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Complete set of Galli console:
But items are also available individually
marketplace.secondlife.com/p/Adl-High-Design-Galli-Living...
Fashion Boutique
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Bay%20City%20-%20Edgartown...
elegant Empire style console. Top in marble and mother of pearl, crystal vase with a bouquet of Rose Tea. Prims sculpeted.
Manzanar internment camp. I have photographed and posted this monument before, but I'm often compelled to revisit it.
On May 16, 1942, Matsunosuke Murakami, 62, became the first of 150 men, women, and children to die in camp. He and 14 others, most infants and older men without families, were laid to rest in the Manzanar cemetery. The cemetery was outside the barbed wire fence in an old peach orchard from Manzanar's farming era. In the shadow of majestic Mt. Williamson their somber funerals and memorials were attended by hundreds of mourners.
While some deceased were sent to hometown cemeteries, most were cremated. Their ashes were held in camp until their families left Manzanar. Six burials remain today.
Visiting the cemetery can be a personal pilgrimage: of reflection, worship, remembrance, or protest. Some people leave offerings: coins, personal mementos, paper cranes, water and sake, and religious items. These are tangible expressions of the ongoing, unspoken conversations about America’s past and its future.
For more than six decades, the large concrete monument in the Manzanar cemetery has memorialized those who died here. The monument’s Japanese Kanji characters read, “Soul Consoling Tower” on the front and “Erected by the Manzanar Japanese, August 1943” on the back.
“things only exist if they are told/narrated”
(maybe of Alessandro Baricco);
“le cose esistono solo se vengono raccontate”
(probabile, di Alessandro Baricco).
www.imdb.com/it/title/tt0120889/mediaviewer/rm1687654401/...
vfxvoice.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/PIX-1-WhatDreamsM...
vfxvoice.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/PIX-7-WhatDreamsM...
vfxvoice.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/PIX-5-WhatDreamsM...
vfxvoice.com/wp-content/uploads/2018/09/PIX-4-WhatDreamsM...
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click to activate the small icon of slideshow: the small triangle inscribed in the small rectangle, at the top right, in the photostream (it means the monitor);
or…. Press the “L” button to zoom in the image;
clicca sulla piccola icona per attivare lo slideshow: sulla facciata principale del photostream, in alto a destra c'è un piccolo rettangolo (rappresenta il monitor) con dentro un piccolo triangolo nero;
oppure…. premi il tasto “L” per ingrandire l'immagine;
Qi Bo's photos on Fluidr
Qi Bo's photos on Flickriver
www.worldphoto.org/sony-world-photography-awards/winners-...
www.fotografidigitali.it/gallery/2726/opere-italiane-segn...
This photographic series of mine, taken in the Gran Camposanto of Messina, could be considered a continuation of my two previous series on the same theme, taken in various monumental cemeteries in Sicily (for those who want to learn more: flic.kr/p/2rRmE35 - flic.kr/p/2qBy35g ). The monumental cemetery of Messina, one of the most important in Europe, is very large, spanning 22 hectares, and conceived as an urban park, with the idea of an open-air gallery of modern and contemporary art. My interest in this place has roots that go beyond the beauty that is widely found among its works, beautiful sculptures (in marble, in bronze), stories described on the tombstones, architectural structures (the Famedio, a kind of mausoleum; the Cenobio, in the highest part of the cemetery, known as the "conventino"), a section of it called the "English cemetery", but my interest arises above all from the presence of the victims of the terrible earthquake of 1908: at 5:21 am on December 28, 1908, seismographs recorded the occurrence of an earthquake of exceptional intensity and great magnitude, lasting 37 interminable seconds. Coinciding with the earthquake, a terrible tsunami also occurred. Studies report that it was not the earthquake that triggered it, but rather it was caused by a large underwater landslide that occurred off the coast of Giardini-Naxos; When I was sixteen, I was told by word of mouth that during that tsunami, a mother lost her child, who was torn from her by the enormous series of waves that overwhelmed them. They were at the window of a house overlooking the sea in Giardini Naxos, undoubtedly awakened and frightened by the earthquake that had occurred about ten minutes earlier. It is one of those tragedies that belong to our oral memory. The number of victims is estimated to have been between 80,000 and 100,000 people, more than half the population of Messina and a third of that of Reggio Calabria. The tragedy sparked a wave of international solidarity, led initially and immediately by sailors of the Russian fleet, and shortly thereafter by the British, as they were present near the Strait of Messina. Immediately after the