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via Instagram kotaserang.net/1RbHmBy, Peace is seeing a sunset and knowing who to thanks~ #Repost Photo by : @vitoglu #tundaisland #pulautunda #karangantu #serang #sea #sunset #beach #instagram #wisata #pariwisata #kotaserang #Banten #Indonesia. kotaserang.net/1BFtNAa , January 07, 2016 at 06:20PM Peace is seeing a sunset and knowing who to thanks~ #Repost Photo by : @vitoglu #tundaisland #pulautunda #karangantu #serang #sea #sunset #beach #instagram #wisata #pariwisata #kotaserang #Banten #Indonesia. kotaserang.net/1BFtNAa #KotaSerangDotCom #KotaSerang Original Post: kotaserang.net/1RbHmBy Link Gambar: kotaserang.net/1O6A3HJ By: www.kotaserang.net
Knowing that Alina would be tired & hungry when she returned from her Time Travels, Rosie has left some nice crunchy bread rolls and lovely cheese out for her.
But Alina is wondering what the funny smell is ... has someone left a pile of old sports shoes somewhere ?!?
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Ed: It is the Époisses cheese that Alina can smell (and luckily, you can not!) Époisses is a pungent, very soft cows-milk cheese with a 'washed rind' (washed in brine and marc de Bourgogne). Napoleon was a particular fan of the cheese & there is an urban myth that it is not allowed on the Paris Metro system because of the smell. I really like Époisses (sometimes called Époisses de Bourgogne) and I'm not going to tell you how much this small round of it cost here in Australia !!!
We visited the little town of Époisses in 2007 - and I'll post a photo of the actual tower that is drawn on the box.
Knowing full well that lake Glenmaggie is only at around 30% capacity at the moment I knew I wouldn't get the compositions with water around the trees etc that I normally chase at this location. It did however enable me to drive to trees normally up to 4-5ft under water at their base when the lake is full.
I went on a girl date with Syrup to the botanic gardens and AGNSW today, we were so exhausted from giggling, eating, dolly time, and gossiping!!
The Knowing the Fish Pavilion in named for a conversation between two philosophers about how happy are the fish they are contemplating. Melody draws in the nature of the garden in contemplation. This image is two photos stitched together.
As we began our Exodus from Black Rock City I knew our journey was coming to an end, but my life was really just beginning. Five days earlier we had traveled this same dusty road reading the Burma-Shave-style signs on the way in, that were designed to get the cars to slow down and get you jazzed for the entry. I snapped one of these signs while we were stopped as the sky was opening up the most amazing sunset.
It took us 3 hours to get back to Reno including about half that time in line before the gate, but the line was amazing. Six lanes deep of people partying and carrying the spirit of Burning Man with them—sharing food and drink, pushing their cars to save petrol, playing Frisbee, and getting out and meeting other Burners. No one really wanted it to be over, but for the first time I felt excited for what the future might hold.
Knowing the hummingbirds will be leaving soon, I spent the major part of this past weekend taking an many pictures as possible. It really helped that they have taken a liking to the camelia bush just outside my kitchen window.
As a result, I now have a LOT of them to post over the next few days. Fair warning.
At first I thought this hummingbird was striking a threatening pose due to another hummingbird approaching, but I soon observed that whenever another one came near this one took off chasing it away.
Having seen this happen nearly a dozen times, it would seem this pose is just stretching - which I also saw this one do a couple of times.
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Please note - There is a series of photos attached to this main shot, but Flickr's new changes don't let you see them because the comments start on the last page and not the first page.
The Asahiflex Test experience
Asahi Opt. Co. Asahiflex IIb (1954 second model) + Takumar 58mm f2.4
Lomochrome Purple XR 100-400
Fuji Color Service Low-res scan from negative
Let there be light. Shinjuku, Tokyo, Japan. © Michele Marcolin, 2022.
