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Quite inadequate, awkward, shy and stuttering.
Bitting his lips til they bleed and sitting with tennis shoes on the couch.
...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 now 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.
(Wilfred Owen, Anthem for Doomed Youth)
Washpool National Park, New South Wales.
For use of this photo please contact clancywildlife@gmail.com
stuttering (2003 - 2013), an award-winning work, sees movements triggering a multitude of previously invisible buttons projected on the wall. If you move quickly the piece is saturated with a cacophony of visual and aural noise; if more slowly, you can experience individual phrases. The piece asks us not to interact, but to perform embodied listening.
"É preciso liderança para enfrentar o medo de uma nação. É preciso amizade para enfrentar a si próprio."
Esta é a tagline do novo cartaz de divulgação de The King's Speech ("O Discurso do Rei"), filme que conta a história do reinado de George VI ("Bertie") — pai da rainha Elizabeth II —, monarca britânico que, apesar de sofrer de gagueira, liderou seu país após a grave crise da abdicação, que quase desestabilizou a Inglaterra durante o difícil período que antecedeu a entrada do país na 2ª Guerra Mundial.
Sinopse do filme:
Bertie (Colin Firth) se vê diante de um grande dilema ao ter de assumir o poder após a morte de seu pai, George V (Michael Gambon), e a abdicação de seu irmão, Eduardo VIII (Guy Pearce). Em virtude da gagueira, enfrentar um microfone para fazer pronunciamentos à nação representa um desafio maior do que estar no front de batalha. O ano era 1936 e o Reino Unido vivia um momento crítico de sua história. Preocupada com os percalços que a gagueira traria a Bertie no exercício do poder, sua esposa (Helena Bonham) resolve pedir ajuda a um fonoaudiólogo nada ortodoxo, o australiano Lionel Logue (Geoffrey Rush). Baseado na história real do Rei George VI, o drama nos mostra os bastidores da difícil e desesperada luta do monarca para reencontrar a própria voz e evitar a renúncia.
Veja o trailer legendado do filme.
NECK
I touched her on the back of her neck
with such tenderness
that her skin kissed my palm
with a singular abandon
DANCE
she brushed her hair
stopped
stared
sung into the brush
cried
and started all over again
some kind of imbalance
and talent
part of me
wanted to help
part of me
wanted to dance
OUT
take me out
through the door
into the street
where the yellow lines
never meet
tell me then of rules
and compliance
and I’ll speak
of loneliness
and self violence
Women
be a gentleman
open doors for women
treat a woman better than you would a man
don’t cuss around a woman
make women feel special because they are
appreciate don’t salivate
no means no
these are the things my family taught me about women
they were right
if only society were in agreement with me
alas
EIGHT
legs heavy
Everest stairs
leading to my fate
8 to reach the top
8 to be done with it
a confrontation
that will lead to sadness
8 a vertical eternity
or at least so it seems
SCOOP
yesterday
you weren’t here
I felt
not hollow
but as if
i was being hollowed out
the cosmic melon scoop
KISS
remember your lips
swollen
with biology
hormonal ingenuity
your mouth was open
saying something stutter-rush
in anatomical resistance
something love lodged in your esophagus
but despite that
I believe you enjoyed yourself
BEDTIME
imaginations lover
dive below the covers
hold your breath
let excitement shudder
whisper silent goodbyes
to your land locked mother
as you swim the warm blanket’s currents
of color and wide wonder
IQ
the world did not stop turning
my IQ simply bottomed out
when I realized
I might have a chance
"love you make me"
to make you love me
lunar eyescape
ahh to walk
upon her eye
in its hazel foam fog
til i reached its black brine
through its tumble jungle bog
then slowly
loose my mind
