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IC photo of Aerilin
I'm hacking and slashing you bitches
Took a sip of cyanide, but I'm living
Damn
What will it take to get rid of me?
When I die, don't pretend you a friend of me, yah
I'm hacking and slashing you bitches
A view across Hackness Hall and grounds with the spire of St Peter's church and up Lowdale.
This is a favourite area of mine to walk in the autumn as the deciduous tree's take on some great colours before they start to drop their leaves.The low light over the top of Lowdale still lights the tree tops on the hillside.A couple of the later photo's from here had better colour in the sky but i liked the composition of this one better
قإأنون الهكــر لإأيع‘ـرف الرح‘ـمه ^_*
تتعب لو مع قرووب رووت تيييم تلعب ^_*
لؤؤؤؤؤؤؤؤؤؤؤؤؤؤؤؤؤؤؤؤؤؤؤل ^_*
مع تحيإأت
إأسيـر ع‘ـيؤنهإأ
رؤؤت تييم
qtl@hotmail.es
I took a blade to my JBL headphones today so that the plug would fit in the iPhone. Amazingly it worked.
It was one of those issues that had been troubling me from time to time. Not exactly burning a hole in the vacant space between my ears, but just now and again poking its head above the parapet. Quite how much difference it would really make was uncertain, but anything that helped was worth trying.
In all but a few respects, the tripod I’ve been using for the last five years does exactly what I need it to. It’s sturdy, made of seemingly indestructible carbon fibre and fully extended, is slightly taller than me - although that last point is hardly a towering achievement. Ideally I’d prefer it if the centre column could be removed so I could bring it closer to the ground at times, but all in all, it’s a good tripod from a reputable manufacturer. It’s been to Iceland twice, and it’s held firm in many an Atlantic gale down here in Cornwall. Admittedly one of the lower leg sections likes to absent itself from the main body on occasion, but a small socket spanner and a few choice swear words always resolves the matter.
But what would, or should make it an even more robust ally in those heavy conditions seems to me an odd omission by the manufacturer. One that for some time had me seriously considering another significant investment in a new tripod. Why, for a piece of kit that’s clearly been designed for outdoor use did they not include a set of spikes? And although they are available as optional extras, the compatibility chart didn’t even list my model. But we’ve been through a lot together and I was sure there was a hack that would resolve the matter. One set that did look as if they might just about fit cost sixty quid, and were out of stock with most online providers. So I improvised, bought a set that was slightly too large at thirty quid and set about finding something to make them fit. A rubber flange in each gap if you will. A few sections from an old watch strap did the job, and although if I really pulled hard they would come free, they seemed to be fairly securely attached. Maybe I should refit them with hefty dollops of superglue. Added insurance and all that.
So now my tripod has spikes. And if I need them retracted, I simply screw out the feet and then there’s no danger of scratching anyone’s parquet floor. Not that I know anyone posh enough to have a parquet floor. And then I can screw them back in again to ward off approaching brigands. Obviously I would need to invite said wrongdoer to wait for approximately thirty seconds before attacking me while I prepare the tripod for means of self defence, but once ready, I feel confident that a small delinquent rabble would be kept at bay by an enraged middle age tog welding a three pronged spear at them.
Once assembled, it seemed rude not to give my adaptation a spin and take it somewhere I could look at the sea, and both Ali and I had a fancy for the cliffs above Porthtowan. After a week of rain, what weather forecasters euphemistically refer to as “quiet conditions,” had arrived. Maybe not the sort of feistyness to really put those spikes through their paces, but we just wanted to see the ocean. And so she went over the cliffs, armed with a rabbit obsessed spaniel, and I went for one of my favourite winter views, armed with lots of warm layers and a newly weaponised large camera accessory.
I didn’t need to ward off any threatening types. The only person who did approach me was a young woman, looking distinctly chilly in her yellow dungarees and accompanied by a large dog. She asked me what time it was and said she’d spotted a seal in the water. We agreed it was a lovely afternoon. I also discovered a track that led to steps down the cliffs I’d never seen before. I gave it a try and found a slightly lower vantage point, but when I descended further, I found the steps ran out at a narrow shelf with a twelve foot drop onto the rocks below. A scramble looked possible, but as the rocks are accessible from the beach anyway, there seemed little point. At least it’s an escape route if I read the surfline app back to front and get cut off by the tide. There are quite a few of these almost invisible tracks, well used by the surfing community. You just need to know where they are in the event of not wanting to swim to safety.
