View allAll Photos Tagged gratification
There is just something about Polaroid film that attracts me. Perhaps it’s the instant gratification of it all. Perhaps it is the “what you see is what you get” aspect of it. There are no fancy Photoshop tricks involved- you get one shot to get it right. Perhaps it is the perfectly square format. Whatever the reason, I love that Polaroid film gives me the chance to capture moments in time, through my eyes, the way I view the world. It’s just me and my camera and that’s all I need. No Photoshop, nothing digital, just me. A world without Polaroid film is a scary thought and a world that I hope I don’t have to live in.
Genius Pablo Picasso once said: "Everything you can imagine is real". It is true, for dreams and imagination have an immense leverage on our senses and emotions. They make us feel joyous, optimistic, bright, cheerful, compassionate and yearning. They spread expectations and hope, all through our lives and stimulate our determination to pursue gratification and happiness. It is even more precise and genuine when you find a soul mate to share these dreams and imaginations with you. You will see a resemblance, a reflection of how vibrant, colorful, blissful and delightful life can be. It will innervate the bond between two people with romance of passion and sentiments. Only and only if... you find the one who can touch your heart and reach your universe, as I did.
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العبقري بابلو بيكاسو قال: "كل ما تستطيع تخيله, حقيقي". هذا صحيح, فأحلامنا وخيالاتنا تسيطر بشكل كبير جدا على مشاعرنا وانفعالاتنا. ولها القدرة على جعلنا مبتهجون, متفائلون, مشرقون, مرحون, شغوفون وتواقين. تمد وتبث في حياتنا الآمال والتطلعات التي تستحث هممنا وعزائمنا للمضي قدما في العمل والبحث الدؤوب عن الرضا والسعادة.
وهي أصدق وأجمل عندما تجد معشوقا يشاركك أحلامك وخيالاتك وتطلعاتك. ذلك التوافق سيشكل إنعكاسا للحيوية والسعادة والهناء والبهجة التي ستكون عليها الحياة. ستتعزز العلاقة بينك وبينه وستتأجج الأحاسيس والعواطف بالحب والرومانسية.
فقط.... إذا استطعت أن تجد من يلامس قلبك, ويعيش في عالمك.... كما فعلت أنا.
This is my fetish.
With fetish I meen:
"Something, such as a material object or a nonsexual part of the body, that arouses sexual desire and may become necessary for sexual gratification."
The herons are the long-legged freshwater and coastal birds in the family Ardeidae, with 64 recognised species, some of which are referred to as "egrets" or "bitterns" rather than herons. Members of the genera Botaurus and Ixobrychus are referred to as "bitterns", and, together with the zigzag heron or zigzag bittern in the monotypic genus Zebrilus, form a monophyletic group within the Ardeidae. Egrets are not a biologically distinct group from the herons, and tend to be named differently because they are mainly white or have decorative plumes. Although egrets have the same build as herons, they tend to be smaller. Herons, by evolutionary adaptation, have long beaks.
The classification of the individual heron/egret species is fraught with difficulty, and there is still no clear consensus about the correct placement of many species into either of the two major genera, Ardea and Egretta. Similarly, the relationship of the genera in the family is not completely resolved. However, one species formerly considered to constitute a separate monotypic family Cochlearidae, the boat-billed heron, is now regarded as a member of the Ardeidae.
Although herons resemble birds in some other families, such as the storks, ibises, spoonbills and cranes, they differ from these in flying with their necks retracted, not outstretched. They are also one of the bird groups that have powder down. Some members of this group nest colonially in trees, while others, notably the bitterns, use reed beds.
Description
The herons are medium to large sized birds with long legs and necks. They exhibit very little sexual dimorphism in size. The smallest species is usually considered the little bittern, which can measure under 30 cm (12 in) in length, although all the species in the Ixobrychus genus are small and many broadly overlap in size. The largest species of heron is the Goliath heron, which stand up to 152 cm (60 in) tall. The necks are able to kink in an S-shape, due to the modified shape of the sixth vertebrae. The neck is able to retract and extend, and is retracted during flight, unlike most other long-necked birds. The neck is longer in the day herons than the night herons and bitterns. The legs are long and strong and in almost every species are unfeathered from the lower part of the tibia (the exception is the zigzag heron). In flight the legs and feet are held backward. The feet of herons have long thin toes, with three forward pointing ones and one going backward.[1]
two herons, one with white plumage and one with slate grey, on a rock in the surf of the ocean
The Pacific reef heron has two colour morphs, the light and the dark
The bill is generally long and harpoon like. It can vary from extremely fine, as in the agami heron, to thick as in the grey heron. The most atypical bill is owned by the boat-billed heron, which has a broad thick bill. The bill, as well as other bare parts of the body, is usually yellow, black or brown coloured, although this colour can vary during the breeding season. The wings are broad and long, exhibiting 10–11 primaries feathers (the boat-billed heron has only nine), 15–20 secondaries and 12 rectrices (10 in the bitterns). The feathers of the herons are soft and the plumage is usually blue, black, brown, grey or white, and can often be strikingly complex. Amongst the day herons there is little sexual dimorphism in plumage (except in the pond-herons); differences between the sexes are the rule for the night herons and smaller bitterns. Many species also have different colour morphs.[1] In the Pacific reef heron there are both dark and light colour morphs, and the percentage of each morph varies geographically. White morphs only occur in areas with coral beaches.
Distribution and habitat
The herons are a widespread family with a cosmopolitan distribution. They exist on all continents except Antarctica, and are present in most habitats except the coldest extremes of the Arctic, extremely high mountains and the driest deserts. Almost all species are associated with water, they are essentially non-swimming waterbirds that feed on the margins of lakes, rivers, swamps, ponds and the sea. They are predominantly found in lowland areas, although some species live in alpine areas, and the majority of species occur in the tropics.[1]
The herons are a highly mobile family, with most species being at least partially migratory. Some species are partially migratory, for example the grey heron, which is mostly sedentary in Britain but mostly migratory in Scandinavia. Birds are particularly inclined to disperse widely after breeding but before the annual migration where the species is colonial, searching out new feeding areas and reducing the pressures on feeding grounds near the colony. The migration typically occurs at night, usually as individuals or in small groups.[1]
Behaviour and ecology
Diet
The herons and bitterns are carnivorous. The members of this family are mostly associated with wetlands and water, and feed on a variety of live aquatic prey. The diet includes a wide variety of aquatic animals, including fish, reptiles, amphibians, crustaceans, molluscs and aquatic insects. Individual species may be generalists or specialise in certain prey types, like the yellow-crowned night heron, which specialises in crustaceans, particularly crabs.[3] Many species will also opportunistically take larger prey, including birds and bird eggs, rodents, and more rarely carrion. Even more rarely there have been reports of herons eating acorns, peas and grains, but most vegetable matter consumed is accidental.[1]
Four black herons standing in low water with vegetation holding their wings over their bodies forming what looks like umbrellas
Black herons holding wings out to form an umbrella-like canopy to hunt under
The most common hunting technique is for the bird to sit motionless on the edge of or standing in shallow water and wait until prey comes within range. Birds may either do this from an upright posture, giving them a wider field of view for seeing prey, or from a crouched position, which is more cryptic and means the bill is closer to the prey when it is located. Having seen prey the head is moved from side to side, so that the heron can calculate the position of the prey in the water and compensate for refraction, and then the bill is used to spear the prey.[1]
In addition to sitting and waiting, herons may feed more actively. They may walk slowly, at around or less than 60 paces a minute, snatching prey when it is observed. Other active feeding behaviours include foot stirring and probing, where the feet are used to flush out hidden prey.[4] The wings may be used to frighten prey (or possibly attract it to shade) or to reduce glare; the most extreme example of this is exhibited by the black heron, which forms a full canopy with its wings over its body.[5]
Some species of heron, such as the little egret and grey heron, have been documented using bait in order to lure prey to within striking distance. Herons may use items already in place, or actively add items to the water in order to attract fish such as the banded killifish. Items used may be man made, such as bread;[6] alternatively striated herons in the Amazon have been watched repeatedly dropping seeds, insects, flowers and leaves into the water to catch fish.[7]
Three species, the black-headed heron, whistling heron and especially the cattle egret are less tied to watery environments and may feed far away from water. Cattle egrets improve their foraging success by following large grazing animals, catching insects flushed by their movement. One study found that the success rate of prey capture increased 3.6 times over solitary foraging.