after reveling in it all
BASTARD
she opened 15 mason jars
and cried in each one
for later she thought
preserves
ENTER
all the open doors are behind me now
what happens next…
metaphorical breaking and entering
what fun
POSTS
behind the fence
between the slats
a forbidden
but tasty past
STARS
last night
all the stars were out
even the once human
those souls this earth
with all its riches
could not contain
neither the saint
or the sinner
more frequency
more sound
those who are bent to believe
in all sorts of madness
the possibility of aquatic bees
peering as they will
on mortals
especially those in love
there is a kinship
in that time
for cautious considerates
turn to unihibititsts
exposing
the waves in their lengths
transparent flames all
consuming each other
in a passionate free for all
End
Winter’s scissors
will sever our cord
cold
devoid of pain
and beyond old
Cold
I’ve touched your soul
tundra well
cold hole
frostbite
you have an old magic
called apathy
I hate yellow flowers
the hall was lined with empty frames
60’s wall paper
the orange and greens screams
white frames
square forty by forty
ornate
orange blossom motive with teeth
spaced evenly
and one empty door frame
to an empty room
sun creeping in
STAIRS
she looked down the stairs
rooms
voices
mingling forming
curiosity
so real it was like a friends whisper
get a little closer
it was the after time
after they put her to bed
she shouldn’t be up
the after world
was pulling her down
one step after another
RAYS
she saw the last rays of the sun
swim under sand
to hunt and hide
till morning
AGE
I can feel your hand wither
the bones beneath
veins bas relief
so stretched
though too
I can feel your soul
resounding bell
giant
endless well
your a planet trapped inside a
crumbling shell
grandmother
FIVE
Excerpt from a meeting with my inner child
found him tied to a tree
binds cutting
five
had to be five
injured and scared
released him, held him
everything will most certainly not be alright
but I’m here
I’m not going anywhere
No one has ever made me so mad as myself
in light of that self acknowledgment
I’ve never wanted to hurt myself
no matter how stupid I got
Its just that I love me
you don’t go around hurting the ones you love
that’s what an asshole does
APPLES
at first I believed
myself to be the apple of your eye
but that was clearly impossible
for in the light
your pupils are slits
black daggers both
RIDE
You can trade lives
people float in and out
plastic Jesus on your dashboard
just tradition
not religion
and your cute
we’re talking
we’re not falling though
just two strangers
riding with Jesus
he’s wearing flowly blue
GREY DARK
The grating removed
peer down
into grey dark
a foggy dark
that turns men into beasts
climb down
be mad with us
the unsavory
but always sweet
HAPPY EASTER
crawled inside
the blood hall
died inside its walls
came walking out the other side
with both the great
and the small
BROKEN
I never did like the lullaby
when the bough breaks
I cried when they sang it,
so here is a short poem
to celebrate my dislike
BROKEN
the dawn broke
the bough broke
I’m broken
BIRDS
I climbed the spinal staircase
to feed the birds of your mind
flutter flutter
feathers
chirp
noisy beggars
JUPITER
A ball of magical gas
with rings and pretty things
in orbit about your stormy skin
PRIDE DUTY HONESTY
three tarnished copper eggs
sickly green shells
they use to be beautiful
pale cream
conjoined bells
but no one spread their feathers
none to shelter from the weather
birds inside
died
flightless
discarded in the heather
The Girl
Who was that girl
strapped to your arm
with thorny ropes?
Translucent skin
the nights own hair
and a tousled stare
I saw you whisper magic
mumble in shapes and symbols
the old rhythms
you led her
it might have been
a walk
but I saw in part
the divine dance
from that other time
you paraded her
while she smiled a mask
the beauty of that pretense
blinded the rest
I saw her tragedy
is that mother?
I wondered
in her earthly guise…
dear brother
BYE
in the middle
of that disconnect
discontent
when all your tears had be spent
I just wretched
wiped my mouth
screamed aloud
buried my love six feet down
walked out
not another sound
COLD
I just stare
the dreamsicle melts
melts orange
my hand covered completely in soft tangerine hues
encased a prehistoric mosquito in amber
cold sunlight drips from my hand
all five of my minds speak in stereo
the little blonde girl is beautiful
FERTILITY GOD
The black fled
but left behind
its inky scrawl
the paper carved
with a dark chisel
beneath natures green halls
the absence of day
the shunning of light
may your godhood shrivel
in manhood’s rite
a curse
cut in ancient shorthand
from a bitter woman barren
2 days before her last breath
BREATHE
inhale
exhale
something so commonplace
except when you do it
then its Tsiolkovsky’s concert for the cello
stare
listen
feel
think
I’m too young for this
MAGIC
glistening
glitter shine
the crunchy marshmallow
the naturally sweet lime
we so want
Mr bubble to be real
to come floating up out of the tub
to speak to us
in his rub a dub
we want magic
HEART
beneath and under her beauty
elegant wrappings
her heart was hollow
bird bones
fragile
built to fly
SENSE
hypersensitive
on the edge
skin thin
soul stretched it’s a drum head
don’t speak at me
mouth leak about me
20 thousand rubber-bands
snap
talk to me
FIRST KISS
kissed her by the rock
where the river fell and rolled
wrote something romantic
left it on the road
went back without her
went back to see
but there was nothing left
only phantoms
transparent memories
KITCHEN
cabinet doors open
tomatoes cut but still together
wine bottle not quite empty
vinegar and oil out of place
scissor and knife side by side
tea towel reflecting in stainless
plastic bags covering, hanging from the fridge
The thing about Julie
that really made me wonder
is how the lies in her eyes
looked just as beautiful as the
the truth in Michelle’s
MOMENT
exposed
laced with lust
I shy away
devour you
at the same moment
in time
my soul paper starts tearing
lengthwise
SKIN
once I slipped on your skin
and saw the world through your yellows and blues
its so much brighter than mine
it hurt my eyes
a note to the social butterfly
from the recluse in your life
the auditorium is filled
mounted speakers
with their dark woven faces
echo the podiums call
then I see
her ear, her hair
and I am so far away from her
separated by
mountain peaks of broken glass
that rise like pre-edenic giants
from the lonely neurons
that control my feelings of loss
NIGHT SKY
if I swore by the night
that pervasive darkness
and the shadows therein
if I promised their diamond studded sky
and the velvet that they lie upon
do you think I could kiss Jolene
SMALL STUFFED ANIMAL
Found it there
crushed on the pillow
flat
stretched
unformed
a small squeaky voice
terrorizes your mind
”help me please”
Lonely
a big red balloon
filled with he-li-um
so others can smile
you deflate me
MOM
pretty lady
in your pink and green
matching hand bag
perched there before me
I noticed
that one of those laugh lines
around your eyes
is definitely mine
HURT
If I could just weep while I sleep….
do you mind crying on my face tonight?
I can’t do both
GENTLE
my eyes are beds to the world
dark walnut frame
white duvet
black satin pillow case
where the tired might find rest
LUIGI'S HORSES
listen
the boxes of soul light turn
carousel speed
wooden steeds
painted on the inside
seem to gallop in place
it’s life
it’s going nowhere
and desperately wants
to be real
CEREMONY OF TRAVEL
vincentpettavel:
Up.
Pack.
Eat.
Leave.
Glorious routine in glorious unfamiliarity,
experiencing the culture shock,
or shock at the
lack of culture,
immersed in a world so
alien,
yet connected to reality by the
web of media.
Speaking of
‘Home’
and meaning only a bed.
Not thinking about those who once mattered,
feeling remorse when their face crops up
in sudden thoughts.
simply great
TILE DREAM
tiles on the ceiling
tiles within tiles
reddish pink patterns
rectangles forming thick lines
but from the bed
with the stove at the end
they appeared blue
so you got up
to look anew
SUMMER
givethekidabreak:
She flew kites in the summer
Wearing her favorite
Mustard colored shoes
Carefree slipping from her hair
Down to her shoulders
Wriggling their way to her fingers
That held on to strings she was sure
Would never leave her grasp.
