View allAll Photos Tagged unhinged
I often think I am a little unhinged mentally, I guess we all are sometimes.
Pretty long Photoshop job, used a tutorial as a base and just went a bit mad. Then a bit more mad. Then a little bit more mad.
Les Ami/es de la Place 4 gig - Liege's d.i.y hardcore punk collective (1990 - 2001) ivolving people members of Nabate records, local bands Hiatus, Unhinged, ...
6.19.2009
Urbex in Gary, IN with Terry - powerbooktrance
2 Cities. 2 Days. 2 Guys. 2 Cameras. All urbex.
Unhinged gatchas:
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Port%20Seraphine/194/131/28
HAIR: /Wasabi Pills/ Princess Mesh Hair - Licorice
SKIN: *League* Isla Pale Natural Black
EYES: .ID. COTN v2 / Mesh Eyes / Twilight /
MAKEUP: PMD - Thalassa purple - Blue @ Unhinged
TEETH: ~Mynerva~Bunny Teeth
LASHES 1：[LeLutka]-2011 lashes/natur/
LASHES 2：PMD - The skully lashes 1 @ Unhinged
EARS: [][]Trap[][] [ni.Ju] Gelf Ears Pierced
TATTOO: AITUI - Heart
I could love others
but you are where I want to be.
It's kinetically chemical,
like hormones and pheramones.
I crave you like I crave my favorite past time.
You don't make me smile sometimes.
You make me smile eternally.
It's not that the threading
of my clothing becomes
unhinged in your presence.
It's just you, being a force so strong.
I just want to occupy your mind,
more than not.
I want to be in your arms constantly.
I want to kiss you.
The taste of your mouth in mine intoxicates me.
It incites flavors of
vanilla & peaches of
wine and lust of
passion and love.
I can't get enough
when I'm with you and
when we're apart of course
I miss and want you.
The mere thought of you
torments my conciousness.
I could love others,
but you are where I want to be.
It's kinetically chemical,
like hormones and pheramones.
I crave you like I crave my favorite past time.
You don't make me smile sometimes.
You make me smile eternally.
I keep distractions around me.
I keep up other attractions
because you, in my thoughts daily, all day
will surely undo me.
You really are unaware of the hold
you have on me;
what you do to me.
When your not next to me
I'm connectedly, collectively yours.
The others don't worry me,
yours or mine.
When we are togther, alone
they fade to black.
I mean floetically speaking,
you are single-handedly master of my desires
Ruthless as you are,
I bow before you,
with myself as the offering.
You see, I could love others
but you are where I want to be.
It's kinetically chemical,
like hormones and pheramones.
I crave you like I crave my favorite past time.
You don't make me smile sometimes.
You make me smile eternally.
I am not incomplete, but you
fortify me.
You make me new & wholly made.
Without the you in me, I yield little
and am void of inspiration.
Every pen stroke
has your name inked in it
and with every rhythmic beat
of my vessel, I bleed love for you
even though I could love others.
You are where I want to be.
We are kinetically chemical.
Your hormones.
My pheramones.
You are my favorite past time.
You make me smile sometimes
but you keep me smiling eternally.
Eternally...
Eternally...
Eternally...
~Collab with a writer on a site i belong to~
Written by T~Nut Butta
In the year 1923, the then un-named giant robot landed in the Pacific Ocean near the long-forgotten Dino Island. It created a tsunami and unhinged the island from the Earth's crust and as such the land began to sink. The robot was first sighted by nearby French sailors, who upon seeing the giant gray being arise from the water, tried to describe the being the best way they could through their wireless telegraph: they named it the Steel Colossus. Johnny Thunder and his Adventurers crew went looking for this great metal being after saving as many dinosaurs as possible from the sinking primeval island, but never saw it, as it was walking along the seafloor towards the South American coastline to gather information on the dominant beings of Earth, also known as Humans.
After staying relatively hidden in various secluded places around the globe for around a year and a half, the Steel Colossus was finished reading the minds off local people for information on humans as a species: Our past, our present as of 1924, our origin, and our many languages, along with defenses, politics, and technology. After gathering all that intelligence, the Steel Colossus headed to the North Pole to transmit the required information to it's home planet using a faster-than-light sub-dimensional beacon. (Basically, a fancy radio) That is just about when a major solar storm hit the Earth, with the radiation hitting the atmosphere of the Earth and scrambling the outgoing signal into nonsense.
Now the garbled signal was received by the home base, and as a precaution, the Iron Giant was dispatched as fast as possible to earth. (That would take it nearly 35 years for it to get there at all possible speed, which would require it to refuel once arriving on Earth, which is why the Iron Giant was at the power plant at the begging of the movie, whereupon it's memory was scrambled by the high-voltage electricity)
After sending the garbled message and being struck by lightning as a result of the solar storm, the Steel Colossus was temporarily incapacitated. It was then discovered at the northern tip of Greenland by Dr. Harold Wormwood and brought back in many pieces to his hidden laboratory in New Jersey, where he ran test after test on the alien visitor. By 1925, the mad scientist-type Doctor Wormwood had the reassembled and repaired robot's power source nearly unlocked, and was preparing to restart the being when Lord Sam Sinister came upon rumors of the robot and wanted it for his own nefarious desires, with Johnny Thunder close on his heels!
(In reality, this is a heavily modified version of Hachiroku24's Iron Giant model, that has a giant staff as a weapon and an entirely new head. I am writing a backstory for the model with inspiration coming from the BIONICLE Generation 1 story-line with the Mata-Nui Robot, the Great Beings and so on. You can see Hachiroku24's original model here: www.flickr.com/photos/91426193@N02/40096928715/in/faves-5... )
If you have any comments on this account please feel free to share This was a very strange household even by Aussie standards.
I am house-sitting a menagerie in a suburb of Brisbane. The family is off on holiday for three weeks leaving me and some others to look after everything. I’ve retired to the pub to collect my thoughts (I should really have collected my bags as well whilst I was at it) ...
Christ, what a family I’ve just landed myself with! Both kids, Lucy and David, have high functioning Asperger’s syndrome. The mother, Svetlana, must be close because her mother, the granny, is extreme Asperger’s and might phone us over the next three weeks even though she’s been told not to because the family are going away. Something to look forward to.
One of their dogs has a dodgy stomach and is liable to pool the floor with diarrhoea, another has brittle bone disease and is suffering from a nutritional disorder (they think it might be a ‘special needs’ dog), another has epilepsy for which it needs valium (or ‘if it looks like she’s going into a coma zen call a taxi and take her to ze vets’). The fourth dog just continuously humps one of the others. I’ll have what he’s on, please. I’ll look at his fodder when I get back.
My ‘bedroom’ is a respite centre for one of their treasured cats (they have umpteen) and her kitten and they stay in my room overnight. Consequently it smells like a cathouse. Also, I was told, I might ‘like to put zem in zer cages at night because zey like to sleep on Lucy’s head. Zis is her room.’ What an attractive proposition. Something else to look forward to. Oh what fun.
My room consists of a camp-bed with a mattress thinner than a Pizza Hut pizza. And that’s it. Apart from the cat cages. Oh, and did I mention the smell? The girl (11) not only suffers from Asperger’s but she has a dust allergy and so furniture is kept to a minimum (and yet the house is as dusty as the outback). The cats, apparently, have been bred to be non-allergenic (is that even possible?) so they don’t contribute to the distress. Not that their contribution would make a blind bit of difference anyway.
Svetlana very kindly asked me if I needed blankets and I said that I didn’t know how cold it got and whether or not the one on my ‘bed’ would be enough. She said, ‘Ah, zat isn’t a blanket, it’s a cover for ze underneath.’ So, I thought, I have no mattress, no sheets or blankets ... Lovely. ‘Do you not haf a bag for sleeping?’ ‘Yes, but it’s very thin.’ (I was trying not to scream at this point.) ‘We could buy you a blanket if you like, Allan’s just going to the shops now?’ God, do they not even have spare blankets in this fucking house??? ‘A big, thick blanket?’ ‘Yes, Ok, that might be good,’ I said weakly. She demonstrated how thick ‘thick’ was and it looked adequate but I doubt very much it will live up to expectations.
The house is surrounded by high fences and it was ten minutes before they realised someone, i.e. me, had called and obligingly opened up the house to me (a simple thing like a bell is not allowed because it sends the dogs off on one, she explained later). This also happened to Bridget and Arthur (fellow house-sitters, from Stoke) so it wasn’t just me they were ignoring. The front yard smells of dog shite and heated urine.
We were told about the animals: 4 dogs (various sizes), two cockatoos (villainous), two parakeets (utterly vile), two wonderful parrots (an Eclectus from the Amazon, and an African Grey), 6 water dragons (senseless), 2 Pekin ducks, 2 chestnut ducks, 2 whistling ducks, 4 mandarin ducks (they like ducks by the way – but they don’t eat the eggs), a diamond dove, one budgie (its mate had just died), two quails (again no-one eats the eggs which is a disgraceful waste!), a terrapin, several mice (for bait), 3 pythons (one deadly), 6 cats, and a fluctuating number of guinea pigs.
The family (well, lovely, sentient Svetlana anyway) is breaking any number of Oz laws (she told us this herself!): for instance, they’re feeding live mice to the snakes (not allowed in Oz), and they have more than two dogs (the extra two need dispensation from the authorities it seems), and none of the hounds are registered.
We were given a tour of the house by mein hosts from Austria: ‘Ze AC SHOULD NOT BE USED because it smokes. Only one of zem works anyway, except that it smokes. Don’t use it.’ And heating? It wasn’t mentioned even though this is deepest winter here.
The kitchen is spartan to say the least. They don’t have sharp knives because of the kids, they have few plates because they get broken (by the kids). There are NO sockets (and therefore no microwave, kettle or any useful piece of equipment) because of the kids. Also, there are no powerpoints in the bathroom (for razers) and no mirrors because ...
Deep sigh. Breath deeply.
I asked Svetlana if she’d built the (hideous) hippy wall outside the back (all rough stone and orange paint) and she said, ‘Yes, when we moved in there was just the ugly English brick there ...’ and Bridget said, ‘Ah, how to alienate three quarters of your house-sitters in one short sentence!’ She was joking but I couldn’t stop this little ditty from spinning around my head ... Deutschland Deutschland Uber Alis ... I just about stopped myself from whistling it. At least, I think I stopped myself.
The family of four (humans) all have their own unique eating requirements and so Svetlana doesn’t do ANY cooking and instead they appear to live off raw veg and fruit. Cooking is a bit difficult anyway because two of the four hobs on the cooker don’t work. Baking is also out because they don’t really know how to work the oven (but, to give them some credit, they’ve only been here for TWO years). When she does cook, Svetlana tends to forget what she’s doing and burns everything (as evidenced by the scorched pan that had been sitting in the basin for the last two days). I've taken to humming the theme to the ‘70s comedy, 'Butterflies'. Oh, if only the sainted Rea was here now ...
Today, Strange Svet managed to cook a bland but warm(ish) tomato-and-nothing spaghetti (well, actually Bridget ended up cooking it) for a mid-afternoon snack which was all we’d been offered in the 6 hours we’d been there. Actually, to be brutally honest, I’m exaggerating. I was offered mineral water an hour after I arrived. When I said, ‘Ooh, I could murder a coffee ...?’ they said that they didn’t drink coffee. I really should have seen that coming. But this was all we were going to be offered for the rest of our time at Cockatoo Avenue I think.
They use a ‘blunt knife’ for cutting up things. It’s German (naturally) which means that ‘it is a very good blunt knife, far better than Australian blunt knives that don’t verk after a veek.’ WHAT the FUCK is THAT all about? We watched her chop away at a sweet potato for the good part of ten minutes, sweating and cursing like a good ‘un under her breath, until finally she had cut the ends off and said, ‘Zer, you see?’ mopping her brow, ‘Now, zat’s a good knife!’
Perhaps understanding our reluctance not to have to spend the rest of our short lives cutting up vegetables, she condescended and said that we were allowed to buy our own sharp knife if we wanted to, once they had left for their hols. We could also buy a tea towel (because they don’t have one - there’s a shock - and the dishwasher doesn’t work), kettle, blankets or sleeping bag, food and anything else that the house may lack (which might cover a whole truck load of things).
They’re not going to leave us any food (‘After all, you are not really going to do much work, are you?’ Maybe not, but we’ll try to do it as efficiently as possible ... ) but I asked about basics like cooking oil and herbs. ‘You can use anything you find in this cupboard here,’ she said. It turned out that this was all the stuff left by other woofers and consisted of three lots of ground black pepper (good), some spray-on cooking oil (... OK ...), some vanillin salt (?), and loads of vinegar. No herbs. Some salt. And that’s it.
Then she said, ‘Ve af to put padlocks on all ze draws and ze fridge and sings, because of ze kids. They move sings and ve can’t find zem. Please don’t zink zat ze locks are zer because of you!! Ha ha.’
As if. There’s probably nothing in the cupboards anyway.
It’s going to take a lot of alcohol to get me through these next few weeks, I’m telling you. What a fucking disaster. Could be a real waste of three weeks of my life coming up. I don’t mind hardship or hard work, but I really don’t like cockroach crap all over the place, the smell of cats piss in my room and stale dog shite in the yard. I’m weird like that. How the hell can I get out of this? I can’t just leave because I have an obligation to help, but maybe they’ll ‘kick me out’ – I made a good stab at this strategy earlier when I inadvertently switched off their computer when I meant to switch off the TV. I might well have lost a lot of Allan’s important data. I can only hope. Not really.
I’m seriously considering making a complete shite of myself tonight just to get out of this. I know it’ll mean being blackballed from the woofers site but maybe, at this minute, I just don’t really give a damn. This place is not an organic site and should never have been allowed to be advertised on the Wwoof web bulletin board. It’s dirty and anal. And I’m already pissed off with it. Maybe I should act REALLY dumb tomorrow (not much acting involved actually) and pretend to give the Dragons/lizards the birds’ food and maybe feed the oh-so-expensive Electus Parrot to the pythons.
There are three others to help me, which, given the anal details of the welfare regime of the zoo, is just as well. However, I have a strong feeling that Bridget and Arthur (who have just upped-sticks and emigrated here) will bugger off as soon as they can. Even if they stay they will be looking for jobs and if they find one then that will mean at least one of them will be out of the picture. Jeeeeesus.
And Lyndsay, the blonde student nurse from Oz (it really isn’t half as good as it sounds, believe me), seems to be wanting to spend most of her time either working on her shifts at the hospital or going to lectures, so what good she’ll be I don’t know. We’ll have to work our schedules around hers and I can’t see many happy days off for me in Brissie coming up because how the hell will I be able to get away?
Bridget is lovely. A bit on the plump side but clever and inquisitive and funny and practical and has lovely big ... eyes that are of the deepest brown. Arthur, her husband / partner / boyfriend, is a little quieter and more circumspect (but just as dumpy. The make a good pair of Tweedles). I like them even though they’re in IT. They’ve recently moved over to Oz (having spent months in France and SE Asia) and are looking for jobs and a place to settle down hence their enthusiasm to take on this post because it gives them a cheap place and a space to explore.
Lyndsay is maybe a little younger than me (fantasies of student nurses don’t usually invoke late career-changers, and she is definitely no fantasy, not a good one anyway), a little plumper, a little more bottle blonde, and slightly more bruised by bottles. Apart from that it’s hard to tell what she’s like because she left early to go to an Open Day. I think she’s taking the piss, though, when she thinks she can spend as little time here working with us and the animals as she perhaps wants. But maybe I’m misjudging her**.
Allan, the father of the family, seems nice and normal. He meeted and greeted me and left me by the pool (did I mention there was a swimming pool?!) to wait until the others arrived, then he took us all on a tour of the house - the electrics, the pumps and the water system. I could also completely understand his accent, which was an immense relief.
Svetlana, his wife, on the other hand, is utterly unhinged and incomprehensible. I don’t know how long she’s been in Oz but I don’t think it’s significant; no matter how many years she lives here she will never lose her strong German accent. Or her loopy nature come to that. Nothing she said seemed to be in order even when she was demonstrating something, like, for example, how to prepare the Water Dragons’ food: ‘You don’t vant to get the maggots vet,’ she said as she ran them under the tap in a sieve, ‘and ven you grate the carrot, I don’t have any carrot, I’ll use spinach, I don’t usually use this much spinach but I use more carrot, but I don’t have any carrot, but I show you anyvay, but zis is not vat I normally do, but you don’t vant to do it like ze uzer woofers oo came before and killed my dogs ...’
And it went on like this for the next two hours. Good job Bridget was taking notes.
Then we were passed on to Lucy, the oldest child. Lucy told us in great detail how to feed and look after the animals. After two hours we had only covered the front garden’s cages and ponds – she likes to ensure clarity over every morsel of bits of information, bless her: ‘And this is how you open and close the door. You push up the bolt thingy and slide it this way. Then, to close, you push up the bolt and you slide it THIS way. Do you have that?’