disaster, the entire "coterie" of artists then present in Taormina (the town where I live and work) decided to move, combining humanitarian and relief intent with that of testimony, each with their own means of expression: the photographer Baron Wilhelm von Gloeden and his studio assistant, my great-grandfather Gaetano D'Agata, left, bringing with them heavy photographic equipment, to document the apocalypse of Messina with crude realism, I talked about the two photographers here: ( flic.kr/p/2mVA5Ui ), the painters Robert Kitson and Carlo Siligato also left (the latter being my great-grandmother's cousin), he was Robert Kitson's life partner, he was a talented painter who graduated from the Academy of Fine Arts in Venice, and, before meeting the English artist Kitson, he had been one of the most photographed models by Wilhelm von Gloeden himself; I have described their stories here (flic.kr/p/2mYnnzi), the two painters set out with their notebooks, Kitson created historic and touching watercolors, capturing scenes of rubble and survivors, Siligato was close to him both in art and in material relief efforts; the union of this group, which left Taormina and arrived in Messina, was sealed by an extraordinary human event: among those ruins, Kitson and Siligato found an orphaned child, and so decided to adopt him, little Francesco. Kitson, Siligato, von Gloeden, and my great-grandfather Gaetano D’Agata shared a profound vision of art and life, so in the face of the tragedy in Messina, they moved as one to document, photograph, paint, and help. Another cousin by marriage of my father, Prof. Giacomo Altavilla lost his parents in the tragic Messina earthquake. He himself was miraculously saved when a sharp object pierced his skull. He survived, but always wore a plaster on his head because the wound never healed. He was adopted by a Danish family and became honorary consul of Denmark in Taormina. That terrible tragedy created a wonderful human chain of help and solidarity from all over Europe, which has much to teach us about what is happening in our times, where the recurring words are nationalism, hatred and war. The earthquake struck many areas bordering Messina, in the countryside of Castelmola (in the "Francisi" district), in the hinterland of Taormina. The mausoleum dedicated to an intelligent, benefactor and enlightened woman of English origins, Lady Florence Trevelyan, who had died the year before, collapsed. I talk about her here (flic.kr/p/qjn32z).
Now, for some brief and concise observations on what I photographed, I didn't dwell on the beautiful and interesting architectural works present. While photographing with a telephoto lens "an incredible expanse" of little angels, representing the immense pain of those who suffered the loss of those little souls, I was completely unexpectedly overcome by a sense of profound prostration. A desire to cry took over, though I couldn't, a feeling of pain and suffering in seeing that scene. I thought of something similar and at the same time different from those who have experienced the so-called "Stendhal syndrome." It wasn't the beauty of those angels that caused me that discomfort, it was probably because they were "a reflected source of profound pain." When I stopped framing them with the telephoto lens, everything passed. Who hasn't been fascinated by the "Angel of Staglieno," also known as the "Angel of Monteverde" or the Angel of the Resurrection? In the Gran Cimitero, I found a sculptor who imitated him, with a smaller-scale copy (the one in Staglieno, including the base, is about three meters tall, while the one I photographed is much smaller); the terrible earthquake caused massive collapses of buildings in Messina and the surrounding area, and the cemetery also suffered damage. I photographed a testimony from that time, a statue (wearing a fez) whose pedestal had shifted, partially coming off its base; I photographed the bronze face of a Navy lieutenant who died in a tragic accident with his ship in the English Channel. I immediately felt close to that bronze portrait, it evoked my Flickr avatar, Corto Maltese, a character created by Hugo Pratt; Among the illustrious figures present, I have given space only to Giuseppe La Farina, an Italian patriot and politician born in Messina (and died in Turin), a central figure in promoting Italian unification and supporting Giuseppe Garibaldi's Expedition of the Thousand (I hope, sooner or later, to be able to publish the photos taken at the mausoleum of the massacre of Garibaldi's men in Fantina). A compassionate hand, on the graves of many small children, had (long ago) placed small toys, stuffed animals, Lego bricks, rather than candles or flowers. Finally, I have published some faces present in the ancient tombs. It must surely be some distortion of my "photography skills," but in looking at those faces, I perceived that there was a kind of vital light in them. It seemed to me that those faces were still alive and vibrant, not frozen by time, the "temporal gap" did not exist in their gazes…
...……………………………………………….