The lovely afternoon brought a suitably glowing sunset, the first of three consecutive glorious golden hours that will make their way into these pages in due course. Porthtowan, a place I’ve often overlooked, really earns its stripes at this time of year when everything is reduced to black and gold, the colours of our wild and windswept county. Not so windswept today, so the jury is still out on the spikes, but they’ll surely be tested more rigorously soon. And so far, all three of them are still where I put them. As long as I keep remembering to check they’re all still there each time I move the tripod, everything will be just fine.
Blog Featuring: #Foxy, Vale Koer, Kustom9, Kraftwork, uber, OLQINU, PocketGacha, FAENZO X THE OAK,#Adored, random Matter,
andesugarplum.wordpress.com/2017/12/19/hackers
see other pictures to see more
Taken in the mid 1990s, Hack Mill in Wotton-under-Edge was demolished not long afterwards. The mill can be traced back on this site to the sixteenth century. It was situated at the end of Water Lane.
Hack, buggy, van.....whatever tickles your fancy. Providence and Worcester train CT-1 is about to tack the former NYC caboose on the hind end of their train in Wethersfield, CT before heading South back to Middletown. CSO 21226 was on loan to the P&W for making the shove over the swing bridge between Middletown and Portland, and sometimes the crew would take it for a ride elsewhere. Not too often theirs a hack in front AND behind the camera.
Copywrite Thomas Schubert 2022
Created for this week's theme "Motion blur" on Moncton Photography. Royalty free music from Stockmusic.net: "Fell Out Of The Sky (Andy's Liquid Mix w/stems)" by stellarartwars
Originally I was going to call this one "In case of fire: Git commit. Git push. Git out" -- true geeks will get that.
Nice sunset over the White Mountains of NH the other night as viewed from Hacker Hill in Casco, ME. The days are getting A LOT shorter!
Áp lực đủ mọi chuyện .Street nặng . Mất y!h lên zing thì thấy cái không nên thấy . Cf thì gặp người củ đũ thứ áp lực trời ạh .Sao toàn gặp chuyện gì không vậy trời =.=
Ai qen thì add y!h peng0_ieu_nhoknun nhe .y!h kia bị hack r` :(
I really like theese textures T^T
-Saraan Su'um ENB WIP by Machiimachii (With Gruntworks custom settings)
Thanks to everyone who has viewed and commented on my photo's
Please don't use this image on websites, blogs or other media without my explicit permission. © all rights reserved.
a while ago,...
her: how's your day been?
me: I spent the day alone,... I'm exhausted.
I hate when she falls asleep.
You can only put off certain conversations for so long,... and when she falls asleep is when I have no choice but to talk to myself.
Which has been often this year, because you know,.. fucking time zones,...
And myself is like that alcoholic friend everyone has,... they know they have a problem, they come talk to you about it, you think you've made them see the light so you part ways feeling good,... only to watch them walk straight into the nearest bar.
And you can dodge their calls, say you're busy, but you know that you need to have that talk again. It stops being you trying to help them, but becomes you sorting your own shit out while you talk to them. It's addictive, you need that time together, with your other self.
Some people call it alone time or being solitary.
It doesn't feel like that to me. It's the noisiest time I know.
But they are the best brainstorming partners you have, you go round in circles, start yelling "you hack!" at each other, coming together, then swearing at each other's unfathomable stupidity again,...
Ultimately either you or other you or other other you has an idea and the rest are just too exhausted or annoyed to care anymore,...
And that's how things get done. In these parts at least anyway.
I don't remember if I took my medication today.
The near wagon is one that I have shot before. It is a Hack Passenger Wagon c. 1862 that is in the Corpus Christi Museum of Science and History collection. It was manufactured by Abbot-Downing Co. Concord, New Hampshire
This four passenger wagon is the smallest of the Hack Passenger Wagons. The lighter versions of the East were called Concord Coaches. The heavy version, suited for the rough conditions of the West, was often called a "mud wagon" or "the poor man's Concord". The leather suspension system gave a ride that was smooth by the day's standards.
This coach belonged to Petra Vela Kenedy, wife of Mifflin Kenedy. Mr. Kenedy built a ranching empire in South Texas in the mid-19th century. By the time of Mrs. Kenedy's death in 1885, the ranch comprised 390,000 acres. This coach was most likely the preferred mode of transportation for Mrs. Kenedy, who traveled frequently from the La Parra Ranch in Kenedy County to the Kenedy home on the bluff in Corpus Christi, Texas.
For more information on the Museum: