View allAll Photos Tagged stutter
www.youtube.com/watch?v=UGFFl38STBk
I'm the guy in the sky
Flying high Flashing eyes
No surprise I told lies
I'm the punk in the gutter
I'm the new president
But I grew and I bent
Don't you know? don't it show?
I'm the punk with the stutter.
"Nine"
I recall once on the church steps,
When I moved to kiss your chest,
How we paid such close attention
To each sweet and stuttered breath,
I should’ve stopped to paint our picture,
Captured honest pure affection,
Just to document the difference
between attraction and connection.
I can see all of my friends and
I break into empty buildings,
When the coast was clear,
With backpacks full of beer,
We’d throw our bottles from the rooftops
At this city-it looked endless.
Guess I still don’t see the difference
between real purpose and that urgent adolescence.
And I remember in a basement sharing sweat
With all these stranger boys and girls,
“We’ll change the world!” We sang,
“We’ll change the world!” But,
Nothing seems to change and
They say none of them will listen,
But I still see much more power in that basement
than in heartless politicians.
And if we get beaten by this winter,
If we get strangled by regret, just
Let our love of life and tension
Gasp in sweet and stuttered breaths, and
Have them lay us in a basement,
Smash some bottles on the ground, and
Say we couldn't tell the difference
between the feeling and the sound.
Remember not our faulty pieces,
Remember not our rusted parts,
It’s not the petty imperfections that define us but
The way we hold our hearts,
And the way we hold our heads,
I hope they write your names beside mine
on my gravestone when I’m dead.
And when we’re dead let our voices carry on
To find a better song.
To find a better song and sing along
by
la dispute
Mood: Natalie Walker - Colorblind
Taffy stuck and tongue tied
Stutters shook and uptight
Pull me out from inside
I am ready
The dapper Spotted Sandpiper makes a great ambassador for the notoriously difficult-to-identify shorebirds. They occur all across North America, they are distinctive in both looks and actions, and they're handsome. They also have intriguing social lives in which females take the lead and males raise the young. With their richly spotted breeding plumage, teetering gait, stuttering wingbeats, and showy courtship dances, this bird is among the most notable and memorable shorebirds in North America.
After Tara in Gone With The Wind, but with a speech impediment and an odd stutter from the glob of sweet orange packing into my right cheek.
Cara Cara Oranges. The world's most perfect fruit.® (Patent Pending)
I've discovered that I can't change the Safety setting on any of my shots.
Can't change the settings, and thus cannot "fix" my stream for review.
Can't get it reviewed, and thus can't get it un-Restricted.
AHAHHAHAHAHAHA.
Anyway.
Some scenes I look at through my 5D's viewfinder, and what I see is just too much. Too much to be adequately captured with that camera.
So I'll get slightly frustrated (I hate switching cameras, I want one camera I can use for everything, switching cameras means a stutter in the flow of the shoot, means everything stops while I dig around in my camera bag and find the right camera), then I'll huff and puff while bringing out the Mamiya.
The square frame. The ability to capture that subtly bright light both at the top of the shot and on the leaves. All a bit smoother.
Though I wonder if having different camera options limits me. Keeps me from having to force my point of view into whatever camera I'm using. Getting it to work, rather than finding the Best tool for the job...
To all my Flickr friends, a very Merry Christmas to each of you. May you all have a safe and joyous holiday!
©D.Tranovich - All Rights Reserved
Just a few seconds ago, Hank was slowly dying, until he heard something that knocked him out. Everything was black, hollow, like a cave. There the paneling looked metallic, yet, felt like cement. And then he heard something.
-/Hello Hank/- he heard the same voice from before.
“Who’s there?!?” he yelled out.
-/We are./- A hologram of what appeared to be a skull appeared before him.
“Wha-What the hell are you?” He asks, frozen in fear of what’s in front of him.
-/Consider us an ally for your cause. Although, we wish we could’ve met through…… different circumstances. However it is how you humans say “Better late than never.”/- the voice responded
“Who are you?” he asked nervously.
-/Someone who is a fan of your work. Someone who saved you from your previous condition./-
“C-Condition?”
-/Observe/- it said as multiple screens were appearing around him, showing the news reports him being missing, Lex being arrested, breaking out, and being defeated by Superman.
“H-How long have I been gone?”
-/Long enough to lose your goal to that kryptonian. He took away the one thing that kept you alive…. Vengeance. You humans normally have that desire to fuel you. But he took it away./- He doesn’t respond, just looking to the nonexistent ground beneath him. Tears running down his cheeks.
-/Thankfully, We can help you get that vengeance from that kryptonian./- It interjects. He looks up and stands before asking.
“I must ask, why do you refer to yourself as we?” Suddenly, he hears a humming before turning around to see a red glow coming from behind him. Then he sees two more, they get closer to reveal themselves as robots that had an uncanny valley of looking human, yet non-human.
-/How about it Hank?/- a light appears, shining on what seems to be the remains of his body, surrounded by a liquid metal of sorts.
“Wha-what is it?” He stuttered out.
-/What we could save, but now, we can help you acheive your goal, to kill superman./-
-/Will you claim your vengeance? Will you become our avatar and claim your second life?/- He stares at it before responding.
“Y-Yes, but never call me Hank again. Hank died years ago, now Cyborg Superman lives.” The liquid metal then forms the superman symbol on his chest.
Quite inadequate, awkward, shy and stuttering.
Bitting his lips til they bleed and sitting with tennis shoes on the couch.
The sudden bone-chilling blast of ice hit Caelan’s giant wooden shield like a tidal wave, almost knocking him over. The Ice Wizard’s incantation spilled over the shield’s edges and began to freeze everything, even the air around him. If it wasn’t for the wooden shield in front of him, or if it had been metal instead of wood, he would have been frozen instantly, just like Lord Bajads and his staff had earlier been frozen solid. Even with the shield’s protection he began to shiver and lose focus, slipping into a daze, with memories flashing in his mind.
Everything the spy had told them back at Durrough was true. Unfortunately the expedition leader, Lord Bajads of Durrough, not only didn’t believe him but publicly embarrassed Sir Caelan for consoling with a lowly, Outlaw spy. Caelan and his fifteen men were placed in reserve, the least honorable position. Once the joint Lenfel-Loreesi army had landed on the beach of the northern-most point of the Island of Lost Souls, Lord Bajads led the way with his three dozen men. The Loreesi contingent of two dozen was placed second in line, with the very capable Sir Emdell of Loreos in command of that element. During the entire venture Bajads refused to listen to any suggestion of caution by Caelan or Tavish, his wise archer. He did consult with Sir Emdell, who advised a screen of Lenfel archers to go on ahead of the main force.
So Caelan was forced to make do by ordering his men to avoid metal shields, just as the spy had said, and wear leather armor coated in animal fat where possible. He himself had procured a giant wooden shield and dragged it along determinedly. He also went without his usual metal helmet.
The Lenfel archers were the first to report the news of a force of Outlaws, twice their numbers, awaiting them in a glade between a jagged peak and a large oak tree. Lord Bajads happily declared they move to meet them and confidently predicted their victory, even after a strange man clad in white had emerged from a cave to stand on a ledge which commanded a view of the entire area. The first wave of Lord Bajads’ Lenfels charged forward only to find out this man was indeed Jens Valtyr, the Ice Wizard. The wizard chilled them with a wave of oppressive cold so that they could barely hold on to their weapons. Then the Outlaws swept forward and the results were ugly. What made the situation so perilous was that the Lenfels’ famous archery skills were of no use against Valtyr. The wizard had some kind of incantation running which allowed him to cast his spells while simultaneously deflecting any shot that was taken at him.
Lord Bajads was a courageous man, and he immediately charged toward the wizard, but then Valtyr released his ultimate spell, the ice blast, and froze him and his retainers on the spot. The Outlaws moved in and the rest of his staff perished trying to protect him. The Lenfel line wavered, but then Sir Emdell ordered his Loreesi in and they bravely took the fight to the enemy. Even with the Ice Wizard’s spells it looked like the joint force was making headway, but then Valtyr sent in his bodyguard, a large and brutal minotaur. The vicious beast went straight for Sir Emdell and hammered him mercilessly. They wounded each other, but Emdell got the worst of it and staggered back to the shelter of the oak tree. The minotaur pursued him, intent on finishing the Loreesi nobleman. That was when Sir Caelan acted without orders, charged his entire retinue in reserve and made straight for the beast.
