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The history of Dublin's Hell-Fire Club, Rathfarnham. Overlooking Dublin city from the south west, at an altitude of 383m (1264ft), is a foreboding ruined hunting lodge, marked on Ordnance Survey maps as the 'Hell-Fire Club'. Current urban lore insists on telling us that it was - and still is - a site commonly used for the practice of 'Satanism' and other occult activities, and that the Devil himself made a brief appearance there at some unspecified time in the past. In a story similar to the one attached to Loftus Hall (a haunted house on the Hook Peninsula), a mysterious stranger seeks shelter on a stormy night, and a card game ensues. A member of the household drops a card, and sees that below the table, the otherwise affable and charming visitor has a cloven hoof. His or her screams made the Devil 'aware of her discovery, and he at once vanished in a thunder-clap leaving a brimstone smell behind him' (Seymour and Neligan).
Fotos para el Web Magazine The Concert in Concert (www.theconcertinconcert.com/) Kreator + Arch Enemy + Hell + Drone - La Riviera - Madrid - 29/11/14
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Hells Gate is an abrupt narrowing of British Columbia's Fraser River, located immediately downstream of Boston Bar in the southern Fraser Canyon. The towering rock walls of the Fraser River plunge toward each other forcing the waters through a passage only 35 metres (115 ft) wide.
Fuck Moxie and her impossible Underdome.
In a fit rage the other night I snatched my Borderlands disc from the console.
And because of my psychotic lapse I now have a corrupted save/data file.
My Level 41 Soldier is officially discharged.
And all my ramped up mega-guns, special regeneration shields,
skill points and unlimited ammo that I busted my ass to get last year
are all lost down the toilet.
Because I snapped--and snatched.
I'm still in a little shock, actually, as I have never lost a save file/game data before.
Oh well. At least I got to complete Jakobs Cove before this terminal mishap.
I don't like to be a quitter but
I should have dumped Moxie's slutty ass
after I couldn't even make it out of the infernal Hell-Burbia arena
(Out of a billion tries, only once did I make it to the Boss wave of the 5th Round).
I should have skipped to The Secret Armory of General Knox.
I should have taken ten deep breaths
before I screamed like a rabid beast and furiously punched the console eject button
and snatched out the disc.
I should stop playing video games before I have a heart attack or stroke--
or swallow my tongue in a complete and utter rage.
Should have
should have
should have.
----
Should have enough money to buy Borderlands 2 next weekend.
Vincent
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This is what I imagine office hell to be like. You walk in every day, feeling like you are one of hundreds of other rats working all around you. The words rat race get a whole new dimension in this building. Please avoid this in your life for the sake of your sanity! ;-)
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On the banks of the Snake River in Hells Canyon, SE Washington. Photographed on April 26, 2015 for Worldwide Pinhole Photography Day using a Voightlander 116 roll film camera converted to a pinhole. The film is expired mystery 616 film exposed at 12 ISO. The pinhole is 0.5mm diameter, I had it set at about a 135mm focal length which gave me f/270. Semi-Stand developed in Adonal (Rodinal) 1-100 for 1 hour.
Much of Hells Kitchen still consists of low-rise tenement buildings. This is as a result of the "Special Clinton District" regulation established by the City of New York in 1972.
The Special Clinton District consists of three distinct regulations:
1) Preservation Area: The area from 43rd to 56th Streets between 8th and 10th Avenues must consist of residential buildings less than 7 stories tall. (What you see above)
2) Perimeter Area: 8th Ave between 42nd & 57th St allowed for larger residential and commercial buildings
3) Mixed Use Area: 10th and 11th Avenues between 43rd and 50th Streets for mixed residential and manufacturing buildings.
After September 11th, Mayor Bloomberg relaxed many building regulations which led to a building boom in Hells Kitchen. Many new buildings are currently in construction or have been built in what used to be the preservation area.
so this is for a youth sermon the week of Halloween. Does it read scary as hell to you? How else could i lay out the text?
Nothing like scaring students into a personal relationship with Christ. pfft.
