, rubbish bins are no longer a commodity on the streets of London, and as a result, the streets and the Underground of the city are a soiled mess; and because of other terrorists from distant, more arid lands, going through a Western airport has taken on the tedium of perfunctory procedure that doesn't make me feel any safer from my invisible enemies.
At last, I saw so many Indians working at Heathrow that I could have easily mistaken the place for Mumbai. Their presence surprised me because their portion of the general population surely must be less than their portion of Heathrow staff, indicating some mysterious hiring bias. Regardless, they do a superb job with cursory airport checks, and in general are absurdly funny and witty when not tactless.
That's all for England!
An incredibly friendly hospitable club and a pulsating match made for a highly enjoyable day despite the cold.
Poem.
Beautiful Affric.
As if the Caledonian Forest breathes out, the mist slowly rises like a spirit rising to the ethereal heavens.
Just visible, the River Affric surges down the valley, two hundred feet below, just east of Dog Falls.
Life here is so abundant, from Golden Eagle to Wood Ants,
from Red Deer Stag to Pine-Marten.
In the dawn, a slow pulse of life gathers pace.
Life begins to pulsate, quietly but tangibly.
The carpet of life is mesmerising.
Stately, dignified Scots Pine sweep up and down these slopes for over thirty miles.
Early golden gorse contrasts with still burnished bracken.
“Lambs-tail” catkins quivering in the slightest breeze confirm that spring has arrived.
Delicate silver-birch branches hang, bare of leaves, but laden with tiny buds.
The sun is rising fast and soon the mist will burn away.
The promise of a glorious new day creates a quiet excitement and anticipation.
This place is very special.
It has a spirit that absorbs my own and softly whispers its reassuring but unassuming reality.
It beckons the senses to see, hear and feel its stupendous splendour, again and again!
Here are my photos from our evening meal at the Goat, Copenhagen. I chose Roast beef with brown sauce, potatoes, seasonal vegetables, served with cranberries and horseradish, which was nice, although there was a strange taste with some mouthfuls. I worked out it was the grated cheese they had sprinkled over it! Tim and JJ had fish and chips.
The pulsating heartbeat of Vesterbro, The Goat attracts locals and visitors alike with our enticing mix of great food, great drinks and welcoming servers. Whether you decide to enjoy our cozy indoors or soak up the atmosphere at Vesterbro Torv with our extensive outdoor seating, we’ve got you covered at The GOAT Bar and Cafe. (From the Goat's website)
Abraham "Bram" Stoker (8 November 1847 – 20 April 1912) was an Irish author, best known today for his 1897 Gothic novel, Dracula. During his lifetime, he was better known as the personal assistant of actor Henry Irving and business manager of the Lyceum Theatre in London, which Irving owned.
Arise! Awake! A mist descends upon the city streets. Sounds pulsate beneath our feet. The sky shudders as Macnas spirits are unleashed by Twilight.
Come out and celebrate with Danu, Goddess of the Divine and Dark: brutal and beautiful, warrior and mother, hallowed and holy, she protects and provokes, takes flight and goes underground.
Mummers and drummers follow and seek. Demons and angels love and loathe, the dead dance and the living transform. Men become gods, fools become Kings, souls are sanctified, reptiles are rarefied and the city streets transform as the journey unfolds.
Bram Stoker Festival are delighted to once again welcome Macnas to Dublin for a city-wide procession to launch the city into Samhain [Halloween].
Silicone vibrating rose anal plugs that pulsate provide additional pleasure, whereas others are smooth or textured. Made with silicone, this is non-porous.
Web:- pinkbeanca.com/
My world is a dot, a cool blue sphere. Flooded with sunlight, it explodes in green, coruscating life, the stuff of my dreams, my passions, my art. My sculpting medium is grass, the living, seething tangle of blades. It pulsates with life and endless possibilities. It represents the resilience, the tenacity of the natural world that does not give up even when assaulted by concrete, steel, and glass. I tame that grassy wilderness through the intelligence of a dot, a globe, an orb. A dot, from a pixel to a celestial sphere, has become for me an image and a symbol, a prism and a lens through which I see the world around me. It shapes my perception, fires my imagination, throws me into a creative whirlwind. Perfect roundness in cool, bristly shades of green, large grassy pearls sprawled on the colours of the earth, living balls floating in the shimmering air. Green on the cool blue globe. Cool dots. ~Ewa Tarsia, artist~
This is part of the art installations for Cool Gardens in Winnipeg.
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Cours Saleya market in Nice is at the heart of the Old Town and it’s always pulsating with life. Striped awnings cover its centre and shelter the products on offer in the daily market. Crowds of locals and tourists come here to do their shopping or sometimes just to look and snap photos of the colourful displays. The scents of fresh produce and flowers seem to put everyone in a good mood and the atmosphere is friendly.*
*https://www.thegoodlifefrance.com/cours-saleya-market-in-nice-france/
Squat, cryptically-plumaged shorebird with a very long bill. Inhabits a wide range of wetland habitats, from damp meadows to saltmarshes. Mostly inconspicuous, feeding in muddy ground by probing with its bill, usually near reeds or other grassy cover. Often not seen until flushed, when it usually rises from fairly close range with a rough rasping call. Breeding birds are more conspicuous, perching on fence posts. In display flight, birds stoop from high overhead and produce a pulsating, bleating sound from air passing through their fanned tail. In Asia, beware of extremely similar Pin-tailed, Swinhoe's, and Latham's Snipes, all of which lack the white trailing edge of Common and have a slower, less erratic flight.