Caelan had never fought a magical creature before, yet he instinctively knew what he had to do. Pushing the great wooden shield before him as a distraction, he let go of it just as it slapped into the minotaur and drew out his dirk. The longsword in his other hand barely held the beast’s battle axe in check, and aiming for the same wound Emdell had previously given the creature, Caelan drove his dagger into the minotaur’s gut all the way. It was over in a moment; the giant beast fell back in agony and lay writhing upon the ground. There was no time for any joy however as Caelan looked up to see a horrific sight: that of the Ice Wizard intent on revenge. Caelan barely had time to pick up the shield and duck behind it before the blast hit him…
“Wake up...stand up and get some blood flowin’ while I build a fire.”
“Wha-wha-what?” Caelan was shivering so badly he barely managed to speak.
“You were hit by the ice,” Tavish said as he began to pile up wood and shavings. “Looks like the shield did it’s work. How are you?”
“Fro-froz...headache. Ba-battle?”
“Over. I shot him in the knee and he fell.”
“Ha-ha-how?”
Tavish grinned. “Anythin’ we shot directly at him flew off. I got so frustrated I started shootin’ at rocks at his feet. One deflected and hit him in the knee sudden-like. He maybe a great wizard but he canna take any wee bit o’ pain. Crumpled like a little girl and fell off the ledge. We have him alive and tied up over there. Makes for a nice present to the king. The Outlaws were so shocked they turned and ran after they saw him fall, and our men chased along right after ‘em. How about those Loreesi, eh?”
Caelan stuttered, “They fight even harder than they party. How are our own men?”
“Murdoch took a battle axe to the head,” Tavish stated soberly. “Good that he had no relatives. Five others wounded but not bad. They’ll see green Lenfald again. The Durroughsmen are much worse off.”
Caelan shook his head in disgust. If they had only listened.
To cheer him up a bit Tavish congratulated him, “That bull-man was a true bit a work. I’m havin’ the lads lop his head off for stuffin’. You can mount him over the fireplace when we get back.”
“Lovely.”
Having gotten the fire going, Tavish helped Sir Caelan over to it and whispered conspiratorially, “Ya know, with Lord Bajads an icicle and Emdell wounded, we ain’t got no orders.”
“So?”
“Well, that spy was right on ‘bout that wizard, an maybe he’s as right on ‘bout that tower full o’ silver too.” A gleam crept into his eye.
“You want to go on a treasure hunt at a time like this?”
“Of course,” the always practical archer stated. “After all, you owe that spy fifteen more Draken. An you ain’t got even ten to your name now.”
Caelan scowled, “Can I warm my bones first?”
“Ach, now you’re whinin’ like that wizard. Fine, warm the cockles of your heart.” Tavish nodded slyly, “Then we be after that tower.”
----------------------
This is the first land battle scene I’ve ever done, so I'm fairly amazed it won LCC's Global Contest 3. The whole ice spell set up was the most challenging part.
Our brilliant northern skies. Yellowknife, NT. 2011.
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The sky no longer opens.
It is tapped.
A foreign geometry inserts itself
between voltage and prayer,
between the cable’s tension
and the tree’s last memory of roots.
This triangle is not a symbol.
It is an instrument.
It does not descend; it interfaces.
It drinks the static breath of clouds,
coils perception into recursive angles,
teaches the horizon to stutter.
Inside it, forests are archived,
light is folded into procedural wounds,
and time forgets which direction
was ever considered forward.
The poles do not transmit electricity anymore.
They transmit obedience.
A ritual hum travels through copper veins,
rewriting the weather as doctrine.
Rain becomes a protocol.
Thunder, a checksum failure.
No god arrives.
Only infrastructure wearing the mask of revelation.
This is the age where the sky is no longer above us,
but plugged into us.
The triangle waits; not to be worshipped,
but to be accepted as inevitable.
When it finally disconnects,
there will be no blackout.
Only the unbearable silence
of a world realizing
it had been thinking
on borrowed circuits.
"A rich, russet-and-gray bird with bold streaks down its white chest, the Song Sparrow is one of the most familiar North American sparrows. Don’t let the bewildering variety of regional differences this bird shows across North America deter you: it’s one of the first species you should suspect if you see a streaky sparrow in an open, shrubby, or wet area. If it perches on a low shrub, leans back, and sings a stuttering, clattering song, so much the better." Cornell
I love this species. When I heard it calling in someone's backyard, I looked at my friend Scott and told him to knock on the person's front door. "Why do I have to knock? You knock!". Tap tap tap. A large, stern man carrying the largest pistol I've ever seen confidently opens the door. "Uh . . ." I stutter. "Uh I was wondering if you would mind if I took some photos of the birds at your backyard feeder?" "Of course! The name's Clyde. Come on back!". Clyde is a great guy and I've known him for years now.
Two spots just opened up for this year's Northern Michigan Songbirds trip: www.studebakerstudio.com/michigan-songbirds-2019
Shape: Despite my account age, in-world, this is not my first second life avatar. My very first account actually, was made about 2006 I believe? I remembered logging on for the first time and trying to figure out how to customize my 'character' right then and there, thinking this was a game like Everquest or Aion, or, WoW and stuff. I went into the library folders, and I went through it, giving myself glasses and texturing a shirt I was wearing and everything. AND I had the actual SL default hair. Heh. But, when it came to shapes, I was completely clueless. I didn't buy any pre-made shapes back then, I made my own from scratch... And ended up looking like an asian child avi (I insisted on being really short for some reason.). And I wasn't open to changing my shape at all, even though someone was trying to improve my looks. My current shape now has been tweaked over and over again (constantly still) based on a pre-made shape I got with a pack of Mother Goose skins that I bought when I logged on with this new account for the first time. I think also, for the first time ever, I am very happy with the general look of my face now. I tweak it still with different skins I wear, but I feel beautiful now. Err, well, attractive I guess is the word. Although, I have to admit, I am not that great at making the actual body part of a shape. I'm not like most other female avies that I've seen on Flickr, blog feeds, in SL... I don't really like the big, pony-rider hip shape. Don't get me wrong. It looks good on others, just not on me. So, I prefer to be slim, still.
Skin: I've enjoyed wearing different kinds of skins over the years. My very first skin I think was uh... It was a Redgrave skin. An asian skin. I was very attached to it back then. Mainly because this really hot guy bought it for me (for some reason, he took it upon himself to sort of take me under his wing, and hook me up with everything until I had a decent looking avatar. And... Heh. I was his sex toy, basically.) *coughs* ANYWAY... The skin I wear as of now, most of the time, is a skin that I was given as a gift from the actual skin designer. I was browsing her skins at her store, and I was trying on the first demo I picked up there. I wanted a natural look, with little to no makeup on it (so that I could cake myself with clowny makeup, bwahaha! ;D) But, this skin designer though, for some reason, seemed to fancy the look of this demo on me so much that she gave me a free copy of the skin itself. This skin is the one I am wearing in this photo, and it is the one I wear most of the time now. I'm not really sure if I should mention the skin designer's name, but she knows who she is. And we have become friends, or at least I'd like to think so! Thank you soooo much! I will never forget your kindness. As for other skins, I'm becoming a fan of Glam Affair's recent ones as well.
Eyes: Well, I think most of everyone who knows me, or at least follows me closely on Flickr here, knows that I am a die hard fan for Dead Apple's eyes. I've been a fan since I picked up my first pair of her
Nebula Kawaii Eyes (in blue of course). As of now though, I am addicted to the blue shades of her Sinistre line. The pair of eyes I am wearing in the above photo though are one of the special colors of her limited edition Horror Haute Sinistre eyes that she released at the end of September (I don't believe they are available anymore now). But I think I will always be Soleil's biggest fan when it comes to eyes.
Lips: I'm kinda still trying to figure out my lip shape now a days, depending on what skin/lip makeup I am wearing. I've been actually attempting to learn how to make lipstick now for makeup, but uh... It's been a long and frustrating progress. Now a days though I just don't wear any lip makeup (like in the above photo). But it does depend on what look I am looking for. Lip shape wise, well, I try not to get a 'trout pout.' Whatever works with different skins I wear.