Breeding
The larger bitterns, like this American bittern, are solitary breeders. To advertise for mates, males use loud characteristic calls, referred to as booming
While the family exhibits a range of breeding strategies, overall the herons are monogamous and mostly colonial. Most day-herons and night-herons are colonial, or partly colonial depending on circumstances, whereas the bitterns and tiger-herons are mostly solitary nesters. Colonies may contain several species as well as other types of waterbird. In a study of little egrets and cattle egrets in India the majority of the colonies surveyed contained both species.[9] Nesting is seasonal in temperate species; in tropical species it may be seasonal (often coinciding with the rainy season) or year-round. Even in year-round breeders nesting intensity varies throughout the year. Tropical herons typically have only one breeding season per year, unlike some other tropical birds which may raise up to three broods a year.[1]
Courtship usually takes part on the nest. Males arrive first and begin the building of the nest, where they display to attract females. During courtship the male employ a stretch display and use erectile neck feathers; the neck area may swell. The female risks an aggressive attack if she approaches too soon and may have to wait for up to four days.[10] In colonial species, displays involve visual cues, which can include adopting postures or ritual displays, whereas in solitary species auditory cues, such as the deep booming of the bitterns, are important. The exception to this is the boat-billed heron, which pairs up away from the nesting site. Having paired the pair continue to build the nest in almost all species, although in the little bittern and least bittern only the male works on the nest.[1]
Some ornithologists have reported observing female herons attaching themselves to impotent mates, then seeking sexual gratification elsewhere.[1]
The nests of herons are usually found near or above water. They are typically placed in vegetation, although the nests of a few species have been found on the ground where suitable trees of shrubs are unavailable.[1][9] Trees are used by many species, and here they may be placed high up from the ground, whereas species living in reed beds may nest very close to the ground.[1]
Generally herons lay between three to seven eggs. Larger clutches are reported in the smaller bitterns and more rarely some of the larger day-herons, and single egg clutches are reported for some of the tiger-herons. Clutch size varies by latitude within species, with individuals in temperate climates laying more eggs than tropical ones. On the whole the eggs are glossy blue or white, with the exception being the large bitterns which lay olive-brown eggs.[1]
Name[edit]
The word heron is rather old and of uncertain origin. It appeared in the English language c. 1300, originating from the Latin aerius meaning aerial,[11] or from Old French hairon, eron (12 century), earlier hairo (11 century), from Frankish haigiro or from Proto-Germanic hraigran.[12]
Herons are also known as "shitepokes" /ˈʃaɪtpoʊk/, or euphemistically as "shikepokes" or "shypokes". Webster's Dictionary suggests that herons were given this name because of their habit of defecating when flushed. The terms "shitepoke" or "shikepoke" can be used as insults in a number of situations.[13] For example, the term "shikepoke" appears in the 1931 play Green Grow the Lilacs, and in the 1943 musical play Oklahoma!.
The 1971 Compact Edition of the Oxford English Dictionary describes the use of "shitepoke" for the small green heron of North America (Butorides virescens) as originating in the United States, citing a published example from 1853. The OED also observes that "shiterow" or "shederow" are terms used for herons, and also applied as derogatory terms meaning a "thin weakly person". This name for a heron is found in a list of gamebirds in a royal decree of James VI (1566–1625) of Scotland. The OED speculates that "shiterow" is a corruption of "shiteheron".[14]
Another former name was heronshaw. Corrupted to handsaw, this name appears in Shakespeare's Hamlet.[15] It is also quite possible that a further corruption took place in the Norfolk Broads where to this day the heron is often referred to as a 'Harnser'.
Taxonomy and systematics
Analyses of the skeleton, mainly the skull, suggested that the Ardeidae could be split into a diurnal and a crepuscular/nocturnal group which included the bitterns. From DNA studies and skeletal analyses focusing more on bones of body and limbs, this grouping has been revealed as incorrect.[16] Rather, the similarities in skull morphology reflect convergent evolution to cope with the different challenges of daytime and nighttime feeding. Today, it is believed that three major groups can be distinguished,[17][18] which are (from the most primitive to the most advanced):
tiger herons and the boatbill
bitterns
day-herons and egrets, and night-herons
The night herons could warrant separation as subfamily Nycticoracinae, as it was traditionally done. However, the position of some genera (e.g. Butorides or Syrigma) is unclear at the moment, and molecular studies have until now suffered from a small number of studied taxa. Especially the relationship among the Ardeinae subfamily is very badly resolved. The arrangement presented here should be considered provisional.
A 2008 study suggests that this family belongs to the Pelecaniformes.[19] In response to these findings, the International Ornithological Congress (IOC) recently reclassified Ardeidae and their sister taxa Threskiornithidae under the order Pelecaniformes instead of the previous order of Ciconiiformes.[20]
Bare-throated tiger heron (Tigrisoma mexicanum)
Great bittern (Botaurus stellaris)
Eastern great egret (Ardea modesta)
Subfamily Tigriornithinae
Genus Cochlearius – boat-billed heron
Genus Tigrisoma – typical tiger herons (3 species)
Genus Tigriornis – white-crested tiger heron
Genus Zonerodius – forest bittern
Subfamily Botaurinae
Genus Zebrilus – zigzag heron
Genus Ixobrychus – small bitterns (8 living species, 1 recently extinct)
Genus Botaurus – large bitterns (4 species)
Subfamily Ardeinae
Genus Zeltornis (fossil)
Genus Nycticorax – typical night herons (2 living species, 4 recently extinct; includes Nyctanassa)
Genus Nyctanassa – American night herons (1 living species, 1 recently extinct)
Genus Gorsachius – Asian and African night herons (4 species)
Genus Butorides – green-backed herons (3 species; sometimes included in Ardea)
Genus Agamia – Agami heron
Genus Pilherodius – capped heron
Genus Ardeola – pond herons (6 species)
Genus Bubulcus – cattle egrets (1–2 species, sometimes included in Ardea)
Genus Proardea (fossil)
Genus Ardea – typical herons (11–17 species)
Genus Syrigma – whistling heron
Genus Egretta – typical egrets (7–13 species)
Genus Mesophoyx – intermediate egret
Genus undetermined
Easter Island heron, Ardeidae gen. et sp. indet. (prehistoric)
Fossil herons of unresolved affiliations
Calcardea – (Paleocene)
Xenerodiops – (Early Oligocene of Fayyum, Egypt)
"Anas" basaltica –(Late Oligocene of Varnsdorf, Czech Republic)
Ardeagradis
Proardeola – possibly same as Proardea
Matuku otagoense – (Early Miocene of Otago, New Zealand)
Other prehistoric and fossil species are included in the respective genus accounts. In addition, Proherodius is a disputed fossil which was variously considered a heron or one of the extinct long-legged waterfowl, the Presbyornithidae. It is only known from a sternum; a tarsometatarsus assigned to it actually belongs to the paleognath Lithornis vulturinus.
Inevitably, wounds heal and we look to entertain ourselves. Instant gratification becomes the priority, and we overlok the consequences of acting rashly and arrogantly.
Some say it's part of the healing process.
--
Part 5/7 of the series "Heartbreak"
Behind the Scenes video by Eva Jinn on my facebook fan page: http://www.facebook.com/#!/video/video.php?v=793163621717
Main Model: Heri Ireh
Assistant:
Russ Perry
Jo Gorsky
Concept:
Von Wong
Anick Morel
Team Leaders:
Martin Aubertin
Julien Vachon
Chantal Plourde
Kommandant Jack
Annabel Chung
AND ALL THE OTHER PARTICIPANTS!!
--
Thanks for viewing my photostream =)
Please leave a comment and feel free to throw in some constructive criticism!
©VonWong
Montreal Conceptual Photographer
vonwong.com - Facebook - Twitter - Flickr
I would say that I collect these little white pitchers, but since I only have three...a "collection" may be an inaccurate description.
While I was taking this snapshot, I noticed two things. First, I really need to dust up there. Second, there's a chip and crack on the lip of the pitcher. There's a tug at the back of my brain that is telling me I knew that was there...but it didn't stop the disappointed shock from lightly tapping me while taking the picture.
But then....hey....we all have those little chips, those little cracks in our surfaces. Some of them are physical as age slips in. Most are emotional. Either way, those chips don't make us any less beautiful, any less worthy of admiration. In some cases, they make us stronger and better and more beautiful than we could have imagined...
(Taken on my iPhone with the Hipstamatic Disposable app. Like an old film roll, you can't see any of your pictures until the entire roll is exhausted! Such fun when you're used to the instant gratification of digital cameras!!)
Auction#154
Dimensions: 9” x 7” / 22.8cm x 17.8cm, hanging panel
Tesserae: Smalti, stone, pebbles and hand-formed ceramic inclusions
“Adrift is my abstract interpretation of small creatures on the sandy bottom in the Caribbean Sea during a recent dive trip to the Yucatan Peninsula.
Flow is an important quality of life. In yoga, I bring flow and breath ‘to the mat’. Known in the art world as andamento, flow is also regarded as a very important quality of good mosaic art. Creating worthy art that displays proper flow from disparate objects gives me immense satisfaction.
In my work I endeavor to transform everyday images, feelings and experiences into things tangible and more permanent by the precise placement of individually and personally hand cut stone, glass and other natural materials. I enjoy great gratification upon cleaving open a stone that may be hundreds or even thousands of years old and appreciate the texture of its freshly opened surface and then, deciding how to shape it so that it best relates to the adjacent tessera. I create lines that flow properly to form the desired image; In so doing, I reflect myself, my life and my flow.”
Ginny Sher ~ Mosaic & Ceramic Artist
Website: www.ginnysher.com
Baking Enthusiast
Avid Scuba Diver
Yoga Practitioner, swimmer, hiker
Lover of the sea and outdoors
Guardian and best friend to Buddy
Email: ginny@ginnysher.com
California, USA
This one, the previous and the next shots, come from a forgotten roll of Portra 160 I had in my Mess-Baldix since at least one year ago. Who needs digital's instant gratification ? Not me, that's for sure ! :)
Mess-Baldix 6x6 camera, Enna Werk Munchen Ennagon 75mm 3,5, Kodak Portra 160 self developed in Rollei Compard chemicals.
Covered goblet with mythological scenes
About 1680
Balthasar Griessmann
German, 1620-1706
Ivory
A masterpiece of figural carving in relief, this goblet shows a procession honoring Bacchus (Roman god of wine). A sleeping youth is tempted by Bacchus and Venus (goddess of love), while Saturn and Minerva (deities of time and wisdom) try to restrain him. The goblet illustrates the pleasures of wine alluding to the risks of sensual gratification.
I won, I won! A free ticket! Haha... hey, better than losing right? It probably sounds weird having a personal finance blogger promote lotto tickets, but I really am a HUGE fan of them. One of the cheapest ways to have some fun entertainment with the chance of bringing in some revenue! As long as you go into it expecting to lose. That way it's a nice surprise. (and scratchers are the best for instant gratification!)
I took a Polaroid Land Camera out for a spin today. I get plenty of opportunities to shoot instant film (cannot really call it Polaroid anymore) at work, but not usually for "fun". Many people think that Polaroid and instant films are dead and gone. Many more have forgotten just how much fun, and beautiful, they can be.
Briefly, instant film is still going strong. Fuji actually produces three different films to replace the old Polaroid 669esque films in 100 speed color and black and white, as well as a 3000 speed black and white. The films are quite beautiful and work well. Fuji also produces them in 4x5 packs too. How about that. A bit of sleuthing at Goodwill and $40 spent on a camera and a battery and you can still experience the original form of instant gratification that the world enjoyed before the days of megapixels.
All of that, and that is not even mentioning Polapremium or The Impossible Project trying to ressurect types 600, SX-70 and Spectra.
For this image I took the discarded negative produced after the peeling apart of the two halves, scanned it in and inverted it to positive. The negative held more detail than the positive image, which I wanted to take advantage of. Of course, I also got all the dust sticking to the wet negative image, but the directions too.
In all, this was just for fun.
“The capacity to deny oneself gratification cannot be confused with the denial of gratification imposed on us. The masses do not know the difference and therefore never cultivate a will of their own. They are subject to the pressures of the outside world, its punishments and validations. They confuse their own needs with what others tell them to need, and their personality is nullified in the process. That's what it means to be a sheep. And yet this is not as obvious as it seems. It may mean to work from home in a warm country while your neighbors party in the swimming pool. It also means having an entire beach to yourself while they are at work. Both situations demand that you question your sanity and challenge your character as a person. The masses will never do that. They are too weak.”
― Dan Desmarques
The very last of the images I have from my latest show, "Dapper" which just wrapped up last week. Quite a successful show, it was great to see lots of folks both new and familiar come out to enjoy the work I do.
This image was taken by none other than Mr. Michael Raso of the Film Photography Project. While at the show rifling away with Fuji instant film, Mike managed to find time to put together some equally awesome short video clips:
www.filmphotographyproject.com
www.youtube.com/watch?v=3RAEWjAPE78&feature=g-all-u
www.youtube.com/watch?v=jzKtxGimMqU&feature=plcp
I've grown so fond of these Instax Mini images that soon I know one is going to make its way into my camera bag. >__<
Polaroid 300 Camera
Fuji Instax Mini
Flash On
I have no Mandalay to dream of and was not in bed with my catamite when the archbishop came to call. Neither am I stately, nor plump, being of the rakish persuasion, and my days of intoning introits in Latin are long gone. I simply have a story to tell of a friendship that grew through difficult times. This story was facilitated by a technological breakthrough, the invention of the internet and the resuscitation of letter writing in the form of, that organ which then passed for immediate gratification, the e-mail.
That my characters are contemporary is evinced in their taking exactly that immediate gratification for granted. Their contemporaneity is also manifest in their sharing of that dreaded disease, generated towards the end of the last Millennium, that other pandemic. But how contemporary is last century really? Presently, some 35 years after their first encounter, they are still exchanging e-mails, and have even advanced to that scourge of this new century, the ‘Immediate Message’. They have somehow, against all the odds, grown older, whilst still managing to surprise each other with their delinquency.
They bask in last century’s 'Disease du Jour', like those malapropped allegories on the banks of the Nile, aware of somehow having missed a flotilla of boats. They point and laugh a lot, gesturing both at and with each other.
They are Rack and Ruin, brazen ‘Wild Geese’ denizens of London and New York, two cities which both generated and proffered succour for the unravelling of their story, both formerly of dirty little Dublin, home of the plump and the stately and the resounding, émigré “Yes”.
Dear Ruin.
Ruin Bon-Bon. Can I tell you a secret? I never stole sweeties from your dad’s aptly named shop. But I like the story. Can we pretend that I did? We did steal sweets from a shop, but it was in Palmerstown, not Clondalkin. That Tír na nÓg was too far for us to wander from school. But I would have stolen them if I'd ever been in the shop. So, it's immaterial really.
I'm off to bed. Let me know dates for your fete and I will book a flight. I need something to look forward to, and your demi-century is just the thing. Is there anything I should purchase for you on credit cards before they get confiscated? Shoes, underwear, electronic gizmo?
Much love,
Rack
Hi Rack,
I guessed the sweet robbing was a suburban myth, as I am sure Sally realises I was not raised in a ‘Magdalene Laundry’, but I love the story too and encourage you, both, in its proliferation. I like to think that you were responsible for reducing my family (single-handedly) to penury and my father to alcoholism, necessitating that my lecherous uncle would have to move in with us, pay rent, and be domiciled in my bed, where he would abuse me, making it necessary for me to run away to New York to become an artist and meet the authoress of my misfortune. Don’t you think it has a certain poetry? We must encourage it. Rack, the authoress of Ruin’s ruin. I probably picked up our shared lurgy at some epicurean feast (at Thanksgiving, perhaps) where you purposely bled into the Balsamic as an act of vengeance for my once catching you with your grubby middle-class, protestant, mitts in my bon-bons. It is now my job to lead you towards your redemption, being of the Nick Nickelby ilk, one who sees good in everyone, even you! Anyway, we never once had public-school girls, or boys for that matter, in our shop, I would have remembered. I never saw a public-school person until I arrived in London. It was around the same time that I discovered that all cheese didn’t come in thin plastic slices with paper between them, and that you could put this stuff on salad, called dressing, to make it much more palatable. And, heavens to Betsy, fish do not have fingers, even of the breaded variety. It was a time of great discovery but also the time that I realised there was another system for people with money, and that this encompassed a strange phenomenon called public-schools, which in fact were the very opposite of this misnomer, they were private schools. You see, I would have remembered you with awe as a truly exotic creature, the likes of which I had never seen before.
It is Sunday early afternoon here in Kennington, a winter’s ‘day of rest’ in the year of our Lord, 2003. Today I feel a bit like a whipped dog, having not been able to sleep. I found myself getting into quite an emotional state last night. We both know this happens. It was strangely overpowering and has left me somewhat wrecked today. I have been sleeping badly for the last few weeks and feel this must have something to do with the ‘Sustiva’ effect. These exotically named drugs which keep us alive do demand that a toll be paid. I will see my doctor tomorrow and might make a request to get some mild sleeping pills to deal with some of the hallucinatory and sleep depriving side effects. There is a certain ache in my joints that might be drug-generated also. I am feeling somewhat beleaguered.
My 50th birthday is the 12th of February, which falls on a Thursday next year. It is a birthday that I share with your former President Lincoln, and Mr Charles Darwin. I take a certain ridiculous pride in that fact, as if something or other was automatically transferred by this coincidence. It somehow fits with my awful compunction to drop names, something, perhaps, I should look at seriously at some point. Thursday is a good day for a party, don’t you agree? There will be less likelihood of out-and-out dissipation, as most of the attendees will have to work the following day. I will have to celebrate it at home as opposed to at a venue so the numbers will have to be kept down to the essential people in my life. I will be thrilled to have you here. It is strange, new, and exciting for me, to have a home to which I can invite people at last. I am astonished that in achieving my demi-century I am for the first time settled in what could pass as a home of my own, the allure of the itinerant life having, at last, waned.
It will be one of those peculiar evenings, similar to those parties we used to throw in Manhattan, one of those ‘potluck’ affairs where all the guests bring edibles of their choosing to add to the others brought. In short, I will be supplying the ailing and ageing host and the rooms, bereft of furnishings or creature comforts. Not owning anything means that little effort needs to be put into moving things out of the way! I am so looking forward to the event and have had acceptance replies from as far afield as Helsinki, Dublin, and New York, each promising to lavish me with delicacies from their points of departure. It will be fun! So, expect Herring, Spuds and Hot dogs.
I would love to eat at your epicurean restaurant in Downtown Manhattan. From your description of your own encroaching financial undoing, I might never get to do so. Let’s slink off together to lick our wounds and find a hovel somewhere to hide from the world and make art and write! We can describe the licking.
But, that scurrilous suggestion excludes your gloriously epicurean companion, your ‘Him indoors’. I love to watch him eat, drink and savour. He manifests the most extreme Epicureanism I have ever encountered. As you know, my tendency is towards the Rabelaisian, though I must be Rabelaisian with a worm, resembling Laurel rather than Hardy. I like to think that a rake is just a glutton with a worm. However, an Epicurean could never get a worm as his refined palate would never allow it to pass his constantly monitoring lips. To make yourself bankrupt due to excess of taste, as opposed to excess of appetite, seems noble and romantic to me. Duchamp and Joyce would have approved, Austen would not.
