Face The Fear
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Old Dhaka, Bangladesh, 2013
Street is a stage of real life drama
Street is a story of emotion and reality
You, me we all are the silent participants.
We have come to stay for a while and then we are gone for forever.
But the streets will remain forever, conserving all the memories of those forgotten footprints.
The first young of the season are starting to appear - I watched and photographed this one as the sun started to set last night - and they are neat to photograph. Partly because they are fairly static, and partly because the migration is slow again to start.
In each CG family group, in my experience, there is at least one gosling that wants to carve out its own path, and strays from the adult supervision the others covet. Maybe I focus on that bird because it is more energetic, and more isolated and interesting, and maybe because it recalls my own autobiography.
From the sublime to the ridiculous: from the Grasshopper Sparrow, an increasingly rare bird under tremendous pressure as a species, to the Canada Goose: a bird many people think should be under more pressure than it is. But it is a wild and living thing, as much a part of the world I live in as Red-winged Blackbirds and Warbling Vireos. And in Mud Lake it finds the same rich habitat, for many of the same reasons, that leads many other migratory species to end up there.
Anyway - a spring seasonal greeting card from Ottawa.
Fuji X-Pro1. You may have noticed that the title has been influenced by Mr Gandhi's autobiography (who said he was experimenting with "truth"). I just wouldn't go that far.
Old Dhaka, Bangladesh, 2013
Street is a stage of real life drama
Street is a story of emotion and reality
You, me we all are the silent participants.
We have come to stay for a while and then we are gone for forever
But streets remain forever, conserving all the memories of those forgotten footprints.
Find me at Getty Images and 500px
My autobiography could be summed up in a plate of fried potatoes, the vegetable that has spanned the entire arc of my life, bringing me pleasure and never pain, and towing baggage that consists of all of the memories of my life.
Meanwhile music pounded / across hearts opening every valve to the desperate drama of being / a self in a song.
Anne Carson
THIS IS ME...
FOR FUTURE GENERATIONS...
My late Dad penning his autobiography. In his 90s, two of his favorite activities after breakfast was working on his autobiography and solving the puzzles from the daily newspaper, from Kryptoquote to Sudoku!
GROUP: SMILE ON SATURDAY
THEME: FULL OF MEMORIES
SUBJECT: MY DEAR DAD
Old Dhaka, Bangladesh, 2013
Street is a stage of real life drama
Street is a story of emotion and reality
You, me we all are the silent participants.
We have come to stay for a while and then we are gone for forever
But streets remain forever, conserving all the memories of those forgotten footprints.
Find me at Getty Images and 500px
Chandpur, Bangladesh, 2015
Street is a stage of real life drama
Street is a story of emotion and reality
You, me we all are the silent participants.
We have come to stay for a while and then we are gone for forever
But streets remain forever, conserving all the memories of those forgotten footprints.
This is an image of a puddle in the middle of a forest clearing. It was grey rainy day and the water reflects exactly that atmosphere. Small insects can be seen floating over the water if looked closely.
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3rd place winner in LCC's 2011 self portrait competition
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Picture/Windows: Blessed To See Sunsets Like This - IMRAN™
(My 144th Flickr Explore!)
See Video: [https://flic.kr/p/2oBtLm2]
I had a 6 AM to midnight day yesterday. I made it back home in time for what was surely going to be a gorgeous sunset. I set up a Timelapse on the pool deck.
However, there wasn’t enough time to go to the dock with a drone or another camera. Fortunately, I was able to capture several iPhone photos and clips from a window in the living room. This was the first one. No editing.
A magnificent sunset with a boat. This boater was a sunset lover like me and stayed there until past dusk.
Just as I would go out on my boat on the (Great South) bay and drop anchor. I would just soak in the sunset, say my prayers, have an on-the-water dinner that I would pick up driving home from work.
I loved doing that since I got my first Sea Ray SunDancer in New York in 1995. Later I did that on that same boat at Singer Island, and the beautiful Sea Ray yacht in Miami. On Tampa Bay I sometimes did that, minus dinner, on my jetski.
Last night I did it from inside the house. Blessed, grateful to the Almighty Allah, the One God and the creator of everything we often take for granted.
© 2023 IMRAN™
#Florida #TampaBay #ApolloBeach #IMRAN #beach #seaside #Tampa #Florida #lifestyle #boating #nature #motivation #inspiration #grateful #gratitude #sunset #BeachLife #Maghreb #Windows #autobiography
52 weeks of 2019 Autobiography in four parts - part one The first part is the language I learnt as a child.
Oklahoma, USA, 2016
Nothing can give you happiness and you will always have something to complain unless you do what you love to do.
