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~~RëaL FrïëndS x FaKë FrïëndS~~
FAKE FRIENDS: Never ask for food
REAL FRIENDS: are the reason you have no food
FAKE FRIENDS: Call your parents Mr/Mrs
REAL FRIENDS: Call your parents DAD/MOM
FAKE FRIENDS: never seen you cry
REAL FRIENDS: cry with you
FAKE FRIENDS: Borrow your stuff for a few days then give it back
REAL FRIENDS: keep your shirt so long they forget its yours
FAKE FRIENDS: know a few things about you
REAL FRIENDS: Could write a book about you with direct quotes from you
FAKE FRIENDS: Will leave you behind if that is what the crowd is doing
REAL FRIENDS: Will kick the whole crowds that left you
FAKE FRIENDS: Would knock on your front door
REAL FRIENDS: Walk right in and say "I'M HOME!"
FAKE FRIENDS: Are for awhile
REAL FRIENDS: Are for liFe
ModeL: Moi
Taken by: Me
Dedicated to My beSt Fwienda Fdaithaa(K)~
A few shots I did for a realtor. One SB700 in smaller living room just behind the door. Windows were left blown out as the view of a snow and slush covered highway was not wanted.
El Palacio Real de Ámsterdam es uno de los cuatro palacios en los Países Bajos, que está a disposición del monarca de los Países Bajos por ley del Parlamento. El palacio con un estilo arquitectónico clasiquista fue construido como salón de la ciudad durante la Edad de Oro neerlandesa en el siglo XVII. El edificio se convirtió en el palacio real del rey Luis Napoleón y más tarde de la Casa Real neerlandesa. Está situado en el lado oeste de la Plaza Dam, en el centro de Ámsterdam, frente al monumento de la guerra y al lado de la Nieuwe Kerk.
Dylan Parry Review: "Quint Baker is like no other artist you have heard. Audio art’s dark fiend meets friendly bright pop. He inhabits a strange world. If you could take a David Lynch movie and condense it into words, liquify it and pour it into your ears, that’s what it would sound like. At first it is unaccessible, but with further listening it reveals itself, not as harsh, critical art snob noise, but fragile, flawed, delicate, sensitive and personal.
There is a recurring theme in many of these songs, a broken mirror, pieces of things, memories, tunes, pictures, a collage of past events. In fact these songs, if that is what you want to define them as, are in fact made up of broken pieces, samples, poetry, memories, tunes, snyths, drum beats, guitar strums. This is perhaps resonates in the collage art of Quint Baker where the commercial and horrific meets beauty in it’s natural form."
"Really Hot Girl" Quint Baker opens with a catchy loop “Something in my mouth, something you wanted to say, given up, given up, you have given up, you gave up?” The song then descends to the bottom floor to the boiler room, where the steam powered machines manufacture and process the notes and neurons of his music. A Japanese assembly plant that uses Just In Time inventory systems to deliver efficient sized parcels of plastic noise in small non-degradable zip lock bags. The rural workers eat blue fin tuna for lunch if they meet production quotas. The lunchroom it is much more relaxed as they drink sake and sing karaoke before the next shift and yell the factory Tri-slogan at each other ....... Transmation ( a form of transformation or mutated change ) Prostitute ( a form of relaxation, a reward for meeting production quotas) Rings of power ( Myth of the Qunag emperor who promised only his most loyal subjects everlasting strength and riches) .....before the floor manager, a dark little man with shrunk shoulders sends them home with their meager rations, a handful of rice and plastic yen. Symbols of wealth, modernity and power, icons of steel and overseas holidays in Florida. What was in his mouth? Well something that people want to say, but they never do, only Quint Baker can/does and tries." .................... "This is so unconventionally stunning and beautiful, Sad.
"The Girl In the Wind" If there was a genre for music called strange/haunted/beautiful then this would be my favourite song of this genre ever!! Strauntful music? Made up of only a fragment of a lyrical line Pick up the pieces , pick up the memory..of the girl, this line contorts and distorts into the sublime of the girl... of the girl.... of the girl..., a strong fragment of a memory where this song reminisces , a regret maybe, an Alice in Wonderland moment as she floats onto a bright green field, a cold grey beach, but he is unsure if this place was real, was he there, it is only a piece, broken, sharp, painful but smooth, clear and beautiful.... this song now haunts me too..."