Some of weeks ago (during my banning from FB), while waiting for the slide film of a Miranda S Test to be processed, I spotted a LOMOChrome Purple film, in a photo shop I check out frequently. And I couldn't resist the curiosity, being the results so reminiscent of infra-red and cross processed film (which I like so much). So I decided to give it a try. However, not being sure if everything was fine with the Miranda (which turned out with a cut curtain-later repaired), I was left only with the old Asahiflex IIb that came with the Takumar 58mm f2.4, quite some time ago. A camera so far I used only for... 'decoration'. Fortunately it worked pretty well - marvels of the golden age of camera making - and I was quite satisfied with the results, considering that I have not been shooting color film (and in complete manual mode) since years. I am particularly happy with the results of the precious chrome Takumar 83mm f1.9. A very beautiful portrait lens, I have to say. Will post some later.
I still need to understand well, when and how the film reacts better to produce purples and greens, but I really like the results. A bit of grain here is the fault also of the low-res film scan: the prints are way smoother. Unfortunately the shop refuses to do high-res scan to avoid losing printing customers, knowing that digitally reproducing negatives is not that straightforward task you can do with one single command or in batch. But, don't worry... we have also Pentax Film Duplicator.
Second model Asahiflex II b starts around noº 52117.
Differences:
- vertical lug for straps.
- bold arrow on rewind knob
- smaller AOCO logo, slimmer type
- filled triangles instead of arrows
- different design on shutter time dial
- flash sync X in red
- bold type arrow on winder in bold type
- logo on the back removed.
Heaven fell on herself tonight
As the devil met me in the wishing well
And in that moment I found myself knowing
That in the end it's just about you and me
Nothing smaller or larger
Though dragons are good for the soul
Nothing can be better than baring yourself for another...
Open for scrutiny, ridicule, and indulgence
Therein lies the balls, and the mind, and the heart...
As fear is truly the Mindkiller...
When nothing is left...
Everything is gained...
You see I wish I was a poet
But I know as we go round and round
Though endings are never ever happy
It's the happy moments along the way
That in the end
Make it...ok...
"Nobody"
lyrics by Five for Fighting
German postcard by F.J. Rüdel, Filmpostkartenverlag, Hamburg-Bergedorf, no. 189dpa. Photo: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.
With his natural charm and knowing smile, Clark Gable (1901-1959) was 'The King of Hollywood' during the 1930s. He often portrayed down-to-earth, bravado characters with a carefree attitude, and was seen as the epitome of masculinity. Gable won an Academy Award for Best Actor for It Happened One Night (1934), and was nominated for leading roles in Mutiny on the Bounty (1935) and for his best-known role as Rhett Butler in Gone with the Wind (1939).
William Clark Gable was born in 1901 in Cadiz, Ohio, to Adeline (Hershelman) and William Henry Gable, an oil-well driller. He was of German, Irish, and Swiss-German descent. When he was seven months old, his mother died, and his father sent him to live with his maternal aunt and uncle in Pennsylvania, where he stayed until he was two. His father then returned to take him back to Cadiz. At 16, he quit high school, went to work in an Akron, Ohio, tire factory, and decided to become an actor after seeing the play The Bird of Paradise. He toured in stock companies, worked oil fields and sold ties. His acting coach Josephine Dillon, 15 years his senior, paid for him to have his teeth repaired and his hair styled. She also trained him to lower his voice and attain better body posture, attributes that that were instrumental in contributing to his later success and eventual iconic status. In 1924, with Dillon's financing, they went to Hollywood, where she became Gable's manager and first wife. He appeared as an extra in silent films between 1924 and 1926. However, he was not offered any major film roles, so he returned to the stage. While Gable acted on stage, he became a lifelong friend of Lionel Barrymore. He moved to New York City, where Dillon sought work for him on Broadway. He received good reviews in Machinal (1928). He gave