Questa mia serie fotografica, realizzata nel Gran Camposanto di Messina, potrebbe considerarsi la continuazione delle due mie precedenti sul tema, realizzate in vari cimiteri monumentali della Sicilia (per chi volesse approfondire: flic.kr/p/2rRmE35 - flic.kr/p/2qBy35g ). Il cimitero monumentale di Messina, è uno dei più importanti d’Europa, è molto vasto, si estende per ben 22 ettari, concepito come parco urbano, con l’idea di una galleria d’arte moderna e contemporanea all’aperto. Il mio interesse per questo luogo ha radici che vanno oltre la bellezza che si trova ampiamente tra le sue opere, bellissime sculture (in marmo, in bronzo), storie descritte sulle lapidi, strutture architettoniche (il Famedio, una specie di mausoleo; il Cenobio, nella parte più alta del cimitero, conosciuto come “conventino”), una sua sezione chiamata “cimitero degli Inglesi”, ma il mio interesse nasce soprattutto per la presenza delle vittime del terribile terremoto del 1908: alle ore 05:21 del 28 dicembre 1908 i sismografi registrarono il verificarsi di un terremoto dall’intensità di eccezionale e grande magnitudo, della durata di 37 interminabili secondi, in concomitanza col terremoto si verificò anche un terribile maremoto, studi riportano che non fu il terremoto ad innescarlo, ma piuttosto fu causato da una grande frana sottomarina realizzatasi al largo di Giardini-Naxos; quando avevo sedici anni mi fu tramandato a voce che durante tale maremoto, una madre perse il suo bambino, che le fu strappato dall’enorme serie di ondate che li aveva travolti, poichè si trovavano alla finestra di una casa prospiciente il mare di Giardini-Naxos, certamente svegliati ed impauriti dal terremoto verificatosi circa dieci minuti prima, è uno di quei drammi che appartengono alla nostra memoria orale. Si stima che il numero delle vittime fu tra le 80.000 ed le 100.000 persone, più della metà della popolazione di Messina ed un terzo di quella di Reggio Calabria. La tragedia mosse una catena di solidarietà internazionale, essa fu guidata inizialmente e da subito, dai marinai della flotta russa, e poco dopo da quella inglese, poiché presenti nelle vicinanze dello Stretto di Messina. Subito dopo il verificarsi del disastro l’intero “cenacolo” di artisti allora presenti a Taormina (cittadina dove vivo e lavoro) decise di muoversi, unendo l’intento umanitario e di soccorso a quello di testimonianza, ciascuno con il proprio mezzo espressivo: partirono il barone fotografo Wilhelm von Gloeden ed il suo assistente di studio, il mio bisnonno Gaetano D’Agata, portando con loro le pesanti attrezzature fotografiche, per documentare con crudo realismo l’apocalisse di Messina, ho parlato dei due fotografi qui: ( flic.kr/p/2mVA5Ui ), partirono anche i pittori Robert Kitson e Carlo Siligato (quest’ultimo cugino della mia bisnonna), egli era il compagno di vita di Robert Kitson, era un pittore di talento diplomatosi all’Accademia di Belle Arti di Venezia, e, prima di incontrare l’artista inglese Kitson, era stato uno dei modelli più fotografati dallo stesso Wilhelm von Gloeden; le loro vicende le ho descritta qui (flic.kr/p/2mYnnzi), i due pittori partirono coi loro taccuini, Kitson realizzò storici e toccanti acquerelli, catturando scene di macerie e dei sopravvissuti, Siligato gli era vicino sia nell’arte che nelle azioni di soccorso materiale; l’unione di questo gruppo partito da Taormina, giunti a Messina, è suggellato da un evento umano straordinario, tra quelle rovine Kitson e Siligato trovano un bimbo rimasto orfano, decidono così di adottarlo, era il piccolo Francesco: Kitson, Siligato, von Gloeden ed il mio bisnonno Gaetano D’Agata, condividevano una visione profonda dell’arte e della vita, cosicchè di fronte al dramma di Messina, si mossero come un unico corpo per documentare, fotografare, dipingere, ed aiutare. Un altro cugino acquisito di