EDIT - Updated version is here www.flickr.com/photos/24436291@N03/2945207616/in/pool-cfcc
I'll admit it. Sometimes I send off for those glossy magazines and brochures of exotic places just so I can see everywhere I could be and everywhere I'm not. At first, it was a little bit masochistic. I'd flip through those arid deserts and humid jungles and crowded, jumbled streets and I'd compare. Those bleak landscapes to my almost bleaker suburbia. I'd look at all the places I wanted desperately to be at tht moment. I let the longing, sweet and bitter, well up in me until I had my car keys in hand and aa.com at my fingertips. I'd find myself looking up into the blue cloudless skies and imagined myself soaring though them to there, somewhere, anywhere but here. I let the desire to escape overwhelm the destination. I wanted to travel for so many of the wrong reasons.
But I've figured out the problem. When I looked at those pictures, I was seeing nothing more than impossibilities. I look at them now, or at least try to, and see the possibilities in them. I spread those same distant photographs out on my bedspread. But now my fingers don't stroke the glossy fingers, but the broad elephant leaves of the jungle. I nestle myself deep into the roots of the ancient gods of the jungle and let them wrap their arms around me so tight, a mother's embrace that's held so much life within it's grasp before, so many before me and so many after. And those gnarled hands that twist and entertwine above me, protectng and loving, until I'm underwater in this emerald world. And I lay back and watch that kalediscope sky above me, those shifting shades and shapes of green that shake and shimmer in the windy summer day and I feel the kalediscope world beneath me, the dying leaves and sprouts pushing up around me, the life that springs from death and the death that springs from life, a melding of the very worst and best forces of nature until the two are nearly indistinguishable. A howler monkey cries off in the distant. The ants go marching two-by-two carrying the cookie-cutter crumbs of the gods on their backs, but they'll bring the giants tumbling down and the fierce cry of the howler will fall silent all through the patience of jigsaw teeth. This world will rebuild and destroy itself in ture without the touch of human hands. And it makes me feel so large and so small. But my size doesn't matter. My name, my face, my history doesn't matter. My very essence loses some essential worth. Because none of it matters when I am apart of it all and all is apart of me.
So when I take those glossy magazines in my hands and run my fingers down the faraway lands. I'm not merely escaping where I am, but I'm bringing a bit of that jungle with me. The shadow tread of a panther that prowls in my step. Or that fierce game of predator and prey in my eyes. Or maybe new eyes all together. Because when I am in those distant forests, its very life is in me. I am so much greater than the sum of my parts. And even the ebb and flow of suburbia can't shake that from my bones.
Welcome to the Gates of Hell
The sun was out and it was a beautiful evening to go for a drive. Evan & Victoria took me on a scenic drive to Hell...
And he put on the helmet, and he went down the dancefloor, and he was hell bent on making it happen.
Callout is a constant, ongoing event going on with the street dancing communities of Perth, Australia, and they're now on their 10th!
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Hell Valley is an aptly named area with volcanic activities ranging from sulphuric creeks to steam vents and pits filled with boiling mud.
CSX has just interchanged with the NY&A at Fresh Pond, and is now headed back "home" to Oak Point. The train is seen here crossing the famous Hell Gate Bridge.
The hell cat design was the cumulative result of many different things. The body was something that has been on my mind for some time, and in many ways is the refined and distilled version of my very first guitar. It is actually closer to the sketch that inspired my first build than my first build ended up being.
I first sketched up the unique bridge shape this time last year. It was originally intended to be used for a fanned fret 8 string I was designing but the customer ended up backing out. I really liked the general shape though, so I changed for use on a mono scale six string.
The top is carved buckeye burl. The tailpiece, bridge, pickup covers, knobs, and truss rod cover (not in the photos) are made from claro walnut burl. the body has a soft maple core, with eastern black walnut wings. The neck is curly eastern black walnut. Headstock veneer is buckeye burl front and back. Peters logo is in copper, and the nut is buffalo horn. The fretboard is EIR with abalone set in copper. All the binding is curly maple.
It has a master volume, master tone, 3 way selector, and series/single/parallel switch for each pup. Pickups are GFS soapbar 180’s and tuners are grover locking.
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