As for change, yes, I have changed. I am no longer insecure; that freckled kid couldn’t talk, he stuttered uncontrollably. I can talk. Some would say too much. Certain things remain the same maybe, this feeling of lack of entitlement. This inability to smile at the camera. It was far from ripe Stilton and Balsamic that I was brought up. I guess though that there have always been curtains and that I always loved the light through them and listening to the wind howling outside or the rain on the roof. That was always hugely pleasurable, so I guess I just see it more clearly now. Even cheap polyester lace curtains filter light beautifully, as I rediscovered in Brixton. I have more of an affinity with cheap polyester, fish-fingers, and state school. These are more me. Sometimes I am amazed that I have learned to move through a world I wasn’t born into. I have known some truly glorious women. We are all somewhat damaged in different ways but are hugely tender and forgiving towards each other.
That is our strength. The curtains are glowing and I am feverish.
A six pack of white kegs (Hanes) from Century 21 ($9.99), next door to the missing twin towers, would be a perfect 50th birthday present! My drawer’s drawer is somewhat wanting.
Skid-marked and skittish.
Love,
Ruin
Dear Ruin,
I will be there, knickers in hand, February 12th. 2004
Much, much love,
Rack
It takes 3 pots and a carefully choreographed procedure to make coffee at my house. Grind the beans, boil the water, pour over the grinds into the Chemex, steal a mug full for immediate gratification, then filter the rest into the refrigerator bottle.
Taken for Flickr's Our Daily Challenge: EVERY PICTURE TELLS A STORY
Over the past few weeks, I've been going absolutely Spectra crazy!
Playing around just before Xmas, I borrowed a snazzy little Polaroid Spectra Close-Up kit from Mr. Michael Raso of the Film Photography Podcast. WARNING: This closeup kit + Impossible Project film needs A LOT of light! But when you can nail down the "pull string" focusing, you'll be rewarded with great shots.
There was this very cool 4x5 monorail camera hanging out in Imagine That! one day, and just had to get a cool close-up of it with the Spectra kit.
Polaroid Spectra SE
Closeup Attachment w/ "pull string"
Impossible PZ 680
shot back in 1991 on Kodachrome slide film ASA 64
about a 10 second shot, no idea I 'got it' until two
weeks later when I got my film back !!
ahh, the good 'ol days of delayed gratification ...
when checking the mail was like Christmas every day!
photo date/id to order a print: 19911108_AB0219Bb
click the pic to view on black
It’s been a long time since I had any contest results here on my photo-stream - but finally, the moment you have been waiting for has arrived! The official results of my 2016-17 Bodycon Dress Contest are now in. And here they are:
Dress # 1 (black-and-yellow cocktail dress with sheer bodice and sleeves): 496 votes
Dress # 2 (long-sleeved pink dress with slit skirt): 343 votes
Dress # 3 (short and sheer long-sleeved white cage dress): 426 votes
Dress # 4 (short red dress with spaghetti straps): 368 votes
I therefore hereby declare Dress # 1 to be the official winner! And here is a new picture of me modelling the winning outfit... as chosen by all of YOU !
BTW... my husband really likes this photograph, a lot! "It makes you look so romantic and desirable, my Darling, and yet so aloof and unattainable!” he said, drooling in an even more fawning way than usual. "I totally agree, Sweetheart" I replied "… and I believe that other men will think so, as well. That’s why I am planning to use this image to promote my own personal services at our Mayfair Escort Agency. The accompanying text will make it crystal clear that I am - on the contrary - readily available for sexual gratification, although of course only for the super-rich! Perhaps something like: 'I'm the best. But can you afford me?' might stimulate business. At any rate, we will soon know if your theory is correct!”
My poor hubby blushed to the roots! He adores and craves being a cuckold - but when I rub his nose in his situation, he still acts embarrassed. Men are such contradictory creatures !!!
More contest winners to come soon!
Love and Sweet Kisses to All!
xxxxxxx
Lady Rebecca Lyndon
Duchess of Basingstoke
BTW, I have so many bodycon dresses waiting to be modelled, that a new 2017 Rebecca George Bodycon Dress Contest will be starting almost immediately! I hope nobody objects!
xox
Lady Rebecca
womensonlinestore.com/sexy-womens-clothing/sexy-lingerie/...
This Sultry Pearl Trim G-string is a delicious addition to your usual sexy lingerie. The cheeky string construction offers strategically flirt and effortless blissful gratification like never before. In its place is a string of pearls that rub against the wearer’s clitoris and...
Runnymede is a water-meadow alongside the River Thames in the English county of Surrey, and just over 20 miles (32 km) west of central London. It is notable for its association with the sealing of Magna Carta, and as a consequence is, with its adjoining hillside, the site of memorials. Runnymede Borough is named after the area, Runnymede being at its northernmost point.
Topography
The name Runnymede refers to land in public and National Trust ownership in the Thames flood plain south-west of the river between Old Windsor and Egham. The area includes (to the west of A308 road) the Long Mede and Runnymede, which together with Coopers Hill Slopes is managed by the National Trust. There is also a narrower strip of land, east of the road and west of the river, known as the Yard Mede. Slightly further downstream from the area shown on the map are (inter alia): a recreational area with a car park; a number of private homes; a large distribution centre; and an hotel.
The landscape of Runnymede is characterised as "Thames Basin Lowland", urban fringe. It is a gently undulating vale of small fields interspersed by woods, shaws, ponds, meadows, and heath. The National Trust area is a Site of Nature Conservation Interest (SNCI) which contains a Site of Special Scientific Interest. Both sites are overseen by Runnymede Borough Council.
The National Trust holding includes:
188 acres (0.76 km2) donated in 1929 set behind a narrow riverside park with occasional benches on the southern river bank, with car and coach parking;
110 acres (0.45 km2) of broadleaved woodland on Coopers Hill Slopes, given in 1963 by the former Egham Urban District Council.
Long Mede is a meadow north of the ancient "mede" (meadow) of Runnymede towards Old Windsor and has been used for centuries to provide good-quality hay from the alluvial pasture. Runnymede itself lies towards Egham. It is likely that Runnymede proper was the site of the sealing of Magna Carta, although the Magna Carta Memorial (see below) stands on Long Mede, and the event is also popularly associated with Magna Carta Island, on the opposite bank of the Thames.
Near the Island, on the north-east flood plain, in parkland on the eastern bank of the river, are Ankerwycke and the ruins of the 12th century Priory of St Mary's. The Thames has changed course here occasionally, and these areas may once have been an integral part of Runnymede. Both were acquired by the National Trust in 1998.
History
Runnymede's historical significance has been heavily influenced by its proximity to the Roman Road river crossing at nearby Staines-upon-Thames.
The name Runnymede may be derived from the Anglo-Saxon runieg (regular meeting) and mede (mead or meadow), describing a place in the meadows used to hold regular meetings. The Witan, Witenagemot or Council of the Anglo-Saxon Kings of the 7th to 11th centuries was held from time to time at Runnymede during the reign of Alfred the Great. The Council met usually in the open air. This political organ was transformed in succeeding years, influencing the creation of England's 13th century parliament.
The water-meadow at Runnymede is the most likely location at which, in 1215, King John sealed Magna Carta. The charter indicates Runnymede by name as "Ronimed. inter Windlesoram et Stanes" (between Windsor and Staines). Magna Carta had an impact on common and constitutional law as well as political representation also affecting the development of parliament.
Runnymede's association with ideals of democracy, limitation of power, equality and freedom under law has attracted placement there of monuments and commemorative symbols.
The last fatal duel in England took place in 1852, on Priest Hill, a continuation of Cooper's Hill by Windsor Great Park.
The National Trust land was donated in 1929 by Cara Rogers Broughton and her two sons. The American-born widow of Urban Hanlon Broughton, she was permitted by letter from George V to join her son's new peerage in tribute to her husband and this gift and be officially styled Lady Fairhaven. The gift was given in memory of Urban Broughton. At the time the New Bedford Standard-Times commented "It must be a source of gratification to all Americans, and especially to us here and in Fairhaven, that the presentation of this historic spot as public ground has been brought about by an American woman, an appropriate enough circumstance considering that the great charter underlies the USA's conception of government and human rights."
Features
Urban H. Broughton Memorials
After the death of Urban Broughton in 1929, Sir Edwin Lutyens was commissioned to design a set of twin memorials consisting of large kiosks and posts or "piers" with stone blocks crowned with laurel wreaths and formalised urns at the Egham end and with lodges and piers at the Windsor end. Lutyens also designed a low wide arch bridge to carry the main road over the Thames to the north, integrating the road layout and bridge design into his plans for the memorials. The southern kiosks were moved to their present location when the M25 motorway was constructed.
There are two octagonal kiosks with piers facing each other across the A308 towards Egham. These piers are a shorter version of those adjacent to the lodges either side of the same road towards Old Windsor in the Long Mede. The lodges show typical Lutyens design features with steeply angled roofs, large false chimneys and no rainwater gutters at the eaves.
The piers carry similar inscriptions. On one face is the inscription:
“ In these Meads on 15th June 1215 King John at the instance of Deputies from the whole community of the Realm granted the Great Charter the earliest of constitutional documents whereunder ancient and cherished customs were confirmed abuses redressed and the administration of justice facilitated new provisions formulated for the preservation of peace and every individual perpetually secured in the free enjoyment of his life and property. ”
and on the other the words:-
“ In perpetual memory of Urban Hanlon Broughton 1857 – 1929 of Park Close Englefield Green in the county of Surrey Sometime Member of Parliament These meadows of historic interest on 18th December 1929 were gladly offered to the Nation by his widow Cara Lady Fairhaven and his sons Huttleston Lord Fairhaven and Henry Broughton ”
The memorials were opened in 1932 by the Prince of Wales (Edward VIII) and are Grade II listed buildings.