this is really good esp how carefree becomes control
y
SHEETS
body
one million sheets of white paper wet
dizzy yet
tired
pressing on my eyes
I see light lines
luminosity in an otherwise
……………………………..darkened space
MY LOVE
there is something jet black in my soul
my love
Jacob ladder strand
wish it was mine
a bit of my sin soil
piece of my dark
i could make it
right with my Maker
set it alight with His spark
but it’s a foreign body my love
foreign rails and rungs
from you
US
what is between us is more than air
it’s dust and love
pain and despair
but what is in us is richer still
it’s the cold calculating hardness
of winter’s sudden chill
it is duty
which keeps us bound
keeps the between alive
and us invariably sound
RACE DAY
eyes squint
sneaker soles stick
on the hot black top
back drop: a cooler full of sun
race day
water ice
ice water hydrate
win
photo finish
finished
sweat slick
I am the sea
Hot Lanta
TWENTY TWENTY
after our separation
I was left with a lace sleeve
you a star just to the right of the moon
back then
when we gave them
we understood forever
twenty twenty
and blind
SADNESS
amid the slippery spaces
of our touch and tell
hair bound in fingers
and strewn clothes as well
there is an inexplicable sadness
a melancholy only heard in our sighs
OTHER
I drew close
painting in an art musuem
an etheral piece
delicate shades of blue
I found my self in
inner contemplation
whether she was a human at all
she was far too interesting
in appearance and poise
for something as crude
as mortaility
I drew closer still
DOLLAR
burn little light
burn for a dollar
I don’t want to wake
to see the groping hand
feel the holler collar
I don’t want to shake
in the night queens parlor
JOURNEY
camper van
silent sadness
hung like a broken disco ball from the roof
touching everyone with it’s unsparkle unshine
she ‘s gone
I whispered
move on
and tugged the gloom even tighter about me
MIRROR
my eyes on fire
everything smells like mirror glass
I’ll not let you
crawl through my skin again
I can’t handle
the dry numbness
nether again
AWOKEN
ting
glass rain drops
fall
in a coffee drip rhythm
score
all the while
my mind is too big
for my eyes
LINES
cracks feel like lines gone wrong
jagged little liars
full of spite and scorn
cracks in my skin on the your floor
they read red
they scream mending
but they only widen more
HEART
the gate to the left of purple
lies a stainless steel locket
that was once made of flesh
much like my heart
reach down below the pain to find it
the library project is a project creating a subtle dialogue about the issue of giving,lending and taking.as most of my pieces have a lifespan of a stutter in the street (either because of collectors or weather or the street cleaners), i thought i would try to embrace it and play around with the circumstances. before placing the pieces on the surface, i wrote "i let you borrow my heart for a while,let others borrow it as well", and then placed the piece over the writing,covering it.
the pieces in this series are applied with double sided tape (which can be easily removed) with some unpeeled scraps of tape on the cardboard left for the borrower to replace anwhere.i think its great if someone wants to take it home, but it raises the conflict of the fact that its in the street for the art to be shared with the people using it.therfore, whoever dispatches the piece can replace it in it original location, or even better, a new location,making him/her part of the arts existence and making it even more part of the collective reality than it was before.
**Geek Village Wintertales Hasselt**
More info & videos about our 360° videobooth + our tiny bonus photobooth
360 video samples: on our Instagram / our Tiktok
French promotion card by Metropole Le Palais du Cinéma. Publicity still for L'ami de la Famille/A Friend of the Family (Jacques Pinoteau, 1957).
French comic actor and musician Darry Cowl (1925-2006) appeared in more than 150 films, often as a clown with a chronic stutter. Many of his comedies were not worth his talents, but at the end of his life, he made a glorious come-back and won the César twice.
For more postcards, a bio and clips check out our blog European Film Star Postcards.
The new Yuzu Emulator update has made Pokemon Sword and Shield on PC 100% playable! This means without fast load of shader cache, mild to none stutter and smooth gameplay. Watch my video and see for yourself the amazing performance boot of Pokemon SWSH on PC.
Pokemon SWSH XCI/NSP ROM: bit.ly/pokeswshyuzupc
(Will update this link when Isle of Armor will be out)
Official Yuzu Emulator: yuzu-emu.org/
System Requirements:
CPU: Atleast 4 cores (Higher Core count = better performance)
GPU: atleast GTX 1060 or amd equivalent
RAM: 8GB RAM (16GB is recommended)
Storage: atleast 1TB since Switch games are large in file size
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#pokemonswordandshield #pokemonswshexpansionpass #pokemonswordandshielddlc
After a stutter at the start of the climb up to Slochd Summit Black 5 No.44871 puts in a forgiving performance as it nears the top with The Great Britain VI.