an impressive appearance as the seething and desperate character Killer Mears in the Los Angeles stage production of The Last Mile. In 1930, Gable and Dillon divorced and a year later, he married Maria Langham (a.k.a. Maria Franklin Gable), also about 17 years older than him. After several failed screen tests, Gable was signed in 1930 by MGM's Irving Thalberg. He made his talking film debut as an archetypal villain named Brett in the Western The Painted Desert (Howard Higgin, 1931), starring William Boyd. Joan Crawford asked for him as co-star in Dance, Fools, Dance (Harry Beaumont, 1931) and the public loved him manhandling Norma Shearer in A Free Soul (Clarence Brown, 1931) the same year. His unshaven lovemaking with bra-less Jean Harlow in Red Dust (Victor Fleming, 1932) made him MGM's most important star. His acting career then flourished. At one point, he refused an assignment, and the studio punished him by loaning him out to (at the time) low-rent Columbia Pictures, which put him in Frank Capra's It Happened One Night (1934) opposite Claudette Colbert. He won an Academy Award for his performance. The next year saw a starring role in Call of the Wild (William A. Wellman, 1935) with Loretta Young, with whom he had an affair (resulting in the birth of a daughter, Judy Lewis). He returned to far more substantial roles at MGM, such as Fletcher Christian in Mutiny on the Bounty (Frank Lloyd, 1935) and Rhett Butler in the Oscar-winning epic Gone with the Wind (Victor Fleming, 1939).
After divorcing Maria Langham, Clark Gable married Carole Lombard in 1939, but tragedy struck in January 1942 when the plane in which Carole and her mother were flying crashed into Table Rock Mountain, Nevada, killing them both. A grief-stricken Gable joined the US Army Air Force and was off the screen for three years, flying combat missions in Europe. When he returned the studio regarded his salary as excessive and did not renew his contract. He freelanced, but his films didn't do well at the box office. He starred in such films as The Hucksters (Jack Conway, 1947) and Homecoming (Mervyn LeRoy, 1948) with Lana Turner. He married Sylvia Ashley, the widow of Douglas Fairbanks, in 1949. Unfortunately this marriage was short-lived and they divorced in 1952. In July 1955 he married a former sweetheart, Kathleen Williams Spreckles (a.k.a. Kay Williams) and became stepfather to her two children, Joan and Adolph ("Bunker") Spreckels III. In 1959, Gable became a grandfather when Judy Lewis, his daughter with Loretta Young, gave birth to a daughter, Maria. In 1960, Gable's wife Kay discovered that she was expecting their first child. In early November 1960, he had just completed filming The Misfits (John Huston, 1961) with Marilyn Monroe, when he suffered a heart attack, and died later that month. Gable was buried shortly afterwards in the shrine that he had built for Carole Lombard and her mother when they died, at Forest Lawn Cemetery. In March 1961, Kay Gable gave birth to a boy, whom she named John Clark Gable after his father.
Sources Ed Stephan (IMDb), Wikipedia and IMDb.
And, please check out our blog European Film Star Postcards.
Bella shares a blanket on a sleepy Saturday afternoon. Many times, when she's looking for attention, she'll give us a head butt. I think you can tell by this picture that Bella knows that she's loved.
Knowing different kind of fire types helps u to decide wich one u can use in each Situation or Environment.
#bushcraft #wildcamping #camping #nature #instalike #camp #instanature #vscogood #outdoors #adventure #hiking #forest #modernoutdoorsman #wood #liveauthentic #mothernature #naturelover #backpacking #nature_seekers #wilderness #getoutside #survival #wildernessculture #campvibes #neverstopexploring #menofoutdoors #bluebirdoutdoors
#woodcraft
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Let's show the world we can dance... Bad enough to strut our stuff... The music gives us a chance... We do more out on the floor
Groovin' loose or heart to heart... We put in motion every single part... Funky sounds wall to wall
We're bumpin' booties havin us a ball y'all
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.......***** All images are copyrighted by their respective authors ......
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.....item 1a).... youtube video ... Peaches & Herb - Shake Your Groove Thing(extended version) ...