To be honest, she might have got the impression that we were all idiots and that we needed this level of instruction after I’d tried to use the hose. Even after seeing her do it effortlessly for the last two hours I couldn’t get it to switch on when I had a go. I turned to her and said in desperation, ‘You haven’t switched this off at the tap, have you?’ hoping that she had, otherwise I’d look a complete tit. She hadn’t, of course. She took it from my hands, twisted it insouciantly and it came on, no problem. She explained patiently, ‘You have to twist it at the end, not further back. You twist it more and it becomes stronger. You twist it less and the water becomes weaker. OK?’ Yes miss. And so, despite my best efforts ... I looked a complete tit. Ah well, plus ca change, plus c’est la meme chose, as they say in Queensland.
Further instructions were given: we have to poop the dogs first1, clean the yard, and then feed them. The little dogs get the big dog food, and the big dogs get the little dog food (all from the drawer marked, ‘Dog Food’2). The little dogs get this amount of this type of dog food, the big dog called Luisa gets this mount of this dog food but Rex, the other big dog, gets this amount of this other type of dog food. The little dogs are fed in the bathroom (‘Remember to close the toilet door otherwise Beauty likes to pee beside the bowl. Not in it, but beside it.’), Luisa is fed in the yard, Rex is fed in her cage. We have to then let the dogs back into the house, two at a time, maybe three, and sometimes put them in cages but other times not.
We have to prep the birds’ food in a very precise way – no orange seeds, no apple seeds, just enough frozen veg, just enough mineral and Vit E supplement. The big birds get the little bird seed (but only in the evening), and the little birds get the big bird seed (but only once a day). We have to wash down the yard, water the plants, make sure that the snakes’ lights are switched off at night and then back on again in the morning. Make sure that the electrics are switched off at night (rats gnaw through the cables and the system is altogether not very safe – there have been many fires caused by the TV being left on overnight, we were reminded). And ve MUST NOT USE THE MAINS WATER! Only bore hole water. (Not even a ‘Sankyou’ for this.)
We have to prepare the Dragon’s food in a precise way (and remember that they only need to be fed every other day), and the ducks (not forgetting that the Pekins are treated differently from the Whistlings and the Mandarins (twice a day not once a day), and that you can feed the small ducks every other day but it’s best to feed them every day), and the biting Grouchers (or whatever they’re called), and the turtle ... And we hadn’t even got onto the cats yet.
If all this sounds confusing ... it was!
About the only things we don’t really need to bother too much about are the caged mice, and that’s because they have a very short life span as they’re fed directly to the snakes. Very gruesome, but guiltily fascinating. Oh, and the guinea pigs are expendable too. As we passed their cage, Allan said, ‘Ach, there’s a dead one. That’s a good job for you it died today and not tomorrow ...’ which was a bit sinister. All it needed was a wild, maniacal German laugh to complete the effect but, alas, he didn’t oblige.
Will we be sued if anything cops it whilst we’re on duty? Probably.
Bloody hell, what a place.
In spite of everything, there ARE redeeming features: the children are lovely (when they stop screaming or complaining that someone has sat in their seat and it needs cleaning NOW! But, no, they are really lovely and it is hard for them and the family). The TV’s really good (although they don’t have the Sports Channel). The dogs are really great – very friendly and beautiful. And the caged birds are wonderful – especially the Eclectus and the Grey parrots – really talkative (in a Svetlana (incomprehensible) kinda way) and beautiful. And the lizards are curious and stately in their own way. And I enjoyed feeding the live mouse to the python ....... no I didn’t.
Whilst the cockatoos are psychotic and attack you at every opportunity (whether there’s wire between the two of you or not), the parrots are loveable and fantastic mimics. I’m looking forward to teaching them the tune to the Great Escape as they already seem to know Colonel Bogey (but not the lyrics – that’s another project for the next three weeks). One disturbing thing about them, though, is that that they sometimes kick off with an almighty crying and mewing that sounds uncannily like a child in torment ... They are so cute; they crave attention and human contact. As soon as you enter their aviary, they frantically beak and claw along the chicken wire to get to your shoulder, then they nuzzle up to your ear and softly croon into it as if they were over-grown lovebirds. It’s quite erotic actually. No bird has done that to me for a long, long time.