Style: Oh boy, style... Um. Well, I am honestly a fan of almost any type of genre of fashion, but for my avatar now, I tend to go for what I think a Nolanverse version of Harley Quinn would look like. However, it has grown beyond just that. It is just an experiment still. I see other things that I'd not normally wear, and I'd try to think of how I could make it work with my style? At the moment, I'm contemplating experimenting with more looks, different types of clownish outfits especially, in the future. Oh, heh... The cigar deal... I dunno why I keep insisting on smoking them. They empower me, I guess? Make me feel like a pimpin' clown lady! And I love taking photos of myself with a cigar in my mouth.
Hair: When it comes to hair, I have moved on to mesh hair when it comes to shoulder length to long hair. Sometimes though I still fancy the really fine detailed strands of hair some sculpted hair styles have. I am looking forward to how mesh will evolve in the future! Right now though, my most favorite hair brand would have to be fashionably dead's hair, and I am wearing one of the hairs that Toast Bard designed for the Sept Collabor88 (not available now), AND to top it off, heh, I modded and put on a hat that came from another FD hair (a non-mesh hair). I'm a fan of fashionably dead hair because of simply this, and I want any hair designer that is reading to take this to thought. I'm a major fan of FD's hair textures. They look so realistic and fine, even on the mesh hairstyles that are coming out now (although in this photo, I don't think you'll be able to see very clearly how the hair texture looks. I didn't want to draw hair over it kinda for that reason.) But I'm looking forward to what else Toast Bard makes when it comes to mesh hair! That is definitely for sure. And, usually, I will wear blonde hair (in different tones).
Personality: My personality... I guess it depends on who knows me. How my personality appears to other people. I know some people may not care for me, personally. And perhaps others do care and like me. I tend to try to be open-minded, although I do have faults. I'm not perfect. Nobody is perfect. I can be sweet at times, I can be aloof at other times... And there are times where I have acted or said some things that I perhaps should not have expressed openly, like the flickr post I uploaded before this one. I am a role player, have been for years, so, as of now, I try to be silly and funny with this clowny persona. But, I try to be friendly to just about everyone I meet. And... I'd like to think that perhaps, I could become a better person, or well, clown... In the future.
I'd also love to make more friends (I honestly do not have that many in SL...). The type of friends who would want to say hi to you often. I have met people in SL (and through Flickr of course) that I'd especially would love to get to know (and I... Uh... I have quite a few crushes on some of my male flickr contacts, heh. ;D) I'm not officially, uh... Dating anyone in SL. I used to want to very desperately find that special guy. And through the years I have loved and I have lost, and I have been used, I have been cheated, and... Well, it is very hard to try to trust any sort of guy in SL at the moment and want to be romantic with them. So, I guess, the right one(s) will come along when I am not looking. Heh. Maybe I'll meet my 'Misteh J' one day? I don't know. Not that many fine ass clowny men out there in the SL world (that are single that is.)
RL wise... It is no picnic now. I have kinda hesitated about sharing this publicly, but, I think this post would be the most important one to share this with. IRL right now, I am in a group home. I am on disability, for reasons that I'd rather not share. But I have been hospitalized many times (mental behavioral hospitals, My most recent hospital stay was actually a few months ago... But I am doing 110% better now!) ). I'm not literally crazy or anything. I suffer from depression and have anxiety. I also isolate myself from other people, which is really hard to deal with especially when you live in a house with over 10 people living in it. I feel like one day, I will be able to handle living on my own. As of now my plan is to live by myself (if I can) and have a cat to keep me company. So, yeah... I have very little independence now, and doing these photos and spending time in SL and everything is my escape. I feel like opening up and expressing these personal facts about myself is going to bite me in the ass in SL eventually, but oh well.
Strangely, I am not online in SL very often now a days because (A. - My laptop needs a new battery, and when I log into SL sometimes, the laptop crashes (even when on low graphics.). - (B. - I am in the mood to watch movies and youtube videos and they lag and skip and stutter when I am logged in SL at the same time. or (C. - RL stuff is happening and/or I just don't want to be logged on.
So, for those who I do want to keep in constant contact with and those that would feel like doing the same with me, I do have Skype and I would love to add you guys and get to know you! But you'll have to flickr mail me or IM me in-world for the username. Heh.
I don't really know if I should mention this here, but I do have plurk as well. www.plurk.com/harleyquinade_sl
What else can I share? I am not certain, but I enjoyed filling this out. I saw other people in my flickr contacts that have been doing these posts. I'm not sure where it has originally started from, but I was inspired to do it when I read a couple of my flickr contact's entries, specifically Mar Pie's post & Ruben metal maggot's one too.
The photo above, was done in like 4 hours? Maybe? It WAS taken with SL shadows, yes, but I wanted to do a lighting editing experiment from within photoshop as well. I guess there is a bit too much yellow, but I like it ok. I'll work on another version or so I guess maybe with drawn/painted hair. And reveal the full body shot of this. But, I'm happy with it. This is the outfit I wear typically now a days. I'm too lazy to change at the moment, except for when doing photos. xD
Thank you to those who are my friends, and thank you to those that support my photos/makeup. I never really thanked everyone that has blogged my one and only makeup product so far, heh. I do love bloggers, and I love blogging, myself, whenever I decide to start doing it more seriously. I'd like to think, whenever I can get off my lazy clown ass and release more stuff for my MP store, that I can get to the point where I'd love to release review copies to bloggers eventually, when I get more established.
Hopefully my RL stress and my laptop-constantly-crashing situation will get better soon! It surprisingly did today. I didn't think I would be able to snap this photo today.
Thank you.
Me siento y miro.
Me pongo a pensar sobre las causas –conjuntas, suficientes, necesarias, geográficas, económicas, sociales... históricas e histéricas también– y sobre los efectos –los de las noticias y los que no andan ahí, los que no me esperaba y los que ví inevitables con el ceño fruncido– de este fenómeno... sobre sus fases y dolencias, sobre sus interminables interrelaciones.
Me da vértigo.
Síncope...
Y se me lengua la traba...
-Reset-
Doom Patrol Issue Two: Family Reunion
1984
Miami, Florida
“Hello? Lawrence? Lawrence Trainor?”
The Chief says, causing me to spit my rum into my bandages, soaking them. How'd he find my hotel room?
“Ch-Chief?” I stutter, confused as to how Niles found the number to the telephone in my hotel room.
“Yes Lawrence, it's me.” He confirms. “I'm sorry for bothering you, but it's urgent. Cliff disappeared about two weeks ago, a window in his room was broken violently. I have a couple leads, but I thought you may want to know. It's taken me quite a lot of time and effort to find your number.”
“I'm gonna need a one way ticket to Missouri.”
I growl, in my best Clint Eastwood impression.
“No, that won't be necessary. Rita and I will come to you. You see, the tracking chip in Cliffs body just went off on the outskirts of Miami. You won't have to leave your vacation quite yet. We'll bring the private jet, meet us at the airport at four.”
“Hey uh Chief I just wanted to-” He hangs up. I guess he's keeping it professional.
I resume drinking my rum, dancing to the upbeat tune blaring from my stereo.
4:32 PM
I drag myself sluggishly to the front of the airport. I see two blurry figures in front of the double glass doors. They don't look very pleased with me. I check my watch to see the time, I'm a half an hour late. I guess I lost track of time while I was drinking.
“Larry? Are you okay?” A soft and familiar female voice questions.
“Oh, it is you guys!” I scream ecstatically. I limp over to an aging man in a wheelchair, it's Niles.
“Lawrence, have you been drinking?”
He says, with his british grandpa voice.
I place my hand on his shoulder and turn to Rita.
“I'm okay Chief I only had a little. You ready to get the Doom Patrol back together?” I slur, collapsing to the hot pavement.
I awake in the backseat of what I presume is a taxi, sandwiched between Rita and The Chief. They both seem fairly annoyed by my drunk antics, but I'm having the time of my life.
I guess we arrive at our destination, because the cab comes to a screeching halt.
“This is the place, uh, Chang's International Buffet? The fee is gonna be six fifty.” The taxi driver says to the general group.
“Thank you, kind sir.”
Niles says, handing him a twenty dollar bill from his pocket.
“Damn, twenty? Thanks man.”
The driver says, a smile forming on his face.
Rita opens the door on her side, and steps out of the cab. She stretches both of her arms, one opening the trunk and taking out Chief's wheelchair, and the other taking me forcefully by the shoulder and pulling my wasted ass out of the car. She leaves me on the ground, while she wheels The Chief's chair on over to him. She gracefully lifts him up and places him on the chair, and begins wheeling him to the buffet.