6:42 minutes ...
www.youtube.com/watch?v=45GTRrz2L6s
fab70smusic
Published on Mar 2, 2012
UK hit 1979 peaked at No.26, 10 weeks on chart
Category
Music
License
Standard YouTube License
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.....item 1b)....song lyrics ... LyricsMode.com ... www.lyricsmode.com ...
Peaches And Herb
Shake Your Groove Thing lyrics
www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/p/peaches_and_herb/shake_your_g...
Shake it, shake it
Shake your groove thing
Shake your groove thing, yeah yeah
Show 'em how we do it now
Shake your groove thing
Shake your groove thing, yeah yeah
Show 'em how we do it now
Show 'em how we do it now
Let's show the world we can dance
Bad enough to strut our stuff
The music gives us a chance
We do more out on the floor
Groovin' loose or heart to heart
We put in motion every single part
Funky sounds wall to wall
We're bumpin' booties havin us a ball y'all
Shake your groove thing
Shake your groove thing, yeah yeah
Show 'em how we do it now
(repeat)
We've got the rhythm tonight
All the rest know we're the best
Our shadows flash in moonlight
Twistin', turnin', we keep burnin'
Shake it high or shake it low
We take our bodies where they want to go
Feel that beat, never stop
Or hold me tight, spin me like a top
Shake your groove thing
Shake your groove thing, yeah yeah
Show 'em how we do it now
(repeat)
There's nothing more that I like to do
Than take the floor and dance with you
Keep dancin'
Let's keep dancin'
Shake it, shake it
Shake it, shake it
Groovin' loose or heart to heart
We put in motion every single part
Funky sounds wall to wall
We're bumpin' booties havin us a ball y'all
Shake your groove thing
Shake your groove thing, yeah yeah
Show 'em how we do it now
Shake your groove thing
Shake your groove thing, yeah yeah
Show 'em how we do it now, yeah
Shake it
Show 'em how we do it now, yeah
Shake it, shake it
More lyrics: www.lyricsmode.com/lyrics/p/peaches_and_herb/#share
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......item 2).... Snapchat, solipsism and stupid cups
... FSU News ... www.fsunews.com/ ...
Jun. 26, 2013 |
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img code photo ... What’s the better experience
cmsimg.tallahassee.com/apps/pbcsi.dll/bilde?Site=CD&D...
What’s the better experience: playing with the dog or snapping the dog to share with friends? / Perry Kostidakis / FSView
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FILED UNDER
FSU News
FSU News Views
www.fsunews.com/article/20130627/FSVIEW03/130626021/Snapc...
Phones don’t belong in cups. Tables, desks, car cupholders, possibly pockets (still haven’t figured that one out, have we science?) are all suitable locations for phones. Cups, not so much. However, that is where I discovered mine after a lovely night out in Orlando’s finest establishment. If you desire an image of this bar, think Potbelly’s, but replace the FSU athletes with the broiest of bros and picture it somehow more trashy. It was lovely.
Anyway, the phone in the cup problem is the point here. I’d like to imagine my phone wanted a cozy cover to sleep away the night’s fun dreaming of future Snapchat selfies and inappropriate late-night texting conversations…but no, this is a nightmare where the camera lens is cloudy with moisture and the shutter refuses to open on my iPhone. All is for the worst in the worst of all possible worlds.
The moisture’s bastardly tentacles had only seeped its way to infiltrating my phone and corresponding apps, which meant one thing in particular—no more Snapchat. Okay, full disclosure: I’m sort of a Snapchat whore. I can’t explain its addictive quality, but I now I was like a meth addict on the Heisenberg Blue special the first time I snapped. Okay fuller disclosure: I’m a mass Snapchatter. When I made videos of myself singing Beyonce’s “Ego (Remix) with Kanye West in the mirror without a shirt, sunglasses off, wearing a participation medal from an adventure race like it was my Jesus piece, I felt compelled to share with everyone. I had to give the people what they wanted. They just didn’t know they had wanted that.