So, having destroyed Allan’s data on his PC, and wanting some clean air I have made a quick exit out to Cleveland, a mile up the road, to have a quiet drink and eat something that’s edible and also vaguely tasty. The first restaurant I went to was exorbitantly expensive and I asked the waitress, because I was getting on quite well with her, if there were any others in the neighbourhood. She said there were a couple of cafes ... and a fish takeaway ... but, hmmm, not very much was open at this time of year and that was all. I thanked her and went in search of a bottle store (4 litres for 12 bucks – not bad!) where I asked again. The kind lady directed me to an area which was buzzing with life and food! So much for charming the local wenches into divulging insider information!
The Proclaimers are playing. Great nostalgia. Pictures of home and wild Scottish moors and bampots. I always think of the brothers Proclaimers as people who are slightly retarded, the kind of wimpy-looking boys who would stand up to the school bullies who are twice their height and with reputations of eating raw iron, and they would crane their heads back, push their glasses back onto their noses and look them straight into their eyes from two inches away and dare the bullies to touch them. The kind of boys you really didn’t want to cross because you never knew what they were really capable of doing. Scary people. True bampots. Real Scotland. Home.
I’m sure they’re quite nice really.
Students are now In The Building. In the land of the Drinking Game the Sensible Man goes to bed early (Lao Tze, 600 BC (Before Castlemaine XXXX)), whilst the Fool stays up thinking he can match them pint for pint. It is the Sensible Man who awakes the next morning feeling physically good but somehow empty of experience; whilst it is the Fool who awakens feeling like shit whirled in a Moulinex AND also empty because he can’t remember why the FUCK he did it, whatever the fuck IT was. This is why he is called The Fool.
There’s a message in there somewhere. I wonder if I can decipher it.
Finished now. Got through half the wine. Ready for a pint and a piss. Then head back to the madness ... oh for f’s sake.
*In hindsight, it turns out that I was dead right!
1. but not as early as 0500 when THEY begin Fuck that.
2. Any resemblance to Mrs Ogmore-Pritchard is purely intended. It’s that kind of house.
(l-r): Maya Sugarman as Biddy, Gavin Hoffman as Joe Gargery and Stephen Stocking as Pip in "Great Expectations" at Portland Center Stage.
Photo by Patrick Weishampel/blankeye.tv.
Portland Center Stage presents
GREAT EXPECTATIONS
Adapted from Charles Dickens by Lucinda Stroud
for Book-It Repertory Theatre
Directed by Jane Jones
January 16 — February 14, 2016 On the U.S. Bank Main Stage
Previews are Jan. 16-21 | Opening night Jan. 22
Based on Charles Dickens’ classic coming of age novel, Great Expectations tells the adventures of the Victorian orphan Pip. As a boy, Pip has three encounters with people that will change his life: the escaped convict Magwitch, the bewitching and cold Estella, and the unhinged Miss Havisham. When Pip comes into an unforeseen fortune and begins the life of a gentleman his past is not so easily left behind, and the surprising adventures of his new life are decidedly unexpected.
Just when I think it is over, it is not.
No, this is not an archive shot. The Chalk Fire is the ever ready bunny! It came unhinged yesterday, and this was taken Thursday night around 11 pm.
The good news is my night shots have improved dramatically in the last 3 weeks. Been getting some practice in! ;-)
White Queen, a charity doll for London Fashion Doll Festival 2018, is dressed OOAK Inamorata Valerie in Milk resin. The charity auction starts today and all the proceedings are going to a children's hospital trust.
www.ebay.co.uk/itm/302778066742?ssPageName=STRK:MESELX:IT...
White Queen is the unhinged ruler of the the white chess pieces in the book Through the Looking-Glass, and What Alice Found There by Lewis Carroll. She must run fast to stay still as the world of chess whirls by. The inspiration for the White Queen came from Japan and samurai armour: the bodice is sculpted leather, the exaggerated lace shoulders evoking the silhouette of armour and the psychedelic checkers of the silk skirt, fastened like a hakama, echo the chessboard. Her heeled boots are inspired by tengu geta sandals and her hard cap wig is a modern geisha style made with silk, leather and alpaca hair.