My music was stuttering every minute and it took me all Saturday to track down the problem. Apparently built-in wireless on a Mac Pro running 64-bit Vista and playing music don't mix.
Técnicas modernas de neuroimagem estão revelando as bases neurais da gagueira e abrindo as portas para que a neurociência finalmente comece a entendê-la: bit.ly/bases-neurais
AMERICAN INSTITUTE FOR STUTTERING THIRD ANNUAL BENEFIT GALA
JUNE 8th, 2009
Tribeca Rooftop
2 Desbrosses St
New York, NY 10013-1704
(212) 625-2600
Photo Credit – Steve Eichner
NEW YORK, NEW YORK - JULY 11: <> attend the 2022 Freeing Voices, Changing Lives Gala at Guastavino's on July 11, 2022 in New York City. (Photo by Jamie McCarthy/Getty Images for American Institute for Stuttering)
and it's humbling
this pain you feel inside
and it's stuttering
these words that I must try
This photo took me to Texas State VASE, and got a Gold Seal Award.
From stuttering to therapy for stroke survivors, the WSU Speech and Language Clinics provide speech-language services for community members of all ages.
Learn more: www.clas.wayne.edu/CSD/Wayne-State-Speech-and-Language-Ce...
From stuttering to therapy for stroke survivors, the WSU Speech and Language Clinics provide speech-language services for community members of all ages.
Learn more: www.clas.wayne.edu/CSD/Wayne-State-Speech-and-Language-Ce...
the library project is a project creating a subtle dialogue about the issue of giving,lending and taking.as most of my pieces have a lifespan of a stutter in the street (either because of collectors or weather or the street cleaners), i thought i would try to embrace it and play around with the circumstances. before placing the pieces on the surface, i wrote(for the first edition, but later came up with alternate sentences) "i let you borrow my heart for a while,let others borrow it as well", and then placed the piece over the writing,covering it.
the pieces in this series are applied with double sided tape (which can be easily removed) with some unpeeled scraps of tape on the cardboard left for the borrower to replace anwhere.i think its great if someone wants to take it home, but it raises the conflict of the fact that its in the street for the art to be shared with the people using it.therfore, whoever dispatches the piece can replace it in it original location, or even better, a new location,making him/her part of the arts existence and making it even more part of the collective reality than it was before.
Damian Rigaud shifts looking up through his hair ... his blue eyes narrow.
Rena Mayne stepped into the back with the young, blushing officer, her finger traced his ear when they stopped and she whispered softly, convincing the boy to leave her alone. She gave him the sweetest smile and murmured, "Call me." as he stuttered and backed out.
Damian Rigaud watches the cherry leave. "I hope you brought me a bag... I think I need to vomit after that display."
Rena Mayne's smile faded as she leaned against the wall across from his cell. "A girl has to use the tools she has. I'm quite adept with mine. Shame to waste them, don't you think?"
Damian Rigaud chuckles harshly "Fugu... I think is a more accurate description."
Rena Mayne tilted her head and looked at him through the bars. She was determined to stay calm. "Fugu?"
Damian Rigaud looks up. "Japanese blowfish... a delicacy.. but the organs contain a deadly poison.. if its not prepared right.. " spreads his hands with a cold smile. "The japanese have an expression ..'I want to eat fugu, but I don't want to die'."
Damian Rigaud levels his gaze at you "So I think you can see the comparison I draw with dealing with you.."
Rena Mayne smiled faintly, rather liking being compared to a poison but not so much a blowfish. Too many conotations. She was going to ignore the insult, until he continued. "Awww...you want me. But you are afraid I'll be the death of you."
IM: Aravasha Yiyuan: I do hope you will allow me to attempt to stab you if given a chance :)
Damian Rigaud smiles coldly. "My desires for you have changed... dramatically..."
Rena Mayne raised an eyebrow. "You used to want me...now you want me dead?" she began to twirl a dark lock around a finger as she watched him. It was like teasing a tiger in a cage, she knew better, but couldn't resist.
Damian Rigaud shakes his head "No.. I am not one to waste an oppurtunity.. and death for you.. would be a most undeserved fate." Damian Rigaud looks you in the eye "Its a kindness you do not deserve."