Langham Pond SSSI
Langham Pond was created when the meandering River Thames formed an oxbow lake. Its status as a wetland Site of Special Scientific Interest (SSSI) was first notified in 1975 and later reviewed under Section 28 of the Wildlife and Countryside Act 1981 when the protected area was extended to 64 acres (260,000 m2) within Runnymede as managed by the National Trust.
The pond and associated meadow form a habitat considered unique in Southern England and of international importance for nature conservation. The flora and fauna include nationally scarce plants and insects including a species of fly unrecorded elsewhere in the United Kingdom.
Air Forces Memorial
The Air Forces Memorial commemorates the men and women of the Allied Air Forces who died during the Second World War and records the names of the 20,456 airmen who have no known grave.
From the top of the tower visitors can see long views over Windsor, the surrounding counties and aircraft taking off and landing at Heathrow. On a good day visitors can see as far as the Wembley Arch and even the Gherkin in the City of London. The memorial was designed by Sir Edward Maufe, architect of Guildford Cathedral.
John F. Kennedy Memorial
The British memorial for U.S. President John F. Kennedy was jointly dedicated in May 1965, by Queen Elizabeth II and Jacqueline Kennedy, prior to a reception for the Kennedy family at Windsor Castle. The memorial consists of a garden and Portland stone memorial tablet inscribed with the famous quote from his Inaugural Address:
“ Let every Nation know, whether it wishes us well or ill, that we shall pay any price, bear any burden, meet any hardship, support any friend or oppose any foe, in order to assure the survival and success of liberty. ”
Visitors reach the memorial by treading a steep path of irregular granite steps, intended to symbolise a pilgrimage. There are 50 steps in total. Each step is different from all others, with the entire flight made from 60,000 hand-cut granite setts.[10] Landscape architect Geoffrey Jellicoe designed the garden; sculptor Alan Collins designed and carved the stone inscription. The area of ground on which the memorial is situated was given as a gift to the United States of America by the people of Britain. (Though property ownership was transferred to the federal government of the United States, the area remains under the sovereignty of the United Kingdom.) It is maintained by the Kennedy Memorial Trust, which also sponsors educational scholarships for British students to attend university in the United States.
In 1968 the 7-ton stone was damaged by a bomb during a time of anti-Vietnam war demonstrations; it was later repaired by the sculptor.
Magna Carta Memorial
Situated in a grassed enclosure. on the lower slopes of Cooper's Hill, this memorial is of a domed classical style monopteros, containing a pillar of English granite on which is inscribed "To commemorate Magna Carta, symbol of Freedom Under Law". The memorial was created by the American Bar Association (ABA) to a design by Sir Edward Maufe R.A., and was unveiled on 18 July 1957 at a ceremony attended by American and English lawyers.
Since 1957 representatives of the ABA have visited and rededicated the Memorial, renewing pledges to the Great Charter. In 1971 and 1985 commemorative stones were placed on the Memorial plinth. In July 2000 the ABA came:
“ to celebrate Magna Carta, foundation of the rule of law for ages past and for the new millennium. ”
In 2007, on its 50th anniversary, the ABA again visited Runnymede. During its convention it installed as President Charles Rhyne, who devised Law Day, which in the USA represents an annual reaffirmation of faith in the forces of law for peace.
In 2008 floodlights were installed to light the memorial at night.
In 2015, in anticipation of the 800th anniversary of the sealing of Magna Carta, the two wooden benches at the memorial were replaced by stone benches. On 15 June, the anniversary day, the ABA, accompanied by US Attorney General Loretta Lynch, rededicated the memorial in a ceremony led by HRH The Princess Royal in the presence of Her Majesty the Queen and other members of the Royal family.
The Magna Carta Memorial is administered by the Magna Carta Trust, which is chaired by the Master of the Rolls.
Ceremonial Tree Plantings
The Duke of Kent together with David K. Diebold, a Minister-Counselor at the US Embassy in London, planted an oak tree adjacent to the Magna Carta Memorial in 1987, as did P. V. Narismha Rao, Prime Minister of the Republic of India. The Prime Minister left a plaque reading:
“ As a tribute to the historic Magna Carta, a source of inspiration throughout the world, and as an affirmation of the values of Freedom, Democracy and the Rule of Law which the People of India cherish and have enshrined in their Constitution. March 16, 1994 ”
In 1987 two further oak trees were planted near the Memorial. One, planted by Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II, marked National Tree Week. Another, planted by John O. Marsh, Secretary of the Army of the USA, has a plaque which reads:
“ This oak tree, planted with soil from Jamestown, Virginia, the first permanent English settlement in the New World, commemorates the bicentenary of the Constitution of the United States of America. It stands in acknowledgement that the ideals of liberty and justice embodied in the Constitution trace their lineage through institutions of English law to the Magna Carta, sealed at Runnymede on June 15th, 1215. ”
The Jurors
The Jurors artwork was commissioned by Surrey County Council and the National Trust to mark the 800th anniversary of the sealing of Magna Carta. The sculptor Hew Locke created 12 bronze chairs each of which is decorated with symbols of past and present struggles for freedom, equality and the rule of law. The artist / sculptor invites participants to sit, reflect upon and discuss the themes represented. In the image the back of the chair nearest the viewer is a representation of Nelson Mandela's prison cell on Robben Island, South Africa. The portrait seen of the further chair is of Lillie Lenton wearing insignia related to the imprisonment and activism of suffragettes.
The installation was inaugurated at Runnymede by Prince William during the Magna Carta 800th Anniversary celebrations.
Cooper's Hill House
A large house on Cooper's Hill, overlooking Runnymede and the River Thames, has played a number of roles – as the Royal Indian Engineering College; wartime Post Office headquarters; storage for the Statue of Eros during World War II; an emergency teacher training college; Shoreditch College – a centre for craft and handiwork education – and most recently, Brunel University's design school (has removed to Uxbridge Main Campus).
Ankerwycke Yew
The revered +1,400 year old Ankerwycke Yew, on the left bank of the river, is also a possible site where Magna Carta may have been sealed. The sacred tree could have been the location of the Witan council and influenced the founding of St Mary's Priory there. This religious site may well have been the preferred neutral meeting place of King John and the barons.
Land development proposals threatening the yew led to action resulting in the tree and surrounding estate passing into the protection of the National Trust in 1998.
Henry VIII is said to have met Anne Boleyn under the tree in the 1530s.
In 1992, botanist and environmental campaigner David Bellamy led a dedication at the yew, stating:
“ We the free people of the islands of Great Britain on the 777th anniversary of the signing of Magna Carta do:
Look back and give thanks for the benefits that the signings, sealing and swearing of oaths on that document handed down to us. Look forward to a new age of freedom through sustainability by granting the following rights to all the sons of plants and animals with which we share our islands and our planet.
”
There followed ten pledges to sustain all life forms.
Location and access
Runnymede is 20 miles (32 km) west by southwest of the centre of London. It is owned by the National Trust and is open 24 hours, seven days a week, at no charge.
Runnymede is accessed via the road or river towpath on foot or by bicycle, or by motor vehicle via the A308 road near Egham about 4 miles (6.4 km) southeast of Windsor. Two car parks (on the A308) adjoin the Windsor entrance (these may be closed in winter due to flooding etc.). Runnymede is also along the Thames Path National Trail. The nearest railway station is Egham. One of the Lutyens lodges at the Windsor entrance to the meadow houses a popular tea room.
The Anckerwycke area on the other bank of the river is accessible from the B376 between Wraysbury and Staines (nearest station Wraysbury).
Last week, I found out via Twitter that a contact of mine was selling some lightly expired Polaroid 779. Springing into action, I called up Leslie at Imagine That! and within a few days, we had our hands on some of the best expired Polaroid 600 film that I've ever shot. Couple late dated Polaroid with an SLR 680, and you're in heaven!
For the initial test of this beast of an instant film combination, I used my favorite model and her best friend Val for a quick portrait. Note: disable the on camera flash next time! >__<
Polaroid SLR 680
Polaroid 779, 03/09 Expiration
+/- Dial set at 0
Flash On
matmarrashblog.squarespace.com/blog/2012/3/24/the-epitome...
Barisal, 2011
Here comes the spring again…with all the aroma of gratification
Here comes the childhood again….with all the scent of happiness
Captured from somewhere between Barisal and Kuakata. Children are playing inside a sunflower garden.
Almost immediately after stumbling into Butler, NJ later last month, I met up with FPP founder and host, MIchael Raso. We grabbed a quick bite to eat at "The Angry Deli" pictured behind, and shot some more Polaroids. Mike and I were both impressed with the 420's ability to handle a wide range of indoor/outdoor scenes. For Xmas just a week later, Mike was kind enough to gift me a brand new FPP-Flash with custom FPP Flash Bracket. If you're looking to get some great indoor portraits with your automatic land camera, look no further than this nifty little thing!
filmphotographyproject.com/store/fpp-490-electronic-flash...
You can also check out Michael's work in these two places:
www.flickr.com/photos/michaelraso/
Polaroid 420 Automatic Land Camera
Fuji FP-100c
+1 Lighten
© All rights reserved. E Martinez
There seems to be no end to the flora and fauna of life in this city. From the ridiculous to the sublime. From the superlative to the quotidian. The wonderous varieties of humanity to are all here. This is the second year I’ve been to this festival and all I saw were children of God looking for love, recognition and comfort. What can I say? This is NYC.