I'm too drunk for this shit. I watch them make their way to the door, still lying on the road. I get assaulted with exhaust as the driver speeds away. The door to the restaurant blows open and a short, greasy, Asian man walks outside, wearing a white tank top and sweatpants. He swings his arms open when he sees The Chief.
“Niles! Niles Caulder! It's been years!”
He bellows, an enormous grin on his face.
“Ah, Mr. Chang. How have you been?”
Chief says, receiving a big hug from Mr. Chang.
“Business is good, so I'm great! Come in, come in.” He says, opening the door and gesturing Rita and Chief inside. They follow him inside and I shut my eyes, hoping to wake up from this nightmare. My eyes shoot open as I feel Rita's arm stretch out of the doorway and drag me inside the Buffet.
(Honourable Mention in the 2012 International Photography Awards landscape category, as part of my 'Sand, Sea & Silence' set of five photographs)
(Published in Advanced Photographer, Dec 2012)
(Explore #347)
Sometimes these descriptions come easy and sometimes they don't (note: although I now realise this one flowed in seconds, which contradicts some of what I'm about to say) - much the same as the art of photography and all the trials and tribulations that go hand in hand with it. The last few weeks have been frustrating, I've felt in a rut both in terms of what to shoot and how to shoot it. I think it's probably akin to something like writer's block, where I'd imagine a pen will often glide fluidly, before stuttering and pausing in hesitation over a piece of paper before coming to a halt. I won't reiterate my dislike for the summer months where image making is concerned - I've already done that, but suffice to say I've had relatively few occasions recently where an image has 'felt' right as I was taking it. That sense you sometimes have, even before you frame up and meter, survey the viewfinder for distractions and so forth that the shot will be that little bit... special.
I'm looking forward to autumn and winter (although I'd best not whisper that too loudly elsewhere!) and am hoping that that sense might hit me a little more often than of late...
This shot was something of an oddity. It's a simple composition of course - one I've had in mind for this specific sea defence for some time now. A reserve if you will. Being out with my camera yesterday and suffering a particularly bad lack of inspiration, I decided to venture out to this spot again (I've done so two or three times recently) and see what prevailed. The tide was just on the ebb, and I was pleased to notice some promising cloud structure forming. I nearly missed the whole thing - thanks to much cursing as I did battle with a temperamental filter holder that refused to attach itself to my ND110. It's my own fault - I hadn't realised how much sea salt had accumulated in the threads but a clean sorted things out after I'd wasted several minutes determinedly trying to ignore the fact it wasn't going to play ball!
So, once home and I could view the shot properly, I started to feel that sense I mentioned above (you'll know how sometimes it doesn't happen until you see the shot properly) - only a little later than normal. I'm still looking forward to autumn and winter, but perhaps there's hope for the next few months yet...
Fast. Fast is one of the only words to describe how 2013 felt. It's hard to believe that tomorrow begins the New Year. Even though this year was fast, I feel it was one of the best years of my life in the LEGO community.
First off, this is the year I started to make characters from The Walking Dead, which got my YouTube channel and Flickr stream a new audience. Making figures from The Walking Dead was one of the best decisions I made, and I have really loved doing it. I cannot wait until Season 4 returns so I can begin to make more figures!
Along with The Walking Dead, this year I made an attempt at creating the prison, but that didn't turn out great, but check it out on my YouTube channel if you would like.
Even though its a smaller event, the creation of Infinity Squad was big to me. I really liked the idea of making stories based around a squad, and I can't wait to continue with them in 2014. Hopefully I'll get some new Phase 2 armor for them soon so I can actually pose them :)
Also, I began making a lot of Mandalorians this year, which I am very proud of. My Jango Fett, Boba Fett, Pre Vizsla, and Bo-Katan figures are some of my best and stand out in my collection.
One of the biggest events that occurred this year was BrickFair: Virginia. That event was one of the greatest experiences in my life. I met so many fantastic people and had an outstanding time there, it kind of felt like home. It was a wonderful feeling to be surrounded by people who had the same interests as you.
Throughout this year, my figures significantly changed, as did my attitude about creating them. I began to take my time on painting and actually planning out what to do for them rather than just winging it like I had done in the past. I explored new themes and new ways to customize, as well as attempting camouflage which you can see on my upcoming Battlefield 4 figures. I had to step put of my comfort zone on a lot of figures, but all of them turned out just the way I was hoping, thus expanding the zone.
Some of you may remember I had posted a "Steps Toward Profession" photo at the beginning of the year, seen here: www.flickr.com/photos/52286648@N06/8336046355/
I listed several goals, which I had wanted to achieve in a few months, but that didn't happen. However, I am proud to say I did complete all of those goals by the end of the year. I made a more professional looking background, which changed to a banner with YouTube's new layout. I did create a new studio with better lighting and used a better camera for filming. I began to upload more and more, trying to get back into the game. Lastly, I finally verified myself as a Partner, thus allowing me to make custom thumbnails for my videos which I had always wished to do. Throughout this journey, I regained my lost 200 subscribers, along with 1,600 more, giving me a total of 4,800+ subscribers which I am grateful for!
I went farther off these goals to make my channel and photostream more professional. For the channel, I made an introduction, outro, new logo, and planned what to say so I wouldn't stutter as much. For my Flickr stream, I better prepared my showcases with related backgrounds and camera/figure angles, as well as exploring Adobe Photoshop to edit my shots to make them look better.
In the photo above, I put all of the figures I have made this year. I not sure how many, but I was amazed I was able to paint so many of them! You can notice the difference in the quality of the figures by comparing the old figures to the new, which I think really shows how much I believe I've improved. In the comments, tell me which figure(s) is your favorite!
I just want to thank you all for how much support and feedback you have given me. It really contributes to my improvement, and I couldn't have done it without you all!
I am now saying farewell to 2013, and looking forward. 2014 is going to be amazing, and I am super excited to showcase my Battlefield 4 figures! I plan on making Lilly and Tara from The Walking Dead, but other than them, I have little to no idea of what figures I will be making in 2014, but I am certain something will pop up!
Thank you all again for you support and appreciation, it means the world to me! I wish you all a Happy New Year!
-Aaron/LM9 Productions
I am so thankful that my family never worries about their next meal. It is a blessing I do not take for granted.
Mamiya 645
Fugi Superia
200 ISO
a new variety of agapanthus in our garden - trying for bokeh - quite a bit of 'faffing'......
I found this on Google: "faffing - late 18th century (originally dialect in the sense ‘blow in puffs’, describing the wind): imitative. The current sense may have been influenced by dialect faffle ‘stammer, stutter’, later ‘flap in the wind’, which came to mean ‘fuss, dither’ at about the same time as faff (late 19th century)"
the lights you held in your hands so casually as though that is where lights go shine still and again over and under, too.
The dapper Spotted Sandpiper makes a great ambassador for the notoriously difficult-to-identify shorebirds. They occur all across North America, they are distinctive in both looks and actions, and they're handsome. They also have intriguing social lives in which females take the lead and males raise the young. With their richly spotted breeding plumage, teetering gait, stuttering wingbeats, and showy courtship dances, this bird is among the most notable and memorable shorebirds in North America. www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Spotted_Sandpiper/overview#
And I'm begging you,
Bring me back to life,
I just can't stand leaving you alone tonight.
It's too late to go,
Already taken me forever just to try, you know.
One for the money, two for the show,
Three to get ready, and four to go.
For the life of me,
I don't know why it took me so long to see.
Stutter, Stutter, Stutter,
Di-di-di-di-di-did I?
Stutter, Stutter, Stutter,
Di-di-di-di-di-di-did I?
Stutter, Stutter, Stutter,
Di-di-di-di-di-did I?
Stutter, Stutter, Stutter,
Di-di-di-di-di-di-did I?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Stutter - Marianas Trench
Hey people! :D
As you can see I got a new doll today! ^w^
My first Isul and oh my gosh! I'm totally in love with him! ♥♥♥ I did make some changes to him because the fact that you couldn't even tell that he had eyebrows bugged me, so I just customized him a bit (and will customize him more later on too).
His name is Kuran, Oliver, Pendragon and is the youngest child in the Estate family (Jamie, Mathew and their older sister).