mio padre, il prof. Giacomo Altavilla, perse i genitori nel tragico terremoto di Messina, egli stesso fu salvo per miracolo dacchè un oggetto penetrante gli perforò la teca cranica, egli sopravvisse ma portò per sempre un cerotto sul capo perché quella ferita non rimarginò mai, fu adottato da una famiglia Danese, diventò console onorario a Taormina della Danimarca: si era creata per quella immane tragedia una meravigliosa catena umana di aiuti e solidarietà proveniente da ogni parte d’Europa, che ha molto da insegnare a quanto accade ai tempi nostri, dove la parola ricorrente è nazionalismi, odio e guerra. Il terremoto colpì molti territori limitrofi a Messina, nelle campagne di Castelmola (in contrada “Francisi”), nell’entroterra di Taormina, crollò il mausoleo dedicato ad una donna intelligente, benefattrice ed illuminata, di origini inglesi, morta l’anno prima, Lady Florence Trevelyan, ne parlo qui ( flic.kr/p/qjn32z ). Ora, delle brevi e sintetiche osservazioni su quanto ho fotografato, non mi sono soffermato sulle pur belle ed interessanti opere architettoniche presenti; nel fotografare col teleobiettivo “una incredibile distesa” di piccoli angeli, rappresentanti dell’immenso dolore di chi ha subito la perdita di quelle piccole anime, sono stato colto in maniera del tutto inaspettata da un senso di profonda prostrazione, era subentrato un desiderio di piangere senza purtuttavia riuscirvi, una sensazione di dolore e di sofferenza nel vedere quella scena, ho pensato a qualcosa di affine ed al contempo diversa da chi ha provato la cosiddetta “sindrome di Stendhal”, non era la bellezza di quegli angioli a procurarmi quel disturbo, era probabilmente perché “fonte riflessa di profondissimo dolore”, quando ho smesso di inquadrarli col teleobiettivo, tutto è passato; chi non è rimasto affascinato nel guardare “l’Angelo di Staglieno” detto anche “l’Angelo di Monteverde o l’Angelo della Resurrezione”, nel Gran Cimitero ho trovato uno scultore suo epigono, con una copia in scala ridotta (quello di Staglieno, compreso di base è alto circa tre metri, quello da me fotografato, di dimensioni molto più contenute); il terribile terremoto causò a Messina e dintorni enormi crolli di palazzi, anche il cimitero subì dei danni, ho fotografato una testimonianza di allora, una statua (col Fez sul capo) il cui piedistallo si è spostato uscendo in parte dal suo basamento; ho fotografato il volto in bronzo di un sottotenente di Marina, morto in un tragico incidente con la sua nave nelle acque della Manica, quel ritratto in bronzo l’ho subito sentito vicino a me, rievocava il mio avatar su Flickr, Corto Maltese, personaggio creato da Hugo Pratt; tra i personaggi illustri presenti, ho dato spazio solo a Giuseppe La Farina, patriota e politico italiano, nato a Messina (e morto a Torino), figura centrale nel promuovere l’Unità d’Italia e nel sostenere la spedizione dei Mille di Giuseppe Garibaldi (spero prima o poi, di riuscire a pubblicare le foto fatte al mausoleo dell’eccidio dei Garibaldini di Fantina); una mano pietosa, su molte tombe di piccoli bimbi, aveva posto (da tempo) dei piccoli giocattoli, pupazzetti di peluche, mattoncini del Lego, piuttosto che lumini o fiori; infine, ho pubblicato alcuni volti presenti nelle vecchie tombe, sarà sicuramente una mia qualche deformazione del “fare fotografie”, ma nel guardarli, quei volti, percepivo che c’era in loro una specie di luce vitale, mi sembrava che quei volti fossero li ancora vivi e palpitanti, non cristallizzati dal tempo, il “gap temporale” non esisteva nei loro sguardi…
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SOUTHFORM - Andy Console Collection
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Hinterland/131/62/3788
A room rarely comes together because of a single object. It’s the quiet conversation between pieces that creates a sense of balance.
The Andy Collection brings together warm wood tones, refined metal detailing, and softly ribbed textures to create a modern interior arrangement that feels both clean and inviting. Designed as a cohesive composition, each piece complements the others, adding light, texture, and subtle structure to a space without overwhelming it.
Whether placed in an entryway, living area, or styled against a feature wall, the collection forms a complete and harmonious vignette.
Complete Andy Collection Set
• Console
• Mirror
• Lamp
• Vase
• Dish
• The Gentle Curve Decorative Book
Total Land Impact (entire set): 7
Each item is fully PBR and Copy / Modify, designed for modern Second Life interiors.
My own TARDIS console room design with Nth Doctor and her two companions.
Built for New Elementary's parts festival. More on Cyclopic Bricks.
==Panessa Studios, Now==
"That was a no, was it?" Pitt finished, dressed in Cluemaster's orange jumpsuit, a yellow scarf around his neck.
'I wouldn't have thought it, but Brad does play a good Cluemaster,' Gar admitted, as he turned a dial on the console.
At the side, Booker stood mouthing his counterpart's closing words.
"A very polite one, but yes."
The director rose from his chair, running his hand through his hair. "Not bad people, great work! We'll resume after lunch."
Gar nodded, removing his headset. 'Beats working for Billings, that's for sure,' he murmured, as he made a beeline for the breakroom.
"Actually-" the director called out, "Gar, can I talk to you for a minute? I brought in a construction consultant- bit of a mouthful I know, hah. I was hoping you'd give the 101 tour, the basic lay of the land."
"Oh, uh, sure," Gar said, as he zipped his jacket up.
"Great! She'll be here in a few minutes, ok. I'll send her to you."
===My Alibi. Years Ago===
Gar opened the door with a rusty creak, taking particular notice of the sign in the front window. "Private Function."
Assembled around a round table of sorts (simply several stools pushed together) were the Misfits. As the rest of the group joked about with each other, Drury, sitting at the far end, sat fiddling with his engagement ring. *His* engagement ring. Didn't even feel real. As Chuck nudged his elbow to get his attention, his eyes lit up.
"Gar! Did you see the suits I ordered?" he yelled out cheerfully.
"Yeah, they're... colourful. You, uh, seem excited," Gar noted, scratching a patch of dry skin on his neck.
"Love them! Got the bridesmaids in mellow yellow, but us lads, the OGs, we've got purple... Nothing, uh, nothing rhymes with purple, but you get my point," Drury smiled bashfully.
"Uh, sure."
"We get to pick our own logos, right?" Chuck chimed in. "For the breast pocket."
"Oh, aye, custom made. Whatever kites, calendars or flames that take your fancy. C'mon, sit down, sit down," Drury continued, as he grabbed another stool for Gar. He didn't sit down.
"Christ, Drury, you don't even have a date set," Wist gasped, a tad off put by his enthusiasm.
"We can't all elope in Vegas, Dave," Drury chuckled.
"Ha! You'd think he'd priotise that. Fortunately," Julian began. "He has me." He continued, now turning to Drury. "Now, I know you'll want to do it on Valentine's Day, all aspiring couples do, but it's cliché. Think of all the other potential holidays. Father's Day, Mother's Day-"
"Oh, I dunno, I heard Maxie Zeus made a booking then," Blake smirked.