"Tree Auras" Tree Auras is onboard the SS Baker, the sole submarine in the Royal New Zealand Navy. A trade deal that was made with the Ukrainian Government after the fall of Communism. The NZ ministry of defence made a covert deal with party members for a small four man submersible, 40 tonnes of milk soilds and a phototype design for KZ7. The details of this submarine remain classified, however, a former crew member has leaked sensitive information to local ears. The submarine is on permanent routine patrol beneath the shore of lake Te Anau at a depth of over 1000 meters. It’s wipers, cleaning prehistoric algae from the cockpit window, the only sound within the steel hull. The crew work as part of a joint venture with the department of conservation looking for proof of early viking landings upon long lost glaciers. The crew drink tea, play cards and gossip as they peer out of the port holes through the dim light looking for distinctive hulls. All they ever see are giant petrified kauri forests coated in green luminous decay like staring at a giant coral reef with night vision goggles. I am fast becoming a BIG fan of your music, as you say "Audio art", but blurred into the pop realm. Girl in the wind is still stuck inside me, something about that song. I can find no other way to review your music but with stories as they are one."
"Hand A love song among the moss and lichen of a south island beech forest, hairy hobbits and fairy frost, the delicate balance of nature may have been disturbed. Martin Phillips built himself a hut here, for song writing and time alone. But with the damp and faded light his guitar grew moss and his strings turned into vines and grew into his fingers. Then his fingers grew around his guitar, and his toes became rooted to the ground. Then he began to drink from the ground and his guitar vibrated, his skin turned to bark. As he grew he sung, deep inside his hard wood heart, the rings of time wound round and round and his branches grew, up, until he was tall as all the other trees and he could see all around the forest. He hated it there, the sun too bright, obvious, dry and unyielding. So he withered, down, descending and rotting, until he was earth. There he relished the warm decay, soft, moist and caring. There he waited and slept listening to the rain and the birds. When the time came he grew, fingers first, then hands, arms, elbows, shoulders, head, torso, waist, thighs, legs and feet. He walked out of the forest, guitar on his shoulder with a song to sing. "
"Crying for your Younger Days An airport, where all flights are delayed, the gates are empty, announcements are made of apologies and further delays. Shrivelled grey people wait holding their hand luggage, sleeping or slouched on seats like refugees. The only place open is a bar which is full. As people wait a man sings into a broken mirror songs about someone he new, a girl, a love, he loved her. Nobody listens, or cares......”Crying for your young days,.......Living the memory of you....” Over and over and over and over. Awaiting passengers have no idea of how long they have been waiting here, most have forgotten there own names, or what flight they are catching, but they all listen to the annoucements and gather round the gates like ghosts. It is always night and new passengers arrive at the airport out of grimy taxis, always alone and always lost. They check in, and wait, try to remember, drink coffee. Eventually they walk in to the bar where the man sings in to broken mirror” Crying for your young days,.......Living the memory of you....” By then they have forgotten, but the man with the mirror knows them and he smiles, he knows who they are."
"Blossom Tree Talk back dance radio where ranters and ravers stay up all night long. “The wee hours on 1255 fm", run by hedgehogs who dine on pot noodles, instant coffee and snails. “ The topic tonight is electro mechanics.” “ Our lines are open” A local hedgehog spins and scratches records as callers voice their opinion and hate. The host spits and preaches with his foul snail breath. Some listeners dance, others just listen and nod their heads sometimes to the music, sometimes to the words. It is Ad free, on 1255 fm"
"Touch play on the tape recorder" It is Top of the Pops in 1984 and on stage is Quint Baker, pop revisionist/anarchist, playing inside a giant magnetic reel. He has stars in his eyes. Quint Baker 2010 still thinks it is 1984. He relives his glory days in South Island Pokie bars on Tuesday nights. He signs autographs to disillusioned youth and alcoholics, professing his abstract thoughts and feelings on art and music, but they just smirk and he kind of knows this. But he gets on stage anyway, dressed in a white boiler suit with only a disco light left over from the Saturday Night Fever theme night last Thursday. He plays earnestly with his keyboard, playing stunning layers of sound and he jerks his body to his words “ Touch play on the tape recorder, I found it for you....” his eyes closed as Tammy and Shona up from Invercargill get up and dance, their rum and coke RTDs spilling onto the beer soaked carpet. Sadly beautiful and melancholic this song brings a tear to the eye of one patron as it reminds him of a girl he knew, once. "