But this “no camera” problem posed a particularly difficult situation: I was headed to Itchetucknee Springs with my high school friends. Not to get overly sentimental or anything (a.k.a. that’s exactly what I’m about to do), but, as incoming seniors, this was sort of a last hurrah for us. Of course I wanted some photos to keep (and upload on Facebook, Instagram, Twitter and to Snapchat obviously).
While on our car ride to Itchetucknee, a couple of my friends started Snapchatting my caravan, almost as a direct taunt to me. They knew my addiction, they knew my current withdrawals, yet they flashed that wondrous white ghost dancing in front of the kaleidoscope-flashing colors. I missed my ghost friend.
But then my buddy Tom launched an interesting quandary at us: “Speaking as someone looking from the outside on this, isn’t Snapchat kind of strange? Photos are supposed to capture memories, or at least they used to, but Snapchats disappear after like five seconds.”
And he’s right—Snapchat, once you take a step back from the narcissistic, instant gratification of it, is pretty dumb. Some joke Snapchat was created for nude pics sent, but that would entail somebody sending a single Snapchat to a specific person. Unless it’s a response, that never happens. When it comes to sending out those Mission Impossible, self-destructive photos, everyone exists on different tiers, at least that’s how it is for me. It’s Google-Plus circles, except people actually use them.
1) Elite Tier:
Reserved for childhood best friends and possible/current love interests. If we’re dating, you’re receiving every, single Snapchat I send. You will not forget my bushy face.
2) Buddy Tier:
Reserved for people I regularly hang out with and know of my daily adventures (a.k.a. what I read on the Internet that day). These friends receive a large majority of Snapchats, but if things get too personal or emotional, I’m leaving them out of it.
3) Acquaintance Tier:
Reserved for those friends only tolerable for a day or two every three weeks. You’re receiving this Snapchat from me because I need attention and if my buddies or girlfriend don’t respond, you’re my last hope to stroke my ego. Please don’t let me down.
4) D-Tier:
Otherwise known as #drunj tier. If you are in my Snapchat contact list, and I have had a few, I’m sending you some pictures. I don’t care if you respond or not, because we’re not really friends, but it would be a delightful surprise if you did, like discovering an extra jelly bean in what was believed to be an empty bag.
Regardless of where you exist on those planes, each Snapchat isn’t sent to you for memory’s sake. People may have the ability to save by screenshotting, but social media has fundamentally changed our purpose for personal photography (professional photography’s intention has stayed relatively the same). We don’t snapshot our lives to remember later; we snapshot to share with others. Whether this sharing of pictures is more designated so those “friends” who see them will like those pictures on Facebook, or favorite them on Instagram and Twitter, or respond how goofy/attractive/happy/sad you look on Snapchat remains unknown. It seems like social media’s intention is to engage others and include them in our daily lives on a large scale operation. But this may come at the cost of cheapening our own experiences. Instead of simply enjoying a tube ride down the river, or a night at a bar, we’re overly concerned with others knowing we’re doing those things. How many dumb duckface selfies does this world truly need to see?
Maybe this digital era of photography isn’t so different, as we used to share those photo albums the second a relative visited, and maybe I’m just a sad solipsistic bored without Snapchat. Liquid can be a real ponderous bitch like that, sometimes.
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Photograph by: Ryan Nyenhuis
Sunday June 15th 2008, Fathers Day. Ryan and I woke with a plan. The plan being to sneak into the abandon R.L. Hearn Thermal Generation Power Plant which is located in the south east area of downtown Toronto. We wanted to photograph the beauty of decay.
We had made a trip over to the power plant a week prior to scout out the area, to see where guards were located and to find easy access inside.
Sneaking past the guard house located at the front of the property and making our way along the north west section of property towards the back of the plant where the barbed wire fence was weakest.
We then smoked three quarters of a joint together before working up the nerve to hop the fence. Ryan went first, watching him hop the fence and dart out into the yard and hiding behind scrap metal for cover then finally making it to the back of the building. Then it was my turn. What excitement that was, knowing your breaking the law to do something adventurous.