New York's only S/M Leather/Fetish block party: the largest outdoor event of its kind on the East Coast. The success of FSE has enabled GMSMA to donate and support organizations like: The LGBT Community Center, the NYC Gay and Lesbian Anti-Violence Project, the National Coalition for Sexual Freedom, God's Love We Deliver, and Rivington House.
For more details click here folsomstreeteast.org/
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tit_torture Tit torture refers to any of several erotic BDSM activities focusing solely on inflicting pain on the breast, nipples, and areola for sexual gratification. Breast-oriented BDSM activities range from relatively safe and benign, such as the use of clothespins on the nipples, light flagellation, or simple breast bondage to activities that can include great risk, such as more severe caning, amateur piercing, or being suspended by the breasts.
Though I have many more, I think this will be the last digital image from my recent swing through Oregon that I will post for a while. I just printed all of my film from that week last night and I need to start working through a few of those images or I will just fall too far behind. Not that I mind so much posting images three months down the road mind you. In fact in some ways I sort of prefer it.
It is an interesting experience for me, being used to the wait of film, to be able to rush immediately home and quickly process the images, speedily editing them all in the frantic haste to post the latest image I have snapped.
Notice the nature of the verbs, adverbs, adjectives and nouns I used?
There are things I like and dislike about that. Sure, it is nice to keep current, to show those looking where you have been, or if you have been shooting a specific place, to offer your images up for contrast and comparison to all the others being posted. But at the same time I like the settling down that waiting for film lets me do. It gives me time to reflect, to ponder, to mull. It gives me time to find something specific to add to each piece, rather than it being "look where I was last night and how great it was!" A good case in point was the previous image I posted. It was ok, but if it had been on film it would have been a long time before it got posted, if ever. I rushed that one. But the image before it at Bandon I knew I really liked, it would have gone up regardless of being film or digital.
And that is sort of the embodiment of digital isn't it? Instant gratification. For when we just have to have it right NOW. And I admit, that quality of shooting digital is alluring and at times downright convenient and helpful. But at times too it makes it too easy to get caught up in not only enjoying instant gratification, but trying to provide it as well, and then the results feel diluted to me.
I am not complaining, or saying one is better than the other, they both have their pros and cons, mainly just musing here and reflecting on my own experiences dealing with the two different approaches.
It is interesting and telling I think.
This was taken on a mostly clear day at Smelt Sands, a way cool, mildly overlooked stopping point along the Oregon coast that I found utterly by happenstance on a previous trip a year or so ago. Now I never fail to stop.
The bank of clouds on the horizon was an incoming marine layer that turned the sky completely overcast about two hours after this image was shot.
It was great. I love cloudy weather at the beach.
Search Engine Masturbation = Google Search + Live Search + Yahoo Search + RSS
Concept
Instead of daily vanity/ego search, create a Yahoo Pipe to search simultaneously using Google, Live and Yahoo and turn them into an RSS feed. In other words, instead of turning yourself into a bot to monitor the bots' activities, spend your time to create relevant content be indexed instead!
3. SML Flickr: SEM: Run Pipe: See-ming Lee
I made up a few of these over the past few days. Felt so good to have some instant gratification after working on my mom's quilt! Tutorial found here.
Instant Gratification show @ the White Walls Gallery, San Francisco. 12 hours of live painting.
The show was mostly an ensemble of male artists with a general theme of cockrockin running throughout. I felt this painting was out of place, yet a breath of fresh air. Lovely execution.
Artist: Audrey Kawasaki www.audrey-kawasaki.com/
artist's pics of the show here
Okay, I'll take a non-grainy picture some other time - also, I was having trouble fitting the entire skirt in the mirror - it's very poofy.
This was my instant gratification "It's Done!" picture.
... is a super delightful movie from 1998 I watched "out of due season" this morning. I got this advertisement from Amazon for a membership (I think they call it Prime Member status ) to have instant access to 5000 movies. Since I currently belong to two "instant gratification" programs, I decided to check it out with their 30 day trial. It looked good, so I dropped one of my existing programs, which had some inconveniences involved, but kept my Netflix all at a savings of a couple of bucks a month. The savings was insignificant, but the quality of movie is really much better. Just thought you'd like to know.
City of Angels is not about Los Angeles in particular, but about life, relationships, angels, fallen angels and with the primary message "life is good." We knew that already, didn't we? I would describe the genre of City of Angels as Theological Science-Fiction.
Here's Wikipedia on the movie ...
en.wikipedia.org/wiki/City_of_Angels_%28film%29
I don't know if I'll ever get around to talking about Vicky Christina Barcelona, I watched another "to die for" movie last night and it introduced two more "to die for movies." Life has soooooo many problems. One of the movies introduced has Bob Dylan starring..... It's an older movie, but I don't think I ever knew before that Bob Dylan had been in a movie. I'll talk about these more later on...ok? Adios, now you-all, you behave yoself, you heah?
The interfaces that lead us into cyberspace prove that one cannot detach technology from desire. Digital technologies promise to transcend familiar reality and to connect us to the paradise that reality has taken from us. Down with the detours and delays of reality: let us have instant gratification! What we cannot have in reality, we can have via the fantasy screen. As a “consensual hallucination” cyberspace would be the utopic, new ideal world.
Interface Fantasy: A Lananian Cyborg Ontology – Andre Nusselder
In the virtual world of Second Life, where status is often accrued by having the best collection of sexually appealing avatars, desire and its ultimate physical endpoint, sex (or in this case cybersex), prevails. Cybersex is “more than role play it is the creation of a shared fantasy.” Avatars are hollow – avatars are pure, avatars are clean, avatars have no orifices. They do not leak, shit, sweat, rot – there is no inconvenience to their bodies. And if an avatar has no orifices then sex in Second Life is safer than in real life – the user is “freed from the burden of the body.” Many criticisms have been levelled at Second Life for its high number of sex, porn and exotic dance Sims. Contemporary art critic and curator Domenico Quaranta said of in world existence, “life revolves around the banal repetition of real-life rituals (having sex, going dancing, and attending parties, openings and conferences) and the same principles: private property, wealth and consumption.” As the promotional video for dedicated cybersex virtual world “The Red Light Center” attests, “Be who you want to be…without the hassle”. Cybersex or ‘getting off online’, in Second Life is a form of immersive role play – a mixed reality happening in that it more often than not, one could imagine, elicits physical action in its users offline.
Whilst filming the “sex-scene” for this work my mind flickered between the ridiculousness of two digital bodies’ glitching against each other and the surreal feeling that behind that bunch of pixels a real person is operating and text chatting or, somewhat disturbingly, perhaps even masturbating. In the end I created two avatars – one my own and one an idealised male – and operated them both simultaneously using two computers to create the desired film output for projection. It was quite fitting as in the end, playing dolls, are we not just virtually fucking ourselves anyway? Can we really create intimacy in these new manufactured spaces?
When I first came to Bandra in the 80 s I was provided full fledged company accommodation so I spent time at Waterfield Road for sometime and than I was moved to another sprawling place at Linking Road called Aradhna close to Mr Rajesh Khannas office .
Than bought my own place at Danpada ..The riots 93 changed everything became a nomad in my own city living at various safe houses in Juhu rented houses at Pali Naka and Ranwar ...of all the places our stay at Ranwar was the best we moved out when Preity Zinta moved in ..
We finally came to stay at 21 De Monte House our first own house at Bandra and the germs of loving Bandra began to grow a d its been ten years staying in our next home at Bandra Reclamation.
And Bandra keeps growing on me the Bazar and all the bylanes of Chapel Road Waroda Road that I pass by on my walks ...I am 're discovering the beauty of Bandra and Bandra has to be felt deep inside your soul ...Bandra is an emotion fulfilling the peace within Bandra is my prayer it keeps my family blessed ...Bandra has not made me overtly Muslim simply in the way I think ..I am happy with my faith perhaps not as indomitable as yours I keep away from Mosques ..I find my God where I want to find him .
I am not come here to preach I have come here to do my time and go away ..I do not want to be you at all keep your religion your faith I can't walk your path perhaps my destination is not the Heaven where you will continue with your sexual gratifications nubile virgins are not for I will be happy to leave my heart my eyes my liver ticking away in another man's body ..yes i am a beliver of God and man I am happy in my heresy it leads me to the doors of my inner peace I could not be an atheist but I am happy of what is on my plate I think dear friend my 3 hour walk for me is a catharsis unlike your prayer .
You don't feed or clothe me you don't take care of my family we are happy and we wish your happiness too ...take care .
Happy Morning ...your words have given me the strength to walk from Bandra to Juhu to prove my point though my legs are hurting like mad
..I shall pray as I walk for over 4 hours or more .
“The capacity to deny oneself gratification cannot be confused with the denial of gratification imposed on us. The masses do not know the difference and therefore never cultivate a will of their own. They are subject to the pressures of the outside world, its punishments and validations. They confuse their own needs with what others tell them to need, and their personality is nullified in the process. That's what it means to be a sheep. And yet this is not as obvious as it seems. It may mean to work from home in a warm country while your neighbors party in the swimming pool. It also means having an entire beach to yourself while they are at work. Both situations demand that you question your sanity and challenge your character as a person. The masses will never do that. They are too weak.”