“The British are among the worst idlers in the world. We work among the lowest hours, we retire early and our productivity is poor. Whereas Indian children aspire to be doctors or businessmen, the British are more interested in football and pop music”
That's according to compassionate conservatives Kwasi Kwarteng, Priti Patel, Dominic Raab, Chris Skidmore and Liz Truss (2012) in their book en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Britannia_Unchained
But are the British really the worst idlers in the world? Liz Truss and Kwasi Kwarteng’s early characterisation of the UK workforce does not entirely stand up to scrutiny argues Sarah O'Connor twitter.com/sarahoconnor_/status/1572149750606233601
Open Government Licensed (OGL) portrait of Kwasi Kwarteng MP by UK Government via Wikimedia Commons w.wiki/5k78
One of the best things about this weekend’s hilarious comedy sequel HORRIBLE BOSSES 2 is the return of Jennifer Aniston’s sex-obsessed dentist, who steals every foul-mouthed scene she’s in. Her next film however, CAKE, sees her in an altogether different role, albeit very much...
Man From Uranus : Amazing Science Friction Vol 1
FRVM59
manfromuranus.bandcamp.com/album/amazing-science-friction...
[EN]
When Man From Uranus shimmies onstage, he announces that he'd probably have preferred to call himself Rockhausen. While this certainly would have saved him from the endless innuendo the name he's stuck with brings, Phil Uranus still cuts an eccentric figure in his Sun Ra t-shirt and scientist-gone-bad-on-experimental-drugs demeanour. No-one could accuse him of not engaging with his audience, and Phil annotates each number with footnotes before tending to his machines with the air of someone who loves and cares for them, but really, really wants to abuse the sounds they can make.
So there are gurgling and droning loops, beats made manifestly unhinged, analogue bass thumps and some hardcore avantgarde interference with the notion of the straightahead four-four rhythm, mostly selected from MFU's new Amazing Science Friction Volume One CD.
No sound is left unstoned, the mood shifting between happy-go-lucky toytown electronica and a scattering of heaving stabs fried enough to bring the electricians in to check the wiring. Phil brings in various boxes of tricks into play in his best electronic rock star manner, twisting them to his midriff and wrenching further sparks from their innards; the best buzzing coming from a Stylophone amped up to eleven and used to strip paint from the walls.
All the time he is obviously enthralled by the malformed sounds the various devices are capabale of having coaxed from them - and anyone still so misguided as to believe that electronic music is dry or devoid of emotion should come and see Man From Uranus some time for a lesson in applied synthesized dementia.
[FR]
Certaines sources affirment que Man From Uranus ne viendrait pas de l’espace mais de Floride. Peu importe les rumeurs, puisque c’est depuis l’excentrique Cambridge (UK) qu’il a composé ses morceaux d’electro-vintage, à l’aide d’une armée de synthétiseurs, oscillateurs ou samplers, son Theremin et ses walkmans à cassettes.
On trouve dans ces pièces bricolées des bouts de Space Jazz , de Krautrock et de Stockhausen, l’energie de Sun Ra, des Stooges ou The Fall, le tout lié par une folie garage communicative. Sans connexion avec la musique électronique contemporaine, ce savant fou concocte dans le secret de son laboratoire des potions sonores au goût unique, The Wire le décrivant même comme un “scientifique dissident au paysage musical immense”.
Depuis 2000, Man From Uranus a tourné avec Felix Kubin, Faust et Pram, et collaboré avec Ann Shenton (Add N to X ) et Broadcast, joué à la Tate Modern de Londres et au Royal College of Art, et accompli une résidence de Thereministe à Glastonbury.
Amazing Science friction vol.1 est la première sortie de son label Outer Music, relayée en France par le label liégeois Freaksville Records. Recueil de morceaux jusque là épars, collaborations avec Broadcast, ou Agaskodo Teliverek, c’est “la musique que ferait un ordinateur surpuissant des années 70 à un bal de promo”.
Man From Uranus a récemment quitté Cambridge pour s’installer à Londres. Il a participé à de nombreuses productions Freaksville, a sorti plusieurs albums sur le label et a réalisé quelques clips pour les Loved Drones, Dragon Noir ou Rockhausen.