After getting onto the property we were standing at the back of the Hearn and looking for our way inside. To do so we had to hop up onto a metal fence post and from there had to reach up and grab a hold of plywood that covered up the tall entrance area. A good 15 foot climb up, over and in.
Once inside the first photo that was taken was the one of Ryan and I standing together, titled "final hours".
This place was like no other we had ever explored together. The shear size of it all was breathtaking and mind blowing at the same time. The beauty of destruction.
After the first photo was taken we started exploring the plant. Taking the necessary precautions we had come prepared with asbestos masks and flashlights.
We had made our way around on the ground floor, through locker rooms, showers, storage rooms. Then we started making our way up stairs to the 2nd and 3rd level offices, had the remainder of our joint together.
From the office levels we went back onto the factory area and started climbing the metal stairs up further still. Some photos show how high up we were in that building.
We then made ourselves up onto the roof. What a view from there looking out over the city core. Looking out over Lake Ontario we saw really dark storm clouds. Ryan pulled out a cigarette and had a smoke.
We were up on the roof for about a half hour before Ryan asked me "what do you want to do now man?". "Do you want to go home now or stay a bit longer and explore?". My camera battery had died at this point and being there any longer served no purpose for me. I was hesitant on a response because at the same time I wanted to keep exploring because the plan was to keep coming back weekend after weekend to explore and document the old structure.
I then agreed to keep exploring. We came in off the roof, coming down a level, walked through a doorway into a long looking dark room. All across the top level of The Hearn runs conveyor belts that run coal from one end to the other. Walking together along the metal grating flooring. Ryan was 2 feet in front of me.
I then ended up tripping over a small extruded piece of metal on the floor, and from that second on I pointed my flashlight directly onto the floor to see where I was walking.
Very shortly after this happens, in mid sentence Ryan just falls into blackness. All I see is from his waist up as he plunges into complete blackness and followed by about 4-5 seconds before hearing a sick crash far below.
I then look 2 feet in front of me and see there is no more floor. My imediant thought is that he is dead. Then my brain clicks "I have to get my best friend out of here".
I then tried my best to back track to get out of the building, taking a route that he and I had not taken to get to this point. All I knew is I had to get out of The Hearn and find someone that could help.
I don't even know how I got out of that place. When I did I came out on the back side of the building, ran around to the guard house screaming for help.
I screamed to the guard that my best friend just fell in there and is hurt really bad, he asked what we were doing in there and I told him we were just taking photos.
The guard then called like every paramedic, fire and police officer in the city. About 10 minutes after the call was made all I could hear were the sirens. Scared and relived at the same time I was.
Once they all showed up I told them Ryan was in there, that we were up high in the building and he fell. All the cops were telling me to retrace my steps, they wanted to see where we came in from. I screamed at them "we don't have time for that right now, my best friend is dying in there". I then started leading them to the front of the Hearn because I knew it was the closet way inside. We get to the front and all entrances were boarded up. One cops said to me "Ian there is no way in through this way, you have to show us where you came in from". I then demanded to the fire fighters that they bust this plywood down to get inside.
Once inside the cops started fucking with my mind, me being in total shock at the time they started asking me where we had explored, they wanted me to take them on what would have been a few hours of exploration, which we didn't have time for.
Then an officer finds his asbestos mask and glasses. My first thought is he was okay, that he somehow managed to crawl out under his own power. I was wrong. His mask and glasses had bounced off of objects on the fall and Ryan was nowhere to be found.
The police tried getting a hold of Rogers Communication to see if they could pin point his location with the cell phone he had on him. They ended up using thermal vision to locate him. He was trapped in a coal hopper located high up in the building.
I was escorted out at this point in time because I was too "hysterical" for the cops liking.
Two and a half hours went by, a fierce thunderstorm was passing through.
While they were working on getting Ryan out I was giving my statement to the police. Never gave one of those in my life. I told them everything that I am writing here right now, everything, even the joint smoking. I had Nothing to hide.