― Dan Desmarques
I had a very short window for exploration today or more like "my children were driving me crazy and I needed an hour to escape" and needed instant gratification when it came to getting out and adjusting my attitude. Within 10 minutes of leaving my door I was exploring this beautiful creek and the lush greenery. I tried many compositions and explored in my bogs but remained partial to this shot. The first of 25 or so images. Enjoy!
Two more shots from the end of the same pack of expired Polaroid 669 film shot on the Polaroid Automatic Land 420 camera. This film is great except for its severe loss of the yellow channel, which makes for soft tones in such "intense" colors as these hot pink tulips. The color of this film balanced them out perfectly!
In these two shots more than previous 420 images, I'd started to grow more accustomed to the split image/ghost image focusing system.
Polaroid Land 420
Expired Polaroid 669
Exposure dial set to +2 lighten
The study below was derived from facts uncovered while doing research
for the following Doctoral dissertation:
Light to the shadows of their mind:
Criminal tactics and strategies
Criminology Department Dept.
Chatwick University
**************************** Story ***************************
A full moon peeks through the heavy fall clouds, its rays transcending down and bathing in a soft light, the over grown, untended, remains of what once had been a proper English garden. Its soft rays catch the old moss roses, lilacs, and various other old growth flowers, their once still vibrant colours faded now that the fall is approaching.
But something still is vibrant here, brightly flashing a colourful fire as it moves along an old flagstone path.
Two feminine figures in fancy dress move guardedly along the path, gown and jewels are the source of the added fiery colours now caught by the full harvest moon’s rays. The rustle of satin is heard as a long, slinky gown sweeps along the leaf littered flagstone path at the spiked heels of its owners feet. Soft voices carry in murmurs as they walk, breaking up what, until a few minutes, ago had been the hushed silence brought upon by the notice of the pair by the gardens inhabitants.
The twosome finally reaches an old garden shed, its weather-beaten door half ajar, broken remnants of glass still hang in its front window; some ancient, rusty tools still lay up along its side wall. As they stand there the younger one suddenly jumps, giving a little gasp. What is it dear? her companion asks sweetly. She looks into her companions’ deep mesmerizing brown eyes, someone is moving along that path over there, on the other side of the pond. Mother said that no one should be outdoors on this side of town, she add, worry now creeping up on her. The older woman turns her head abruptly, I see him, you had better wait her, and I’ll make sure that whoever it is will not bother us.
A cop on his beat is seen walking along the outer path that lines the old garden leading to the manor house at the opposite end of what is now an inner city block. He jumps a little as a figure steps out of the mist that has now started to spread from a small pond the he is walking by.
Mae looks back at the garden shed that now sits back in the woods a little ways; her youthful companion’s colourful gown is vibrant against the faded walls of the shed. She turns away and looks at the copper walking towards her, unaware as of yet that he is no longer alone. Mae walks out of the mist and onto the sidewalk, noticing with satisfaction that she has startled him. She approaches and walks past the stern copper, as she does Mae tosses his way the sorta glance that she knew would pique the coppers natural distrust, making him turn to follow and see what mischief was going on!
Her long hair streaming down her back, creating a halo in the moonlit garden, her shimmering long jeweled earrings sway gently, watches as her companion walk up to the figure on the path. She is suddenly self-aware of how she is dressed, and how vulnerable they are out here alone, away from the bright lights and safety of the manor they had left some ten minutes ago. She hopes the figure isn’t someone nasty who will harm her friend. Her back is to the old door of the shed. The clouds again cover the moon. The young girl shivers, though it really is not that cold out. Suddenly a quick shadow emerges, a hand is clasped over her mouth, another grabs her by her silky waist, and she is pulled struggling into the darkness of the shed, vanishing from sight like the moon above her. Gradually the night voices of the garden return, chirping, hooting, and such. But as for the garden shed, sounds are no longer heard from within…..
What Led to This?
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It had been the boys who had first spotted the ladies in colorfully long shiny gowns. Those gowns fluidly rustling along shapely figures crossing the street leading to ornate front doors of the old Hampton East club Mansion. But it had been their “sparklers” the glittering jewelry the ladies all seemed to be temptingly showing off, that had made their mouths wolfishly drool.
But, what they had seen when stealing peeks through slits in a velvet curtained window, had made them run to find Mae. They then breathlessly babbled on about the halfcocked, half-baked scheme they had dreamed up. “Even the young’uns had jools” they had excitedly told Mae. She figured that most of it was probably paste, who wears anything of value on the eastside she thought to herself. But just a glimmer of a possibility began to take seed, as she maternally continued to listen to the excited pair.
Mae decided to humor the pair of excitable petty thieves, she owed them some favors anyway, and Mae hated leaving a debt unpaid. Besides, business had been slow lately; it seemed that no one well to do these days need their fortune read. So, for no rhythm or reason other than to see what all the chatter had been about, Mae crashed the upscale event. She slipped inside through the large matching oak doors, without even a second glance from the pensioner guard wearing a loose uniform “manning” the entrance.
Mae was amazed, even she could not have predicted the marvelous displays of wealth, so tantalizingly close, and yet seemingly so far out of reach. Even the dangling “jools” worn with careless abandon by the “Young’uns” mostly 18 through 20 year olds, with a few 16 and 17 year olds peppered in among the multitude of guests, appeared to be the real McCoy!
Mae was also surprised that she had been able to get this far, and so had not even begun to think of ways to profit from the situation. A condition that was going to have to be quickly rectified Mae told herself. Itching to somehow lay her greedy hands on some of the expensive jewels she observed being beckoningly worn by the female guests in attendance. Like the royal appearing lady she was just now walking past. She was in an elegantly flowing purple gown, dripping in gems, especially the small diamonds that were glistening on the thin tiara that held up the rich girl’s luxuriantly long hair.
All in all, Mae was glad she had positioned the boys to wait in the old garden shed, promising it would be worth their while. Mainly Mae had wanted to keep them out of mischief, too avoid having them upset her apple cart, and it appeared to have been a canny move on her part, as she surveyed a young lady with a long flowing mane of hair sweeping by, causing Mae to perk up with interest.
So, it was still with no real purpose in mind yet, that Mae had started to shadow the fetchingly gowned young lady of about nineteen who was timidly working her way , weaving in and out amongst the groups of happily chatting guests. Mae’s desire was a closer scrutiny of the prettily dressed young girl’s savory fiery ruby jewelry, so enticingly slippery upon her sweat glistened figure.
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Mae had always been attracted to rubies ever since a poshly dressed young mother had wandered into the carnival sideshow that Mae had been working some years prior. Mae had been the first to try for a share of the young Mother’s dazzling jewelry after spying her predicament from the interior of her tent.
The obviously well-to-do young Mother had been unwisely left alone to tend to a colicky baby. Mae had forced herself on the wretched Mother, using the pretense of giving a helping hand. Unscrupulously, Mae had seized the opportunity to check along the young Mother’s thick satiny clothes for any valuables.
Passing up on a temptingly lovely, lengthy dangling pendent, Mae’s fingers instead whisked down along the slick long sleeve of the young mother’s arm, as all her attention was being given to the thrashing infant. Passing over a thick braided gold bracelet, Mae’s fingers darted to the young ladies’ left ring finger.
The harried Mother struggled to keep a tight hold on the silken clad infant squirming in her mother’s satin covered arms. As the thrashing child bawled, the mother, finding herself being handicapped by the long sleeved slippery satin blouse she wearing was unable to really pay attention to anything else going on around her. Therefore, Mae was easily able to slip off the invitingly large ruby and diamond engagement ring from the mother’s ring finger, conveniently tear moistened from the squealing infants sobbing.
Ring in hand, Mae then finally listened to the mother’s pleas she didn’t need any help, quit caressing down her tingling attire, and retreated to the dark depths of her tent to watch the rest of the drama unfold.
By the time the young mother had gotten her squalling infant daughter to sleep she had fended off about a dozen additional hands offering to help. Mae had watched with professional interest as some of those hands had cunningly been searching the young lady for anything of value…
Mae observed that the distracted mother’s pendent had been nicked next, easily unclasped and slipped away from the ruffled throat of her glossy blouse! Then, as the mother was bent over the baby’s stroller, her long dangling earrings (the pair!) had been whisked away from out of her long mane of straight hair. Soon followed in quick session by the jeweled pin from her satin ascot, her wrists thick braided gold bracelet, a gold pinky ring, and the contents of her velvet purse. Even the mahogany rattle, and silver pacifier had been plucked from the now sleeping infants hand and mouth as her mother’s shiny back had been turned while searching about for the her babies vanished ermine blanket. All in all a very masterful and complete plucking of the erstwhile pretty hen and her downy chick, Mae thought smugly, for nothing else had been as grand as the ruby ring that Mae had slipped off first.
Now, there were still occasions where Mae dared to wear the magnificent ring, but tonight, had decidedly not been one of those occasions.
(Editor’s note:
The incident Mae instigated at the Carnival was not an original part of her story line
It was actually lifted by our author based upon similar experiences of one Lady Eileen St’D , Surry 1910)
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Mae plotted a way to at least grab this girl’s attention for a closer look, and so she moved in such a fashion to make it a possibility. At the same time the nineteen year old turned her head away, her long hair swirling to behind her back as someone called out a name. Mae broke off her approach and stood nearby, filing away the girls name for future reference. (It had always amazed Mae that just knowing a person’s name could break down barriers and inspire confidence when a stranger used it. ) Mae watched as an older model of the young girl approached, dressed in a glossy satin gown of mint green and laden with shimmering emerald encrusted jewels. She stuck a finger under the girls nose. Mae followed it, the gold ring she was wearing of a serpent encircling her finger with bright emerald eyes, mystifying her.