He is my musician (his favourite instrument to play is the harp) and mysterious guy, and if you didn't get the hint from the song I chose for this picture, he does indeed have a stammer/stutter/speaking impediment. :3
I'll write up all his information soon, because I've been planning his character for a very long time. (Estrella should know we were both fangirling in our heads XD)
This photo also goes out to Shannon and Apollo! Thanks so much you two! GiGi and I really appreciated all the hard work that you put into making that time machine for all of us! *hugs*
Sorry about the cake (I actually did make some), Angry and my relatives ate it before I could use it for a picture. ^__^"
Hope you all had a fantastic start to the week everyone! :D
Thanks for reading! ^w^
Great Horned Owls are nocturnal. You may see them at dusk sitting on fence posts or tree limbs at the edges of open areas, or flying across roads or fields with stiff, deep beats of their rounded wings. Their call is a deep, stuttering series of four to five hoots.
Monday, 9 December 2019: temperature is -6C (windchill -10C) at noon, and it was snowing up till about a minute ago. Sunset is at 4:29 pm.
I am adding this very sad email that I received yesterday, just in case there are any local birders/photographers who knew Sue Konopnicki, but have not heard that Sue passed away on 6 December. Thank you, Joan, for sending out these thoughtful words. My condolences to Sue's family and friends.
"Our Birding community is deeply saddened to inform you of the passing of Sue Konopnicki on Friday, December 6th after a courageous battle with cancer. For many years Sue has been an enthusiastic Saturday participant with the Friends of Fish Creek Birding sessions. Her passion for nature and especially birds developed at a young age and continued throughout her life. As a principal with the Calgary Board of Education, and working together with a group of like-minded teachers, she facilitated a nature-focused learning environment in her school. As well, Sue was a board member with Nature Calgary, a volunteer with Nature Conservancy and a long-time bluebird nest-box monitor. Highlights of her various volunteer roles included arranging funding for students to attend nature-focused field trips, co-founder of the Family Birdwatching Course and Youth Birding Camp with Friends of Fish Creek and Nature Calgary and membership with the Calgary Bird Banding Society. Her love for life-long learning, leadership skills and deep appreciation for the outdoors were inspirational. She touched many lives in deep and meaningful ways. Sue will be greatly missed and lovingly remembered by her daughters, sons-in-law, grandchildren and all who walked the pathways with her. She has been a great friend and the Saturday group will miss her immensely. We were privileged to be a part of her life."
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Today, 9 December 2019, I have just posted five more odds and ends of photos, from way back in my archives, instead of going through photos taken more recently. I'm just not getting time to get out and take any new photos, anyway. I am adding the description that was under another photo taken the same day.
"Yet another overcast, dreary morning here today, 18 November 2016, with a temperature of -3C (windchill -7C). The sun is supposed to come out this afternoon, which would be a really welcome sight.
This photo of a Great Horned Owlet was taken on 6 May 2016, in a local natural area/park. Unfortunately, I had half a dozen errands to run before allowing myself to go out with my camera, so I didn't get there till late, and the light quickly began to fade. No time to look around the area for any other birds on this visit.
This beautiful owlet had been on the ground for a while before I arrived. There were a few people there and more came and went. However, I later heard that the owlet had been able to claw and flap its way up one of the trees and was safely out of reach of most predators. Meanwhile, the other fledgling had been very high up in a different tree, along with Mom. I'm glad I did call in at this location when I did, as this beautiful little owl gave us a few chances for photos when it was up on a log or down on the ground, usually partly hidden by the plants and bushes. I don't know how it ended up on the ground, but obviously it fell from somewhere or misjudged flying distance and missed an intended branch when it finally left the nesting tree. An interesting world for it to explore, though it wasn't very steady on its feet yet : )
Things seem to happen so fast this spring and I missed seeing the two owlets balancing on the rim of the nesting tree, exercising their wings before fledging. Also, I had been so busy that I only went over to see the youngsters a handful of times. Looking on the more important side, this meant one less person intruding on their area, of course, though I have to say that these owls are remarkably tolerant of humans. If a Canada Goose, on the other hand, should get anywhere near the nest or the little ones, Mom or Dad flies in for an immediate attack."
"With its long, earlike tufts, intimidating yellow-eyed stare, and deep hooting voice, the Great Horned Owl is the quintessential owl of storybooks. This powerful predator can take down birds and mammals even larger than itself, but it also dines on daintier fare such as tiny scorpions, mice, and frogs. It’s one of the most common owls in North America, equally at home in deserts, wetlands, forests, grasslands, backyards, cities, and almost any other semi-open habitat between the Arctic and the tropics.
Great Horned Owls are nocturnal. You may see them at dusk sitting on fence posts or tree limbs at the edges of open areas, or flying across roads or fields with stiff, deep beats of their rounded wings. Their call is a deep, stuttering series of four to five hoots." From AllAboutBirds.
Boy this is old
But I've loved it for about
4 months now
+1 SOOC
I hope everyone had a terrible superbowl night.
Just kidding.
Go Steelers.
Bathing in Del Rey Lagoon while youngster forages.
Thought I'd, once again, try posting directly to Flickr, rather than uploading to YouTube and posting the link in Flickr. However, when I play it, there's a stop motion/stuttering. If anyone else experiences this, please let me know.
I love photographing these lovely flowers when they are available in the spring at our garden centers. Admittedly the genus name is a bit of a land mine for mediocre spellers. People so often judge us more for our minor flaws, rather than for our profound statements or brilliant accomplishments. I have a friend with dozens of patents (several marketable). He's a very poor speller, so many people think he's stupid! Another acquaintance is a valedictorian of his high school class. He has a foreign accent and stutters, so he's incorrectly judged as a moron by many.....Fuchsia is a plant genus with 110 species, consisting mostly of shrubs or small trees. As I mentioned previously, one of my favorite flowers to photograph. ❤❤
8. “But can I at least see where this pit is?” The newbie wanted to know so he could certainly avoid this horrid place.
“It’s against my better judgment,” replied the chairman, “but I’ll show you the entrance where the pit is found. It is heavily guarded, so you know the seriousness of what we mean.”
They descend a few flights of stone stairs into the deep basement of the Secret Society Hall. The light becomes dimmer as they approach the entrance. The guard on duty straightens up, holding his sword and shield in readiness to defend the entrance.
“It is I,” the chairman said with an air of authority. “Please lower your weapons.”
The guard dutifully obeyed. Then the chairman pointed into the darkness and told the newbie, “Beyond this entrance and a few steps to the right is the infamous pit. Those who go down that pit seldom return.”
The newbie simply swallowed hard. “You...you...you... mean they ne...ne...never come out?” He stuttered due to the fright instilled in his very being.
“I haven’t seen anyone come out since I have been chairman.”
“How long have have you be...be...been the chairman?”
“About 30 years now.”
Lesser Redpoll (Acanthis cabaret) breeds only in western Europe; mainly Britain and the Low Countries. Some authorities treat it as a race of Common Redpoll (A. flammae) but BOU continue to treat it as a full species on the official British List. Lesser Redpolls are red-listed because they suffered a breeding population decline of >50% 1981-2010, with a corresponding decline in winter, and a range contraction. The population is thought to be c260,000 breeding pairs, which sounds like a lot, but compared with 1.2 million pairs of Goldfinch, it isn't huge. They have largely disappeared as a breeding bird from lowland south and east England but in Scotland populations appear to have recovered slightly. I still see them regularly in the Pennines, though most of my sightings are flyovers that I identify from their staccato stuttering calls: xeno-canto.org/821425 They have a strong association with birch trees, and to a lesser extent with alders. Most of my close sightings are in winter when they feed on seeds from the catkins, like this individual is doing. They really are tiny as well, weighing in at just 11g that is less than a third of the weight of a House Sparrow. You can see here the distinctive red poll (forehead) and the little black bib. This was an opportunistic grab shot while I was out walking with a friend last week, one of a mixed flock of Redpolls, Siskins and Goldfinches.
“.. that appears to be something but is not really so.”
Sounds like a false front, no?
Fact: At times, I could be shy, have the stutters and act silly when I'm with someone I have feelings for. It's pretty embarrassing.. coz' by the end of the day, I'm all smiles and people go asking... "Emily, why are you smiling to yourself again?!"
It happened. Uncountable times.
From today's many discoveries..
“Well, now you know I don’t like chocolates.” – E.J
Just one soul, yet so many truths to reveal about one self.
I’m simply saying.. it takes time to understand someone.
Minutes, days, years, decades.. yeah.