"An Oedipus joke, Blake? Didn't know you could read..." Fiasco murmured, handing him their next round of drinks.
"Oddie who?"
"Look," Gar growled. "I just came by to let you know... Don't worry about a plus one."
Drury frowned, and turned to the group. "... Guys, give us a minute, will ya?"
"Sure thing, Drury, see you in five," Chuck nodded, as he led the group out, the wind slamming the door shut behind them.
The duo were quiet for a minute, until Drury looked up from the table, lowering his voice. "Clair said no?"
"I didn't ask."
"Gar-" he began, resting his head in his hands, exasperated.
Gar sighed, taking his gloves off, rolling up his sleeves and pointing to his face, exposing his burn marks. "How could I, looking like this Dru?"
"I-" Drury stammered, lost for words.
"Just... give it to Blake will ya?" he groaned. "I heard he's been collecting them anyway. Something about a harem, I don't know."
Drury shook his head. "Yeah, no, that's not happening. Blake, well... He's a predator."
...
Gar's jaw opened in disgust. "*Shit.*"
"Not like that!" he added hastily. "Well, a little like *ahem* He likes to hunt, is what I meant."
'You're not helping his case," Gar smirked, as he slid onto a stool.
"I don't exactly want to!" Drury stammered back, the two of them now laughing together. As the laughter fades, Drury slides a beer along the makeshift tables and Gar catches it, the duo sipping their drinks quietly. "You'll find someone, Gar, I know it."
"Oh, yeah?" Gar sipped. "What makes you so sure?"
"Easy. I did."
"You, my friend," Gar said, "still have a face."
"Ach, well-"
"Even if it's ugly as hell."
Drury looked across the table, Gar now fully smiling. "Well, we can't *all* have your smouldering good looks," he shot back.
"I," Gar grinned, "Wasn't stupid enough to pass my genes on."
===Panessa- Break Room===
Gar looked up at the TV, frowning. Lois Lane was on a tirade about Arkham, and that, that worried him. “Today marks one year since the destruction of Arkham City claimed the lives of over 100 inmates within the open-air supermax. The man-made earthquake was triggered by a machine designed by a cabal of US elites known as the Court of Owls, and facilitated by the eco-terrorist organisation, The League of Assassins. Reports on the League have been sparse; it is understood that most perished during The Society’s assault on their stronghold this past summer. The Society, a union of over two-hundred supervillains of varying levels of notoriety, was itself fragmented during the three-way confrontation between themselves, the League of Assassins, and the Justice League in the Hindu Kush Valley. Most of its leadership, including Bane, are presently incarcerated in Slabside Penitentiary, the remote metahuman prison in the South Pole. Several questions remain; how many Society members are still out there? And is Slabside Penitentiary secure enough to keep the rest contained? Doubtful. Earlier this year, Slabside was the site of Mayor Marion Grange’s death at the hands of Onomatopoeia, who at the time was meant to be securely locked away in the prison's east wing. This is Lois Lane on behalf of The Daily Planet, signing off.”
‘Drury, wherever you are, I hope you’re not watching,’ he thought, glancing over to the trio of Injustice Leaguers in the corner, clearly enjoying their newfound success- even if it was born from their ridicule.
"We're big, right?" Disaster was saying. "Why don't we get our own trailers? Or personal assistants?"
"We've still got Big Sir," Bruce said supportively, his long hair being braided by Ratchett's enormous hands.
"You'll *always* have Big Sir, Mr Major!" he interjected cheerfully.
Ignoring him, Maj. sighed. "Small comfort, Sir's as much of an actor as... Nic Cage is."
"You better take that back," one of the stage hands snapped back.
Disaster groaned. "Have you *seen* how many of those strawberries-"
"Razzies."
"- he has? I think I was being kind! ...I don't see why they have to separate us, that's all."
"Gee, why would they keep Brad Pitt away from a bunch of ex-supervillains?" a voice called out. Gar looked up, this must've been the building consultant they'd called.