We went in undetected but I didn't care if the whole world was watching at this point, I was doing what any best friend would do. I was trying to save him. City Pulse News was there and I was trying to hide from them. I was scared that this is how his family would find out and how my family would find out, being Fathers days and all.
After two and a half hours of hell they finally got Ryan out. I watched them carry him out on a backboard and I yelled to him that I loved him.
Ryan was rushed to St. Micheal's Hospital, the best in all the city for trauma.
I followed about an hour after him, being escorted in a police car. On the drive one officer said to me "this is going to cost you and your buddy about a hundred thousand dollars for all that had to be done here today". What a jackass thing to say. I responded by saying "I don't give a fuck about money, take all I have from me I don't care, I'm loosing the most important person in my life right now".
We get to the hospital, I enter the trauma wing of St. Micheal's. They told me that I was going to be the one to call the home of the Nyenhuis'. I thought that was insane, and told them I could not make that call, that they would have to.
I then went into the waiting room, sat down. I remember the NBA finals were on the televisions in there and I ended up falling asleep somehow.
Waking to Stevie and Tammy's faces hours later (Stevie being Ryan's room mate and Tammy being Ryan's girlfriend).
Stevie told me that John and Cheryl were on their way and that we could go up stairs to the trauma ward to see Ryan.
The trauma centre, located on the 9th floor of St. Micheal's Hospital.
Hours passed by, as the night went on the news kept getting worse and worse about his condition.
I ended up leaving to come back to my apartment at 6am the following morning, I had to talk to my parents and try and shovel some food into my system. Still being in shock and never got treatment for shock when it happened.
I returned to the hospital at 3pm that day. Only to find nothing had changed with his condition.
Then came the worst words I ever had to hear, Ryan's father coming in the room and telling me it was time to say goodbye to Ryan.
We made our way into where he was being cared for. To see my best friend in the state he was in broke my heart. Blood coming out the back of his head, body black and blue bruised from head to toe, internal damage that could not be repaired, feeling his forehead and it being ice cold. He was laying there in front of us, dead. Machines were the only thing keeping him "alive".
I said my goodbyes to him, telling him that he can't leave me here, he can't leave the creation of Studies In Comfort behind, something that is so brilliant, that we were supposed to take over the world together and do all that was planned. I told him to haunt me.
I then looked at his eyes and saw tears. He may have been brain dead but I know he heard every word I said. Doctors did not give an explanation to what was coming out of his eyes.
If only I had said to Ryan "hey man watch your step" he might still be alive today. I have been told over and over again that I can not blame myself for what happened that day. I sometimes still do.
Ryan and I once had a conversation that if something ever happened to one of us that Studies In Comfort would stop, without a core creator there is no sense to continue it. Well I am going against those wishes. I can't lose what he and I created even before it took off the ground.
I now know my purpose in life. To carry on Studies In Comfort. I must continue on for him, finish off the 3 studio albums we had in the works and continue on with this art form.
Ryan died at the wheel and I have moved his lifeless body to the passengers seat and now a fucking insane madman is driving.
Ryan Nyenhuis, whos favourite artist was Nine Inch Nails, who lived on floor number 9, who wore a roman numeral 9 on his right arm, who died on the 9th floor at St. Micheal's Hospital, Toronto.
Thank you to 55 Division and all the paramedics and fire fighters who helped get Ryan out of that terrible dark place.
Ryan Nyenhuis is survived by his father, John, mother Cheryl, sisters, Jennifer and Leah, their beautiful children, myself and Studies In Comfort.
Ryan John Nyenhuis
July 28th 1981 - June 15th 2008
We love and miss you.
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All photographs were taken by Ryan Nyenhuis & Ian Levack with a Casio EX-Z1050 camera.
Although many of you may remember this one (when I posted the link a while back), I wanted to post it for those whom don't. And besides, the complete video can be showcased this time without having to guide one elsewhere, so that's a plus.
. . as he had fun . .. . [164]
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Models:- Moth
Photographer:- DaveFarnan
Location:- Up town studio
©DaveFarnan
The Egyptian goose (Alopochen aegyptiaca) is a member of the duck, goose, and swan family Anatidae. It is native to Africa south of the Sahara and the Nile Valley.