Only those who have heard a gang-gang cockatoo in full voice will appreciate why she was called Ratchet. Her aviary was not far from the house, and at times, it was like living next to a saw-mill. Ratchet was one amongst a host of parrots and cockatoos passing through our aviaries in the 1980s: king parrots red and green as sliced watermelons, eastern and crimson rosellas like airborne expressionist mannequins, sulphur-crested cockatoos with bills that pierced the skin like pliers, and galahs with bellies the pink of musk lollies – all jostled for space whilst their broken bones knitted back together. Sometimes, nestfuls of younger ones would arrive in boxes, and have to be fed on infant cereal, squirted direct into their crops by means of a piece of plastic tubing attached to a syringe. Their peepings competed with the persistent chelpings of baby magpies waiting to have their gullets stuffed with minced meat rolled in bran, and of baby blackbirds demanding mealworms.
It is as impossible to convey the beauty of native Australian parrots in words, as it is to describe the unspeakable agony when a parrot decides that it is time to rip a bit out of you with its inbuilt facial wire-cutters. Polly Pirate (pictured below in the comments) specialised in looking angelic as you scratched her head, but if you lost eye contact for an instant, she would draw blood without mercy, and then laugh at you with her cherry-pink eyes. Other parrots specialised in the well-timed screech, just as you had finished feeding them and had begun to turn your back. There are few creatures with voices designed to inflict physical pain, but a cockatoo in full voice at close quarters can be a daunting prospect.
There was compensation for such discomforts. Parrots have well-developed individual personalities, and only now are we beginning to understand their intelligence. There is something very mammalian – or perhaps human - about some of their antics: the way they respond so lovingly to a good scratch behind the ear, the way they hold their food upraised in one cocked foot and hold little conversations with each other as they eat, their equal capacity for affection and for malice. When it comes to the expression of individuality, only crows can compete with them.
If you grow up surrounded by parrots, it changes your perceptions. You start to realise that our ways of appreciating intelligence and beauty in other animals are not yet very advanced. Your perception of colour and of pattern is hypersensitized. You get in the habit of carrying sticking-plasters and bandages in your pockets as a matter of course. And when cockatoos like Ratchet start turning up in boxes on your doorstep, you start to consider carrying a set of ear-plugs around with you too.
Spend an hour with an aviary full of parrots, and the next time you see a human being, you have to resist the temptation to turn up the colour-contrast and the volume. Human beings suddenly seem so desaturated.
That’s me in the orange Y-fronts and the entirely superfluous pom-pom hat, squirming about on my father’s knee. The hat was unnecessary because it was Christmas, 1972 in Canberra, and undoubtedly a very hot day. I had probably received the hat for a present, and the little knitted teddy-bear was certainly a gift from my maternal grandmother. The bear’s name was ‘Lily’, and she was destined for all sorts of adventures.
In the background is my father’s armchair. I used to sit on it with him for stories and nursery rhymes. My favourite was ‘The Ballad of the Fox’, because he used to bounce me up and down on his knee as though I was on horseback:
Old Mother Slipper-Slopper jumped out of bed
And out of the window she popped her head,
“John! John! The grey goose has gone
And the fox is off to his den-o.
I particularly liked the bit where the fox and his wife had their supper (not too good for the goose, I fear), because “they did very well without fork or knife”, which seemed to me to be eminently sensible.
At times, I was quite afraid of the carpet. I had taken it into my head that it was made of child-eating seaweed: a sort of carnivorous Sargasso, and I would always challenge myself to get onto the settee without touching it. But perhaps that particular phobia came a little later than this picture.
I remember some of the other gifts. There was a Rupert book (there was always one of those), some dried figs, and a cake of Pear’s Soap which I wanted to smell and never use. I suspect that there were bigger and more costly presents than these, but those are the ones I remember.
My mother is behind the camera. She is wearing a very short yellow dress with an orange pattern, and she is telling my dad to stop trying to instruct her on how to use the camera.
She did quite well, don’t you think?
Fuji X-Pro1. You may have noticed that the title has been influenced by Mr Gandhi's autobiography (who said he was experimenting with "truth"). I just wouldn't go that far.
chic ago
Historical compilation of Alfred Harth's collaborations with David Murray, Fred Hopkins, Dougie Bowne, Kent Kessler, Hamid Drake, Vladimir Tarasov, Simon Nabatov, Mark Dresser, Heinz Sauer, Günter Müller, Andres Bosshard, Sonny Sharrock, Phil Minton, Charlie Mariano, Karl Berger, Peter Kowald, Trilok Gurtu and Barry Altshul – recorded 1984-1997
I had done so many processed studio works in addition to numerous analogue live recordings with great musicians in the time frame 1984-1997, I compiled them here:
• Trios with Hamid Drake and Kent Kessler at the "Empty Bottle" in Chicago from 1997.
• I was invited to play and compose at the Frankfurt Jazzfestival. I wished to work on old Korean traditional court music in combination with bluesy players Murray, Hopkins, and Bowne because I think traditional Korean music and jazz have many things in common. Frankfurt radio made this recording as well as a TV recording in 1995, but unfortunately there is no CD. We wanted to continue this project but unfortunately Bowne had a bad accident and Hopkins died.
• The last performance from "QuasarQuartet" (Vladimir Tarasov, Simon Nabatov, Mark Dresser, myself) at the Jazzfestival Saalfelden in 1993. Actually this formation is the only group on this compilation which had put out another CD (POPendingEYE with a different bass player, Vitold Rek).