… but the process of it is the most intriguing.
p/s: This is how the hair colour actually looks like without sunlight. So, yeah, all those previous shots have had sunlight in it. I've never dyed my hair before.. and I want a haircut. :D Yes, it's the oversized shirt that I wore in the previous shot.
Happy Friday!
252 / 365
...a girl's best friend.
~Lorelei Lee, Gentlemen Prefer Blondes.
I've been on a movie binge lately. We saw "King's Speech", "RED", "Die Hard" and just finished "Salt". "King's Speech" so far has been most impressive from the batch of Oscar wannabes. Colin Firth is so damn good of an actor that he reportedly continued stuttering for two months after the movie, in which his character stutters terribly, has been finished.
The rest of them are just straight actions. "RED" is actually surprisingly not bad. Bruce Willis, John Malkovic (damn that guy's great), Morgan Freeman, Helen Mirren and a couple of others. the movie has some kick-ass funk tunes in the soundtrack. Being partial to funk I can't miss that.
Bruce Willis in RED prompted us to re-watch "Die Hard", the first one. You know, when the guy actually had hair. The movie is 23 yrs old, still looks good.
The last one is "Salt", which is a womanese for "Bourne". Some new actors, some more Angelina Jolie lips and hips, panties hung over the security camera and, above all, bad, Bad, BAD Russian language from the actors that are not Russian natives. Hell, with a budget like that I could teach Angelina Jolie to speak those four Russian phrases fluently.
Strobist setup:
* Sunpak 5000AF left @1/64 135mm
* Sunpak 5000AF right @1/64 135mm
* white sheet of paper as a diffuser bent over the bracelet
To see how simple it really is, see the strobist setup shot: click HERE
====Cobblepot Subway Station====
"Get away from him."
Flannegan smirks, admiring her makeshift costume. "Hello gorgeous, A for effort, F for execution. Oh boys!" He lets out a whistle, and on cue, rats come pouring through the walls towards her. Kate fires a warning shot, but, realising it's a waste of ammo, sets her sights back on Flannegan, shooting him squarely in the chest. The connection severed, the rats squeek away, back into the sewers where they came from. Flannegan mumbles "Come back, come-" before trailing off into unconsciousness.
Kate rushes to Batman's side, trying to silence his crying, then plunges a needle of adrenaline into his arm, jolting him awake. "Sorry."
Bruce sits up, back to business immediately. He doesn't know who this woman is, but, he also doesn't have the time for introductions. "Where are they-?"
"The guy in the rags? Must've gone before I got here"
"The children, he's got-"
"I know, I know. Just hold still," she says, applying antiseptic cream to his bite marks.
Bruce mutters in protest, before finally asking "Who are you?"
"I don't know yet, trial and error I suppose. But I'm here to help," she replies
"If you really want to help, you can start by ditching that," he responds, now on his feet.
Confused, Kate looks at her holster.
"I don't like guns." he explains, as he handcuffs Flannegan to a pipe.
"That gun just saved your life."
"And it could've just as easily taken his. You're an soldier, aren't you?"
"Was. Sargent Kate Ka-"
"No. I don't need your identity, that's how we end up with-"
"End up with what?" she asks.
Could it be? "Kate *Kane*?"
"Yes, why?"
Bruce smiles weakly to himself. Of course it'd be her. "Nothing," he responds, as he examines the Scarecrow's laboratory... The children, who took the children? He looks at the walls, across them are various formulas, essays and theories all linked to fear. On the table, there lies a shipping manifest Paris, it's cargo? A hundred wild mushrooms. Strange.
He opens a drawer, inside a letter. The recipient's name has been marked out, but it's been written by...
"Hellfern."
"Who's Hellfern?" Kate inquires.
"A Nazi. Figures... A master chemist, run into him before. Whoever this... Scarecrow is, he's learned from the very best..." He moves the letter away, and jolts back. "No."
It's a blueprint of Gotham General's ventilation systems... The kidnappings were only a teaser of what's to come. He pulls a camera from his belt, and hands it to Kate. "Send these to the GCPD. That madman's going to hit the maternity ward. Hundreds of newborns!"
"Wait, where the hell are you going?"
"To see if I can't get there first."
Batmobile's parked outside, must be how she found me. Clumsy... I jump in, and go over the files. "Master Bruce! Thank goodness you're alright. I've been trying to reach you all night!"
"I'm fine, Alfred. Had a run in with our kidnappers. I'm fine, but the ringleader escaped. Goes by Scarecrow. Don't worry, I know where he's going..."
"That's all well and good sir, but your vitals, they're still far too high... Can't you let the police handle this? We wouldn't want you to faaaaaaaail aaaaaaaagain wooooullllld weeeee?"
I pause. "Alfred, what did you say?"
"I said, surely the police can take care of this?"
I'm still not at my best, still hearing things...
"No, this maniac's got some kind of hallucinogen. I've seen it, Alfred, it's able to bring anyone's darkest fears and phobias to life. Anyone's."
I turn the corner.
"Now a scarecrow... He chose a scarecrow for a reason. Alfred, bring me up a list of families living in the rural areas of Gotham, cross referenced with students of Karl Hellfern... Any psychologists who specialise in fear."
Alfred sighs. He knows something's wrong. "One moment, sir. Here we are, one Doctor Crane, Jonathan Crane. Rather troubled upbringing, orphaned at birth, raised by his aunt. She died when he was a teenager- a rather grisly end at that..."
"Go on."
"She was pecked to death, by hundreds of... Crows. They never linked it to him, but later evidence seemed to suggest she beat him on a regular basis... A neighbor of theirs claimed she locked him in their family's aviary, on a nightly basis. She said she could hear the screams almost a mile away."
"So what happened next?"
"Crane left for college a day later, and, upon graduating, took up a role as a professor in psychology at Gotham University up until... One year ago. Reason for dismissal... ah. "Unorthodox and dangerous teaching methods."
"So he was testing his toxins on his own students..."
====Gotham General====
"Who are you, you can't be here!" an orderly yells, as the Scarecrow enters the maternity ward, smiling his Glasgow smile, and stretches out a bony finger. "Earl, stop him-"
"Hush little baby, don't say a word," he cackles, spraying the doctor, Earl with gas. "Momma's going to buy you a mockingbird..."
"Spiders! Spiders everywhere!" he screams, rolling on the ground, trying desperately to scratch them off.
"Arachnophobia. How... Boring," Crane says, disappointed, as he approaches the now cowering orderly. "How about you, my dear," he asks, a vial of toxins in his hand.
"Please," she's begging. "Please don't."
"Oh don't worry, there's nothing to fe-"
A batarang knocks the vial out of Crane's grip, and it falls to the floor.
"Get away from her."
Scarecrow laughs. "You're too late, Batman. My work is done. All that separates the newborns from their nightmares is this detonator."
Alfred's right... The GCPD *can* deal with the gas, but leaves me with Scarecrow. Have to keep stalling. "Don't."
"You know, we never finished our talk. So, tell me, what nightmares keep the Batman awake?"
The gas... I'm still... Keep focused on him, keep focused on-
-----------------
I'm here. Crime Alley. Dirty, damp, dark... My parents' blood runs along the ground, in the centre, is him. The gunman... Their killer.
No. No, it's not. I'm not in the alleyway, I'm in Gotham General.
He has a gun. A revolver. Mother is dead, Father is dead.
No. It's not him, it's the Scarecrow. They're gone, he's gone, I have to move past it. I need to move past it.
"You've failed us, Bruce," my father calls. "You killed us..."
It's just the toxin... Not in the alley, I'm in the hospital... Remember Bruce, it happened, they're gone, now fight it! Remember what you promised them, that's how you honour them, not by surrendering to these... Ghosts.
Remember. Remember. "By the spirits of my parents-"
"Bruce, this is your father!" the ghost screams.
"I will avenge their deaths-"
"Bruce, stop it now! You're too late," Mother echoes.
"by spending the rest of my life-"
"Stop it, I command you, I-"
"warring on all criminals."
-----------
The hospital. I'm in the hospital.
"Now... tell me, Batman, what did you see?" Scarecrow asks again.
So I tell him. "I see... A boy."
"A child-?" he inquires.
"An orphan. His parents, dead."
"Of course... Yes, of course it'd be your childhood... What do you see now? Failure, is that it? The fear of failing, of disappointing them?"