Egyptian geese were considered sacred by the Ancient Egyptians, and appeared in much of their artwork. Because of their popularity as an ornamental bird, escapees are common and feral populations have become established in Western Europe. The Egyptian goose has escaped or been deliberately released in to Florida. Egyptian geese are also now present in many parts of Central and Southeastern Texas.
Fairchild Tropical Botanic Garden, Miami FL
Knowing that today I would receive my Tokina 11-16mm lens in the mail (FINALLY!), I headed out to do some railfanning around the Tuscola area. While heading out of Decatur on US Route 36, I pulled over behind Domino's Pizza to grab a photo of a Union Pacific GP60 (wearing slight graffiti) on the point of CSX Q59412 to Avon, Indiana, waiting for the crew. Since they are only on lease, I had better get a shot of one while I can…
UP GP60 1908
CSXT GP38-2 2722
CSXT GP40-2 6079
(Mother Teresa in stained glass, Transfiguration of Our Lord Parish, near YYZ)
My aviator friends MAY have to pass over this post.
It is in response to a horrendous distortion both illustrative and written about the life of Mother Teresa. I found it on flickr.
But since I am the world’s worst Catholic, waiting for a saint to respond and finding none, I found I had to rise to the occasion.
There are some who claim to know Mother Teresa, all about her in fact.
And it’s all bad news apparently!
I guess all those legions of folk who went to see her, worked alongside her for years or a lifetime just happened to miss all her dark deeds.
Yep.
Assertions too silly and too petty to repeat here, and claims neither balanced, nor insightful regarding the actions or motivations of this saint, I came face-to-face with a shocking realization.
Like that spooky kid in Grade seven, who sat at the back of the class, etched swastikas and loved Adolf Hitler… so too I came to realize, there are just some adults out there, who are really out there, who hate Mother Teresa!
Really… they just don’t understand Catholicism in particular, or Christianity in general.
AND ONE should never criticize, what one has failed to understand!
And some just have no religious stirrings at all ~
ANYWAYS, I’ll let Mother Teresa… the criminal (according to Victor)… defend herself through some of her memorable quotes.
"The biggest disease today is not leprosy or tuberculosis, but rather
the feeling of being unwanted."
"God doesn't require us to succeed; he only requires that you try."
"The hunger for love is much more difficult to remove than the
hunger for bread."
"Jesus said love one another. He didn't say love the whole world."
"In this life we cannot do great things. We can only do small things
with great love."
"Kind words can be short and easy to speak, but their echoes are
truly endless."
"Many people mistake our work for our vocation. Our vocation is the
love of Jesus."
"There is always the danger that we may just do the work for the
sake of the work. This is where the respect and the love and the
devotion come in - that we do it to God, to Christ, and that's why
we try to do it as beautifully as possible."
"Sweetest Lord, make me appreciative of the dignity of my high
vocation, and its many responsibilities. Never permit me to
disgrace it by giving way to coldness, unkindness, or impatience."
Knowing that Amanita Muscaria is toxic to humans, I was surprised to learn that it is not toxic to all animals. While Red Squirrels are said to eat them, the divot seen here seems too small (and we do not have Red Squirrels); slugs are also said to dine on Fly Agaric, so maybe one gorged itself here. Or, given our little city's reputation, perhaps someone availed themself of A. muscaria's hallucinogenic properties in spite of the toxins. Berkeley. January, 2025.
Cross-view stereophoto.
One of the RISE street-art festival commissions that are around the city.
On a walk around the city to see what I may find March 24, 2014 Christchurch New Zealand..A beautiful Autumn day.
www.stuff.co.nz/the-press/christchurch-life/art-and-stage...
All about our Earthquakes: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/2011_Christchurch_earthquake
Not my image - just my PS work. Original image is by Picsbymac at www.flickr.com/photos/macphotos/389719785/