• 1990-92 German sax player Heinz Sauer and I worked as "Parcours Bleu A Deux" with pedal-activated electronics and words from the Bible (Apocalypse), spoken by Isabel Franke. We performed live in San Francisco and Vancouver.
• I had been working with Sonny Sharrock and Peter Brötzmann in a trio around 1987. There followed this request for Günter Müller and me together (we had been working together at that time too) to create a group for the Willisau festival, "Aleister and Alice" (Günter Müller, Andres Bosshard, Sonny Sharrock, Phil Minton, myself) . In addition to Günter, I brought in Phil Minton and Sonny.
• Last is a composition of mine from the World Music Meeting at the SWF-Radio organized by Joachim Ernst Berendt in 1984 – there exists an LP from this meeting with many different combinations of players on the defunct label "riskant" – but the following information is not on the LP: Just before this recording, a performance took place at my gallery in Frankfurt where players around the world met via telephoned "conference call". With loudspeakers connected to their phones, all the participating groups contributed poems and songs. Simultaneously, I played a tenor solo that went around the world. At that time, the idea of simultaneous global communication was pioneering, and very thrilling to all the participants. Our performance was called "Marry the world by conference call". The SWF radio meeting happened shortly after that in 1984 so I named that composition "Honeymoon After First World Marriage" (Charlie Mariano, Karl Berger, Peter Kowald, Trilok Gurtu, Barry Altshul, myself) .
Alfred 23 Harth
The website MORE A23H CDRs:
a23h-cdrs.blogspot.com/2007/12/chic-ago.html
only for PR – not for sale!
Here we are, my mother wearing an Australian army hat at the height of bushland chic, on the top of Mount Jerrabomberra, closer to Canberra. In my hand is a butterfly net, machined by my mother to my father’s exacting specification, its gusset carefully stitched, the net deep enough that it can be folded over the frame, so that the trapped butterfly can be examined without any battering of the wings. Perhaps there were swallowtails, their wings mottled with gum-leaf green. I do not remember.
Macro Mondays Member’s Choice: Inspired by a Song – 'Needles and Pins'.
The Searchers heard British performer Cliff Bennett perform "Needles and Pins" at a club in Hamburg, Germany, and instantly wanted it to be their next single. The Pye Records single was released in January 1964. It was number one in the United Kingdom, Ireland and South Africa and peaked at #13 on the Billboard Hot 100 singles chart in the United States. Soon after, in April 1964, "Needles and Pins" appeared on the Searchers' next album, It's the Searchers.
Audible during the Searchers' recording of "Needles and Pins" is a faulty bass drum pedal, which squeaks throughout the song. It is particularly noticeable during the opening of the number.
Needles and Pins is a song written by Jack Nitzsche and Sonny Bono. In his autobiography, Bono states that he sang along with Nitzsche's guitar-playing, thus creating both the tune and the lyrics, being guided by the chord progressions.
The song was originally recorded by Jackie DeShannon. Other notable versions of the song were recorded by The Searchers, Del Shannon, Cher, Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers with Stevie Nicks, Willie DeVille, Thorleifs, Gary Lewis & the Playboys, Smokie, the Turtles and Ramones. It was a number 1 hit in France when recorded in French by Petula Clark entitled 'La Nuit N'en finit Plus'. It was also covered by Czech singer Václav Neckář, with a rewritten text and under the name 'Mýdlový princ' ('Soap Prince').
my most essential art, which is not that of writing but the domestic art of knowing how to wait, to conceal, to save up crumbs, to reglue, regild, change the worst into the not-so-bad, how to lose and recover in the same moment that frivolous thing, a taste for life.
- sidonie-gabrielle colette
… In my opinion!
The book that I’m currently reading is Bob Mortimer’s autobiography.
I particularly liked the series ‘Mortimer and Whitehouse - Gone fishing’ which is and isn’t about fishing. I’m not into fishing one iota, but this TV series was brilliant.
Humorous and emotional at times.
It’s available on catch up on BBC if you’ve not seen any of the series’.
I like Paul Whitehouse as much as I do Bob Mortimer.
I binged watched each series (4 of them) when they came out.
The book is often funny… he also gives so much credit to others. A very humble bloke.
Old Dhaka, Bangladesh, 2013
Street is a stage of real life drama
Street is a story of emotion and reality
You, me we all are the silent participants.
We have come to stay for a while and then we are gone for forever
But streets remain forever, conserving all the memories of those forgotten footprints.
Find me at Getty Images and 500px
Standard 20 " 10 - Spoke Diamond Turned Alloy Wheels (Style 8)
***ONLY 250 Produced!!***** Limited Edition Autobiography Edition
I confess that I've lived
Confieso que he vivido
(inspired from Neruda's autobiography)
EXPLORE #431, 7 LUGLIO 2008
"This is a book of scar tissue, the scars I can live with and the scars that I hide."
-Eric Roberts
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www.thegirlwholeftthefridgeopen.com/blog
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