"Yes, I... I see bats, and alleyways, and I see birds."
For a second, Scarecrow falters. "Birds?!"
"An aviary. Filled with them, all of them angry, and hungry, pecking and knawing at this poor little boy... He calls for help, but no one listens... What do you suppose that means, Doctor?"
He's on edge... Push him too hard and he might press the detonator.
"How do you... How could you possibly-?"
"Because I'll tell you what I think-"
"Enough!" he cries.
"I see a sad, broken man, a man who shuts himself off from everyone else, a man burries himself in his work, all to find that final, pressing answer, the question that's followed him all his life... What drove his aunt to beat him?"
"I said enough-!" he bellows. "How... How are you doing this? How are you resisting my toxins!" His finger's on the detonator.
"I'm not."
His lip's trembling. "Impossible. Impossible!" With a click, he presses the detonator and... Nothing. Gordon... Gordon's done it. Realisation dawns on Crane's face, he runs at me, and then, a crunch. He's stepped on the vial, breaking it.
"No," he whispers, as he falls to his knees. Whatever he's seeing... It's too good for him.
"Now," I ask, pulling him up. "Where are the children?"
"T-the mushrooms... I needed the mushrooms for my research..." he stutters.
"The children, Crane, where are they?"
"S-so, s-so I gave him the children..."
"I need a name!"
"The Monk! The m-mad m-monk," he shrieks, as he returns to his nightmares.
Thank you to all who have made suggestions for improvement. I myself knew I had a better version inside of me and I hope this is it. All comments and critique very welcome and please let me know if this is better or worse.
Anthem for Doomed Youth
What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries for them; no prayers nor bells,
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs, -- -
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.
What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys, but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.
IC photo of Neith Petrova, Cocoon RP
Consider that pussy I gave you charity, for all the bitches that are scared of me
Can you really get down in the mud? You tellin' me you're scared of a little blood?
Bitch I'm f*king serious, I'm mean as shit, I'm not even on my period, take a dip, if there was blood you would feel it, I'd let it drip, it would just add to the feeling, an extra slip - slip - slip- slip - slide, push them panties to the side, my boyfriend is a vamp once a month I give him life, the lady is a tramp but does she make you wanna dive? I didn't mean Tekashi when I say I want 69.
Consider that pussy I gave you charity, for all the bitches that are scared of me
Can you really get down in the mud? You tellin me you're scared of a little blood?
B-b-bitch did I stutter? We can f*k without a rubber. I'm not trying to be a mother. I am your father, theres no other.
Consider that pussy I gave you charity, for all the bitches that are scared of me
Can you really get down in the mud? You tellin me you're scared of a little blood?
Stuttering Barred Frog (Mixophyes balbus), New England region, New South Wales.
A nicely marked but threatened species which once extended from northern NSW to Victoria. However it is rare and possibly extinct south of Sydney and its populations to the north are fragmented and affected by chytrid fungus. The bright blue in the upper iris helps to distinguish it from other barred frogs which occur across its range.
I found this male at night in the leaf litter along the banks of a creek. After a heavy downpour several male frogs emerged from the leaf litter and began calling perched high on granite boulders along the stream.
I’ve never been a fussy eater (apart from porridge, semolina, tapioca and rice pudding, that make me gag) but over the years I’ve come to quite dislike a “Chinese”.
Not that that worried me too much when I took a business trip to Shanghai some years ago. But it helped me form a view that just as the Chinese do so much the opposite to us, so it is that the Communist machine brain washed the peasant population that the delicacies are the chicken feet and wings, whilst reserving the juicy chicken breast, succulent thighs and tasty flesh for the ‘good’ senior Communist party members. I mean have you nibbled on the small callus-like pads on the base of a chicken foot? That’s the part ordinary Chinese will say is so delicious, but reminds me of chewing a fungus-riven old toe-nail.
I sat down for a meal at an authentic restaurant in Shanghai with our Chinese agent partners and whilst they translated the menu, largely let them decide on, and order the food. First course turned out to be some sort of delicately steamed catfish that they called ‘River Trout”. No, it didn’t have soft flavours like Scottish trout but instead reeked of thick and putrid mud. But it turned out to be the best par of the meal. Next up a football sized pot of bubbling soup was put in the centre of the table. I took my lead from the others and used my chop sticks to fish around for the “velly special vegetatables” they said were in it. I did eventually connect with something squishy solid and prised it up out of the pot, a wiggly strip of something, snookered between my two chopsticks. It didn’t look like any sort of “vegetatable” I had ever encountered elsewhere in the world but I was willing tyo give it the benefit of doubt and levered it across into my mouth. Hmmm. Not very legumative in my opinion, it was nothing more than an expensive strip of fat, that explained why it had wiggled as it hung from the chopstick. Well, it wouldn’t do me any harm if I cut down on a few calories so I continued to smile and chat as best I could. Fortunately a new dish was brought to us, another big bright red pot. I’m not sure how my host described it, but again we started fishing about in the pot’s murky depths with our chop sticks. I’m quite dextrous and soon had a big disc of something suspended from my chopsticks above the red liquid in the pot. I enquired in my best “I’m not really bothered what it is nonchalant style” WTF is that? At which my host paused his fishing and looked across at me, clearly searching for the correct English word. It didn’t come out easily, and with a stuttering Bl – bl-bl-bl-blur he eventually got it and blurted out “Bl-Bl-Blood!” Well, I’ve had black pudding at home, but somehow what I was seeing in front of me looked far less appetising. It meant that at the following meal I went vegetarian in a cafeteria type place where you chose plates of ready prepared food from out of clear plastic display cabinets. I’ll never forget the aspects of the meal that reminded me of an English garden: on one plate a blackbird lying on its side, dead, yellow beak and yellow legs, and on the next plate a miniature pyramid of Giza shape made out of fresh bright green hedge trimmings. Ya, see what I mean? Chinese food. It’s all about persuading the peasants that the rubbish parts are the best bits.
Had to pump up the ISO, because of poor light, but there was no doubting the excitement and drama, as Black Five 45407 thundered through our little station on a Liverpool to York Yuletide Special
Explored Dec 14th 2008 #90
The Last Express
Where did those years go, I often sigh
Since the last express cloaked in steam roared by
The smoke and stuttering noise of steam
Evokes a never ending dream
All now gone except a few remain
In preservation their only domain
Lime Street station still there proud
Quieter now, no smoking allowed
The turntable at the top of platform nine
A faded memory of days so fine
Where engines would turn for the journey home
And young boys collecting their numbers roam
The driver and fireman on the footplate await
The signal, the sign, we must not be late
Years of experience a formidable team
Shrouded now in a cloud of steam
The signal changes the whistle blows
The coal in the firebox brightly glows
The graceful movement as she pulls away
A green light showing the right of way
The passengers now in their seats sit back
Awaiting the sound of the clickity clack
They are off on their hols, away from their mates
Away from the boss and the factory gates
The seaside beckons, the excitement grows
To paddle in the sea with their lily white toes
And then suddenly, I realise
I awake from my dream and rub my eyes
I can never go back to those long gone days
Never to return to my youthful ways
When steam locomotives were my only passion
Numbers and names spoken parrot fashion
Youth and expectation were taken as read
Alas, long gone, that era is dead
A Stoddern
Causewayed enclosures
In this illustration, we see a foreground of sedentary locals (settled protagonists in the Neolithic revolution) gathering to watch and listen to the arrivals of Transport Dragons (vestige clans and groups, each of which retain movement within their distinct and logically contradictory collective mythologies). The local crofters listen to the songs, and perhaps see shadows of dancing. They will visit the circle over the coming week to either watch theatre, dance, song, technical demonstration or speech; to trade and even to witness to local judgements, as these 'ancients' attempt to retain hierarchy over the landscape that they have travelled and learned through great ages. Some have become saltimbanque, others trade raw or finished goods, some trade wisdom, some trade promise of protection from bandits or simply heavy lifting, and one gathering may differ qualitatively from another.
There are no shocks or surprises, and this is not an image of misunderstanding, implicit distrust and incomprehension – just two ways of being which probably had an significant amount of blur between. For example, Transport Dragons that made summer camps for several months (as was common in the Mesolithic) and sedentary crofters that retained a ritual memory of a past Transport Dragon and its qualities. Many new populations without a Transport Dragon mythology must also have existed.