She sauntered in, toolbox in her hand, belt hoisted high, and headphones resting around her neck. She liked music. 'I can work with that,' he thought.
"Gar, this, is Jenna Duffy," the director announced, following in behind her.
"Pleasure," Gar said.
"Naturally," she winked back.
"Gar, before we resume, I want you and Jenna to run point on health and safety on the set. Check those barricades. Safe, but functional yeah?" the director said, as he grabbed a coffee from the machine, and handed one to Duffy. "See you in ten."
"Got it, Edison," he called back, as his boss disappeared into his trailer. "So, Jenna! This, is the team. That's Bruce, that's Paul, you'll know Dufus, obviously."
Duffy nodded, and waved at him.
"Big Sir is saving up all his pocket money, Mrs Lady. Big Sir is going to buy a biiiiiig tricycle and a bigger wagon to carry all of his friends!" he announced proudly, blushing slightly. Gar couldn't help smile.
"Ah, Ratchett, never grow up."
"I'm gonna buy a boat!" Disaster declared loudly, putting on a pair of sunglasses excitedly. "Gonna sail the high seas!"
"Maj, the price tag's still- uh," Gar begins, sharing a smile with Duffy. At this, Booker hastily stuffs the $2.00 plastic glasses into his pocket, and straightens his tie awkwardly.
"Dammit, Bruce, you told me they were fine," he snapped.
===The Moth Cave===
Chuck rested his hand against an old picture. Heh. The Misfits were all gathered around a table in My Alibi, Len pointing a finger up at the cameraman. 'Poor Rigger,' he smiled. In the front, Drury and Miranda sat hand in hand, fresh from their wedding- her yellow dress tainted slightly by Zodiac's blood. Or maybe that Larson fellow's... 'Julian, Blake, Drury... Miranda... so few of us left,' he sighed to himself, and placed it in a cardboard box.
"Give me a hand with this, will you?" a voice called out from above.
Chuck looked up. Coming down the stairs, was Gar, with his arms laden with wine glasses, tablecloths and a thatched picnic basket. Rushing into action, he took a pair of chairs from him, and guided him to the bottom. As they laid their labours along the ground, he came across a glass bottle, nestled in a paper bag.
"Dom Pérignon... That's expensive stuff. What's the occasion?" Chuck asks, as he runs his finger along the label. Instinctively, Gar takes the bottle from his hands, and slides it back in its' box.
"Met someone," he mumbles, his cracked skin blushing slightly.
"What? Not the person you've invited to the manor for some Mothmobile themed tune-ups-?" Chuck grins, placing a hand on his back.
"Lynns, you dog," Chancer smirks.
"Speak from the heart, man!" Firebug smiles, placing an approving hand on his shoulder.
Gar shrugs it off, and he turns to the trio. "It's not- that's not- Drury's gone. Someone needs to make sure his stuff's looked after, and she just so happens to like his toys."
"Bet she's got some sick toys of her ow- Ow, why'd you hit me?!" Sharpe complains.
"Because you dissed his girlfriend-" Rigger interjects. "Not cool, man."
"I did not! T'was a compliment, Gar honest! Really, I bet she's stack- Ow! Next time, I'm gonna fuckin' shoot you!" Chancer snarls, rubbing his bruised skin. Rigger grabs him by his lapels, and drags him away.
"She's not my girlfriend-! ... Not yet anyway," Gar yells after them. "What, you not joining them" he asked, turning back to Chuck.
He sat down, perching on a particular homely looking boulder. "It's just us now, Gar. The originals. What was it Drury called us?"
"The OGs..." Gar winced slightly.
"God, we got old," Brown chuckles slightly. "Morty's still skirting his taxes, Len's been tending that bar for half our careers, Julian went Lightning Bug on us, Drury..."
"- Is Drury," Gar warned.
"And Blake... Blake was possessed by a sex demon... Look, Gar, I know I'm not him-"
Gar cocked his head to one side. "I never said you were."