"Egg Spring", Egg Spring is set in the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea(DPRK). Deep under the Amnok river, running along the Demilitarised Zone, lies the Propaganda and Agitation Department’s New Development Bunker(NDB), a personal pet project of Kim Jong-il. Under pressure from new Security Council resolutions prohibiting further nuclear testing, Kim Jong il has instead redirected his top scientific staff into developing new nano technology. These tiny robots, each a perfect miniature version of himself are his new arsonal against the West. Each wind up soldier is capable of entering a human being through the skin. Once inside he quickly travels to the brain and proceeds to cut neural links and build new ones, slowly changing the host’s thought patterns and personality. It is rumoured, through unofficial intelligence reports, that millions of these “Nano weapons” have already been released. Infected hosts are not easily indentifiable, although again unofficially, a source within the National Clandestine Service, formerly the Directorate of Operations, which performs clandestine intelligence collection and covert action, has claimed the hosts can be indentified only through behavioural analysis. Typical symptoms include political apathy, non selective preferences or opinions towards literature, art or music, impulses and interest in new economic theory and wide eyes while watching television. What is unknown is what will happen once these “hosts” are activated."
Real American Wrestling - CATCHcafe 12 - Mike D vecchio Vs The gigolo
Mike D vecchio Def. (Pin) The gigolo
( CATCHcafe 12, warriors of the world )
I bet this place has seen some things in its past! Looks somewhat haunted to me I imagine in smells of moth balls as you walk through the door and has a black cat sitting on the stair case.
¿Cómo re-andar lo desandado?
¿Cómo levantar una mirada vencida?
¿Cómo buscar la esperanza entre la niebla?
¿Cómo volver a nacer, después de haber nacido?
¿Cómo revivir lo no vivido...................?
Shot the Real Surreal opening on 01-24-14 for MMOCA. Just went with my 35 and 85 primes on two D5000 bodies. When I wanted wider I stitched.
Nikon D5000
Lens: AF-S DX Nikkor 35mm f/1.8
Post Processing done in Lightroom 5/Photoshop CC
© 2014 Robert Stebler
"Como todos los buitres, el real es un animal carroñero. Este pájaro, de gran tamaño, planea en el cielo reservando energía mientras busca cuerpos de animales muertos en las selvas y sabanas que se extienden bajo él. Su dieta resulta poco apetitosa, por lo que el buitre real ocupa un importante nicho ecológico y ayuda a evitar la propagación de enfermedades deshaciéndose de restos putrefactos.
El buitre real es muy colorido, lo que le distingue de otros buitres. Es blanco en su mayor parte, con la cola y los extremos de las alas negros. Tiene ojos penetrantes de color pardo y la cabeza y el cuello de varios colores (amarillo, naranja y rojo).
A pesar de vestir estos brillantes colores, en la cabeza y el cuello no tienen plumas, lo que permite a este exigente animal mantenerse limpio y evitar que las bacterias de los restos de animales se instalen en su plumaje y le transmitan enfermedades.
El buitre real(Sarcoramphus papa)es uno de los carroñeros más grandes del mundo. Tiene un fuerte y poderoso pico perfectamente adaptado para desgarrar los cuerpos de los animales muertos. Puede comer animales que otros buitres no pueden y normalmente los pájaros más pequeños le ceden el paso cuando llegan para comer.
Esta especie de buitre anida en la tierra y la hembra pone un solo huevo que ambos, hembra y macho, incuban. También los dos cuidan de sus crías, llevándoles alimento y regurgitando trocitos para ellas.
Los buitres reales se encuentran desde el sur de México hasta Argentina. Existe la opinión de que su nombre proviene de una antigua leyenda maya según la cual este buitre era un “rey” o “señor” que entregaba los mensajes que intercambiaban hombres y dioses." NG®
Portuguese C-130 during exercise Real Thaw 2018 at Monte Real air base, Portugal on 1 February, 2018.
Real Thaw 2018 is a Portuguese Air Force led live-fly exercise conducted at Monte Real air base from Jan. 29 to Feb. 9. It features 35 aircrafts and 1500 personnel from Portugal, Denmark, France, the Netherlands, Spain, the U.S. and NATO.