Both 'styles' of being are in regular contact, synergy and, at times dispute. At a time when permanent fixtures and markers were increasingly impressed onto the landscape, the Transport Dragons joined the spirit of the age and turned many of their regular meeting spots into a series of concentric ripples in the Earth's surface. Today we term the category of British site a 'Causewayed Enclosure'.
Causeways tend to be raised and go from an A to a B, and I have never understood why the mounds should not be the 'causeways', rather than the breaches for which it is said. In this illustration the earthworks are projected as 'Pedestal Rings', reminding all that even when the 'Transport Dragon' was not locally present their undulation on the landscape would not forget, and I will continue to use my descriptive term for this earthwork style.
The covered frame structures I term 'Transport Dragons' (features of Homo Sapiens that were so important in helping him navigate through extremes - for example Ice Age and mega predator) had become increasingly meaningless as the Neolithic package tied man to a fixed pastoral landscape. Despite the incongruity of just such a protective carry device in increasingly mild conditions, and without great predators, a mix of inertia, stubbornness and applied speciality will have kept a vivid percentage of their number in movement - in movement and aside today's archaeological record. Nodes where the new generation of pastoral crofters could meet these applied residuals from man's deep past being a way for the new and the old to retain dialogue and mutual support.
In central Europe, variants of Causewayed Enclosures can be called 'Rondels' (70-110m in diameter) and we can easily put forward a hypothesis. Between 4900 and the limits of 4800 BC, mutually beneficial fixed points on the landscape were recognised for meetings between sedentary populations and residual Transport Drangons, and these areas were carved and built into the landscape as 'Pedestal Circles'. In central Europe, sedentary Neolithic populations finally arrived with speed, and took over prime spots on riverbanks and aside lakes. As these new locals, with their striking wooden 'long houses' and 'linear band keramik' (LBK) turned clan allotment into local power, they would dispute the importance of the decisions taken by the Transport Dragon collectives, and as the free passage aside the rivers stuttered to a close, with the rapidly increasing number of LBK homesteads and fences, the Transport Dragons failed to witness mutual trust, exchange or benefit. By 4700 BC, the peoples of the Rondels were categorically rejecting token LBK advances. LBK were seen to be clearly undermining the greater laws of 'mythical' people, and landscape, and they could even be seen seeking trade and ideas from the river's flow rather than from its littoral, the inland flux and detailed landscape knowledge. The bounce and chatter from the now decimated littoral highways had all but gone from central Europe and beyond. A rupture of confidence and goodwill had occurred. To resolve the rupture, the Rondels became 'military'; the Transport Dragons were converted into fighting 'machines', and the long house LBK culture was purged. The Transport Dragons had fire power, defence, combined raw power and otherworldly surprise. Some evidence of fire is always to be expected, as things can burn, but some of the evidence of burn from this period may be from warfare as this became the period of Kilianstadten, Herxheim and Talheim, known today as perhaps the first real evidence of war between man.
Currently theories try to believe that the LBK auto-destructed, with hypothetical arguments that seem to require an a priori that there was a sudden loss of both IQ and common sense. Not easy to imagine in a society still dominated by seasons. The auto destruction was said to have been powered by younger brothers moving on to find new land, and that the point of saturation 'auto exploded' the whole social network, unthreading the LBK's sense of social stability, function and 'culture'. This same principle of younger male sibling expansion can be seen to have pushed farmsteads to well above the 1000m altitude in mountain ranges such as the Pyrenees. This example includes descriptions from living memories and helps account for some of the derelict high altitude farms. Severe weather, every few years, caused rupture and failure - real local level problems, but no auto destruction of the whole rural lifestyle: and land opportunities were still fertile back during the latter LBK periods, certainly for minds open to a little imagination within demographics that were still very low for the species - so this hypothesis of a population saturation tipping point that fed into a total auto-destruction seems to carry a great weight on very thin ice. The argument is explained on a Youtube by Stefan Milo: www.youtube.com/watch?v=OF664B27aBo
Returning to the Causewayed Enclosures of Britain, and we see again that they were a feature of early Neolithic interface, which for this geography corresponded to a building frenzy within the slot of time from 3700-3625 BC (precise dates from Professor Alasdair Whittle, of Cardiff University) so perhaps just 400 years after the arrival of the Neolithic package, and at the very least 100 examples of earthwork being built over a period of just 75 years. Here in Britain, turning flat meeting-grounds into varietal 'Rondels' might have been seen as a way of communicating that either 'we' get to keep littorals free, movement free, trade and respect for our mythical Dragons, or, our earthwork loci will turn against you. People told each other the stories of life, and in the ages prior to writing, stories could last - including stories of a first 'war'! It might be that from 3625 BC, more neutral gathering sites were favoured, with a sudden agreed change opening curtains on the rise of the cursus (see drawing linked below), henge, stone circle, and long barrow. For stability, it may have been that the standing stones of later circles had a preferred flexibility to represent both new leaderships of sedentary arrivals, new leaderships of new Transport Dragons, and older leaderships from traditional Transport Dragons and post Mesolithic neo-sedentarism.
With today's internet there are plenty of ways of bathing in visions of Prehistory, and one statement offered as a 'given fact' can be juxtaposed here to see if slots into our hypothesis and puzzle:
“The Stone Age was a series of tiny city states run by oppressive class of totalitarian priests” Historia Civilis.
"?!" AJ
A few words on details and form: one circle could gain new outer circles of 'pedestals', with this increase in size over time simple showing how success breeds success. The site at Whitehawk in Sussex appears to have finished with four concentric rings of pedestals that seem to be tailored for different sizes of Transport Dragon: from the self referential neo one-man Medjed-esque/Bosch-esque/ jester-esque, all the way up to long walking trains of linked 'wagon' sections. The ditches (key to making the pedestal), may also have served a formal taboo. Anyone approaching from a ditch (the exterior side) might put themselves in danger, with the two ends guarded by hospitality and protocol, and the inner side of the Transport Dragon rolled up with attention facing inwards for interaction. With some late Transport Dragons dedicated to trade of goods, just such a taboo would make sense. There is evidence of year to year upkeep of the pedestal and ditch. In good order, rain would run away from the base of the Transport Dragon, and in conditions of high wind, the transport dragons could be walked to the centre for mutual protection. Some examples (especially Rondels) may have had wooden central palisades, and functions from stopping song from being 'blown away' to providing a sense of dedicated space. Occasionally ditches had stone walls reinforcing their structure (French examples) and some of these were in use for such a long time that phase changes may have occurred. As might be expected, a general detritus of life was found in the ditches.
If we were to criticise my drawing, the tree pole is too large and some of the gaps are a little large and the exterior ditches are not greatly obvious. The mix of late Transport Dragons also seems to be too varied, with a Sphinx-like formal mythological example aside a Trojan-horse like 'pro domestication' wicker and stretch model, some phantasmagorical examples and some more measured and functional examples perhaps closer to early bronze age carts.
With Causewayed Enclosures predating by decades the long barrows (for example West Kennet), and by over 1000 years Woodhenge, they are important early earthworks for an Isle that went on to deliver a festival of diverse henges, circles, cursus, mound and enclosure.
AJM 07.12.21
Olney State Forest, The Watagans, New South Wales, Australia
Vulnerable
Contact me on jono_dashper@hotmail.com for use of this image.
Yesterday, 23 April 2016, I joined a few friends for a walk at Inglewood Brd Sanctuary. I only took about 10 photos and this is basically the only one that I will be keeping. Posting it just for the record of where I went that day. Such dismal weather - more like winter, especially when my vehicle got a light dusting of sleet/snow on the drive home. I knew the weather would be no good for photos, but I wanted to spend some a bit of time with firends. As well as the leisurely walk, we also went to the Blackfoot Diner for lunch. Always an enjoyable experience.
"A rich, russet-and-gray bird with bold streaks down its white chest, the Song Sparrow is one of the most familiar North American sparrows. Don’t let the bewildering variety of regional differences this bird shows across North America deter you: it’s one of the first species you should suspect if you see a streaky sparrow in an open, shrubby, or wet area. If it perches on a low shrub, leans back, and sings a stuttering, clattering song, so much the better." From AllAboutBirds.
www.allaboutbirds.org/guide/Song_Sparrow/id
Today, the weather has been very unpleasant, too, but didn't stop nine of us from going on a day trip SE of Calgary, to the Frank Lake area. Will post a photo from there tomorrow morning with a species list of 56 bird species seen!