"But let's just say one of us deserves to be happy, eh?" he smiles, as he pats him on the back, and joins the others.
"Gar? You down here?" Duffy calls out, as she makes her way down the stairs.
"Yeah, uh, mind the step will you?" he calls back. "18, maybe 17, is a bitch."
As she lands at the bottom, Jenna takes a look around the cave, toolbox in hand, and stops at a small bench. "Did you, um, is that, uh, a picnic basket?"
Gar turns to the spread, and nods. "Yes. Yes it is. I thought you might want, uh, a sandwich. Or something! I got miniature quiches too. And wine."
"Wine and power drills don't exactly tend to work so good, honey."
"Yes! Right," Gar turns his head, and notices Rigger in the corner, raising a proud thumb. "*Ahem.* You, uh, look... I like your skin."
The trio pause, huddling together. "Do we reckon that was *meant* to sound racist?" Chancer asks.
"What? Nah, I reckon it was self deprecating," Rigger explains, a little off put.
"Right, right. Cause his face is fucked," Sharpe says, satisfied.
"Can you guys give us some privacy, please?" an exasperated Gar asks.
"Right you are!" Chuck calls back, as he pulls the other two to their feet.
"Jenna-" Gar begins, swallowing.
"Yeah, Gar?" she asks back, a slight Irish twang in her voice.
"I-" he continues, before a loud ringtone echoes through the cave. "Oh, what now?" he growls.
"It's going down, I'm yelling timber-" the phone rings, before a gloved hand grabs it, in a desperate attempt to silence it.
"Sorry," Chancer adds sheepishly. "My phone," he explains, as he clambers back up the stairs, and puts it to his ear. "Hi, Gramps. No, yeah, on my way!"
Gar glowered, before turning back to Duffy. "Do you want to maybe instead grab a-"
"Coffee? Love to."
Sorry it's so smeary. Traffic was approaching quickly, and there was no shoulder to pull off on, so this was a quick phone snap while I might've still been rolling at a small fraction of 1 mph.
I attended the 2013 New York Audio Show this past weekend and one of the most beautiful systems on display was Symbol Audio's Modern Record Console. The Console pays tribute to the mid 20th centurey all-in-one hi-fi consoles.
The two visable speakers are driven by a 15 watt per channel tube ampifier, while a hidden subwoofer is driven by a 250 watt amplifier. In addition to playing vinyl, the unit can receive digital streaming music from any digital source through the built-in wireless router and from an iPhone, iPod and iPad.
The unit was design by Blake Tovin and Matt Richmond and each piece is bench-made to order in the Hudson Valley.
Mezco's fabby 6" Martian Commander from Mars Attacks!
Set dressing includes consoles from Palisades Swine Trek playset.
Since Max got a game console on his birthday, it has become his favorite toy! :-( He rebuilt his gaming setup with LEGO bricks - guess which console it is? ;-)
This is mostly me wanting to give GunnBuilding's TARDIS arch design a go, coupled with working up a proper powered time rotor from my previous test model.
Featuring a potential incarnation of the Doctor, full wheelchair access (really bugs me that this isn't something modern console rooms have ever had) and a few special guests lurking in the catacombs!
Nameless ENB v0.1
1080p with letterboxing for 817p (2:35:1)
RWL 2.0, ILO, custom weather through console commands
SweetFX 1.5
SMAA
FXAA
Dither
Grain
LGG
Lumasharp
DPX
Curves
Slow progress, changed the color grading a little bit more.
Minha contribuição para o Ideafixa Expressions / Enox 2011, tive a alegria de ser convidado para participar desse grande projeto junto a amigos e a pessoas muito talentosas.
Agradeço a Janara pelo simpático convite.
Mais informações: www.enox.com.br/expression
This is mostly me wanting to give GunnBuilding's TARDIS arch design a go, coupled with working up a proper powered time rotor from my previous test model.
Featuring a potential incarnation of the Doctor, full wheelchair access (really bugs me that this isn't something modern console rooms have ever had) and a few special guests lurking in the catacombs!