The lady lectured her daughter on wandering off , especially when it was only her and her Auntie there to watch her. Mae saw the mothers eyes travel towards the regal lady in the purple gown and tiara. Losing interest Mae wandered off, not caring to hear the rest. She knew a blind alley when she saw one. She paused; she also recognized other quarry when she saw it… A lady wearing a flowing gown of red silk was standing off to one side. Shy and uncomfortable, she was the epitome of a Wall-flower, one who attracted little or no attention, or luck, unless it was of the unfortunately bad kind. One who Mae knew she would have to meet.
Mae walked up to her, and began a conversation. It started out uncomfortably, but Mae soon won her over, enchanting the edgy lady enough so that she actually, with a little hesitation, allowed Mae to pick up her palm: believing it was with the the intention of reading her fortune. As the girl was told that fortune, the mousey miss was totally caught under the enchantment of Mae’s eyes and sing-song way of speaking. Mae could see that she had captured the girl’s imagination as she wove her fortune telling around her like a spider would weave its silky web. Then, with delight, Mae saw a special gleam in the girl’s eyes that she knew all too well. A look she had seen before in previous clients, one that told her they were no longer completely caring of what was going on around them.
Mae ever so slightly tightens her grip on the palm she held. Than, with baited breath, Mae began to work a jeweled ring over the knuckle of a warm slender finger , her practiced eye watching the girls face for any sign that she was catching on to what Mae was up to! Mae smiled broadly as she had a habit of doing when one of her wicked schemes was coming to fruitation. The girl smiled impishly in response, totally misinterpreting what that smile stood for. Never in her wildest dreams would she have guessed what this nice lady: with the deep black eyes from which she could not pull away from, who was so pleasantly stroking her palms while telling her fortune so enjoyably, was smiling about! Nor did she have the slightest of inklings that her Grandmother’s pretty ring was going to vanish!
Mae suddenly felt a noticeable vibe wash over her, and she chanced a look around her. Along a back wall was a row of palm trees, in-between them were a series of small stone benches. A solo figure was walking along them, a slinky, long soft gown, fell flowing down to her feet. The figure of the girl whose name Mae now knew. Mae turned her full attention back to the task at hand, easily maneuvering her captive audience so that the wall was now in her full view. Over a silken shoulder Mae watched as the young miss made her slinky way into a powder room, disappearing with a muted swishing of her gown. . Suddenly Mae had an epiphany, realizing exactly how to ensnare the pretty little miss into her web, at the center of which dangled the old garden shed where there were debts to be paid!
Mae finished her “business” with the shy wall-flower, convincing her to go one her way now that her fortunes were assured to be taking a turn for the “better.” She moved off happily enough, glad that she had met the charming stranger, falling for Mae’s story hook, line and ring less finger!
Keeping an eye on the retreating lady as she swept away, Mae headed towards a stone bench that sat near the back exit leading to the old garden, a stone bench that was in a direct line to the approach that the young miss should be taking on her journey back from the powder room. Mae waited, and when she saw her victim open the door, she buried her hands in her face and acted like she was sobbing, all the while watching the girls approach through a crack made by her fingers.
The girl stopped, You okay Ma’am, she asked with genuine, childishly innocent, concern ( as Mae had predicted), Mae jumped like she had not noticed the girl, and looking up into her face, she called the girl by name, starting to spin a new web of deceit. The young miss offered Mae her embroidered silk handkerchief, which she gladly accepted, holding the girls well ringed fingers for a second showing her gratification. While “drying”her eyes, Mae went into her story full throttle; she knew there would not be much time.
The young miss, nervously looked around, as she played with her shiny necklace, holding it with slender ringed fingers , as she innocently listened to the captivating dark haired stranger. Mae, for a second blinded as the diamonds and rubies flashed in the light, smiled inwardly. Overly pretty teenage girls were so naïve and easy to manipulate, she thought, while weaving another , totally different type of story, then the one she had fed the flowing red silked wall flower.
Mae accurately interpreted the reveries of the young miss now in Mae’s clutches. Now under different circumstances the tale that Mae fed the girl would have not gotten her anywhere. But the fact Mae knew the girls name, knew how to make use of the exchange she had witnessewd between the girl and her mother, and also possessed some knowledge of what attracts a young ladies fancy, the circumstances worked wonderfully in her favor. Then, add in Mae’s fortune telling abilities, and the poor, beautifully adorned soul never stood a chance
Mae hit her with all the talent of a quick change artist. And soon Mae was had lured the girl into following her out the exit and walk with her out into the darkened garden. It happened quite literally before the young thing could catch her breath, or clearly think things through. She had totally fallen for the fortune teller’s fairy tale, and now believed she was aiding this lady in distress, as she believed Mae to be. The young miss, more than a little bewildered, walked obediently alongside Mae, under her dark spell, as they made their way ever closer to a seemingly quiet old garden shed.
Mae looked at the girl now walking next to her, innocently unaware of the fact that she had been led out here for one reason only. Totally oblivious to the fact that she now presented nothing more than to the seemingly sweet lady walking next to her than the value of her expensively flowing gown, the bright jewels she was wearing, and the contents of the small purse dangling by her side. Mae smiled to herself, knowing that in the greenhouse her two muggers would miss nothing, the young girls jewels, , fat silken purse, even the gown would all fetch a sweet price when peddled.
It was when they had reached that shed, that Mae’s captive companion had spotted the figure walking along the path by the pond. A figure that Mae knew she would m have to take care of, else risk having her carefully wrought plan fall to pieces…
Led to This:
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Mae looked back and smiled smugly at the copper hot on her heels. Someone is going to be in trouble for leaving his post she thought. Just a couple more blocks should give them enough time in the greenhouse, and then Mae would easily give this flatfoot the slip. Mae’s mind went deliciously back to what should now be happening to the luckless lady in the long shiny gown, and how much Mae’s cut of the take would amount to. It was too bad she would miss the boys at work; Mae did so enjoy watching a good mugging.
As Mae happily led the harness bull away from the garden she marveled over her good fortune, wondering over how things had worked to her benefit. As she did she found herself walking along a block populated with small pubs. At the end of which lay an alley which Mae was going to use as passage to slip away from the copper. By then he would then be safely away from the old gardens. Mae would than circle back. She knew the boys would be finishing their job, but she did not want them to leave without her. She was going to take personal possession of the girls most valuable items. There was no way she was going to trust the two nimble headed crooks with not being cheated out of a fair price for the girl’s jewels.
It was as she reached the alleyway and looked back that she realized the copper was no longer tailing her. She swore to herself, what had happened? She cautiously backtracked, looking into the windows of the pubs as she passed. She stopped at one she knew, one appropriately, in Mae’s mind, named the Hook and Fiddle. It was their that she spotted her lost cop, cradling a beer, and sitting next to tall man at a back table.
Mae headed back on her way. She indistinctively knew that the copper would be occupied for a while. Mainly because she knew the cut of man he was sitting next to. Renauld, a man whose hands touched everything from the rackets, extortion, blackmail, down to trafficking and kidnapping, Renauld, to whom Mae owed some personal favors.
As Mae reached the sidewalk where she had first met the copper, she hastened her step. It would not be long before the girl’s bejeweled mother would be noticing her daughter’s absence…… Mae suddenly stopped, freezing in her tracks. A slow grin spread across her appealing face.
The epiphany that had made Mae stop to think contained the seed of a plan, that was in her opinion, brilliant. The mother should have noticed her daughters absence, and what if someone ,Mae, were to find the wealthy , overbearing lady, as she searched and helpfully divulged to her just what her daughter had been up to. Sneaking off into the garden with a young man, of all the nerve…why I would bet the pair of them is inside the old garden shed in the back snogging away as we speak.
Mae, with a quick stop over at the shed to check on things, hurried back to the manor. And best of all she thought, licking her lips in savoring anticipation as she fine-tuned the story she would use, best of all…, Ladies of that ilk always travel in pairs…
40 minutes later:
Three shadowy figures emerge from an old dilapidated garden shed. Two run off carrying small bundles under their arms. A third follows, taking a look back inside, closes the door and walks almost serenely off in the opposite direction. Something glistens from a finger as the moon once again peeks cautiously from the dark clouds overhead.
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Addendum est
In a smoke filled pub that he owns, a man, wicked, is puffing on a long black cigar. He is seated alone at the back table where he has been holding court that late evening.
The door opens and a female enters. Looking neither left nor right she heads directly to the man’s table.
Wotcher, he says, with perhaps a trace of compassion in an otherwise traditionally unemotionally stern deep voice. He spots the ring she is wearing, a gold serpent enter twined around her finger, its arrow shaped head home to a pair of flickering green emerald eyes.
What fresh wickedness have you been up to this evening he asks her expectantly? Adding, even you shouldn’t be sporting something like that around this area.
Mae meets his gaze, knowing full well she had taken a risk wearing the ring. But she knew that she had to make use of it to gain Renauld’s interest quickly, If game, he would not have much time…..
For if Renauld took the bait, not only would Mae be squared with Renauld, but also probably now be in his debt. For as much a Mae loathed to be in debt to someone, she loved to be owed one……
Courtesy of Chatwick University Archives
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