[Quotes]
"MFU is a quintessentially English phenomenon - in fact, it's tempting to be more specific and describe him as a quintessentially Cambridge phenomenon. A maverick boffin oblivious to the wider musical landscape, MFU constructs appealingly eccentric snippets of fizzing analogue psychedelia which seems to owe as much to the quirky, Moogtastic sounds of 70s cult TV as they do to groups like Stereolab or Broadcast (who make a couple of guest appearances here). This album anthologises recordings made over the last four years and for the most part it's a volley of brief, breezy and barely-suppressed giggles, complete with comedy titles and whimsical samples. But a couple of tracks suggest greater substance: "New Planet Professor" revels in a soaring, consciousness-expanding keyboard solo which coould have been excised from some mystical Caravan bootleg, while the closing "Space Station 3 On The Shores Of Infinity" stretches out through 12 minutes of cosmic, Radiophonic space"
The Wire
"This rules.... bonkers electronics in a library music styling which I think is gonna appeal to folks who like the Radiophonic Workshop gear as well as Ghost Box shenanigans. It's probably a bit more playful than those folks though..... think of the music a 1970's super computer would be making on an Open University special. It does go a bit spazzed out and fans of Agoskodo Teliverek will recognise a song from their album on here played with MFA. It's a lot of fun though and it doesn't take itself too seriously. Lots of spaceship whirring noises and outer space weirdness pervade this 23 track funstick but as a child brought up on Sapphire & Steel this rules my world. Well recommended!!"
Norman Records
"Faut-il préciser que les amateurs de bizarreries cosmiques, de pétages de plomb semi-contrôlés, d'objets musicaux non identifiés sont cordialement invités à se ruer sur ce disque ?"
Kweb
"Man from Uranus tente rationnellement d’expliquer au monde que l’invasion des toasters géants à déjà débuté. Entre les lignes de code, un seul message: protégez-vous derrière mon Roland, je sauverai le monde"
Gonzai
"L'homme d'Uranus recourt aux synthés vintage, à quelques instruments acoustiques… Le résultat est assez attachant et quelques morceaux très habiles"
RifRaf
"Ces «Amazing Science friction» sonnent comme un cartoon SF, absurde et intemporel"
Hinu
"Amazing science friction rassemble ainsi 23 morceaux tour à tour azimutés, intrigants, croquignolets et insupportables. Prêt pour le décollage ?"
Le Focus-Vif
"Dans le monde du rock Colgate où les disques ne se vendent plus, où les groupies crient plus fort que le chanteur, Man From Uranus fait tache: il est moche, talentueux et hors des modes. Le petit prince du synthe(xupery) est définitivement l'homme à abattre"
Technikart
Sneezing all day unhinges me just a bit. Let the weirdness flow. audioboo.fm/boos/1561332-the-angry-man (audio version of "The Angry Man")
No! Not Me, I hope!
Our ageing side garden gate had been all but destroyed by the recent gales and had to be replaced.
Now years ago it would not have been a problem for me to do the job but..... anyway we employed a very fine local carpenter to fit the new gates. They look superb.
Today I had to get rid of the old gates. I took the wooden parts to a neighbour with a wood-burning boiler and removed all the metal fittings for recycling.
Washington Circle, Washington, D.C.
This gentleman became unhinged when I took his picture. In truth, he was unhinged before, and was shouting about various indignities forced upon him. I did not have the time to find out what he was so upset about, but thought to snap a picture before making my way back to work.
(l-r): Isaac Lamb as Orlick, Dana Green as Mrs. Joe, Gavin Hoffman as Joe Gargery and Stephen Stocking as Pip in "Great Expectations" at Portland Center Stage.
Photo by Patrick Weishampel/blankeye.tv.
Portland Center Stage presents
GREAT EXPECTATIONS
Adapted from Charles Dickens by Lucinda Stroud
for Book-It Repertory Theatre
Directed by Jane Jones
January 16 — February 14, 2016 On the U.S. Bank Main Stage
Previews are Jan. 16-21 | Opening night Jan. 22
Based on Charles Dickens’ classic coming of age novel, Great Expectations tells the adventures of the Victorian orphan Pip. As a boy, Pip has three encounters with people that will change his life: the escaped convict Magwitch, the bewitching and cold Estella, and the unhinged Miss Havisham. When Pip comes into an unforeseen fortune and begins the life of a gentleman his past is not so easily left behind, and the surprising adventures of his new life are decidedly unexpected.
He's Hot Work, he's unhinged. I don't know whether to block him and leave him to the dogs, or keep being a supportive friend and nurse him out of his madness.
Portland, Oregon - March 2018.
Nikon F3/T
AF Nikkor 35-70 mm f/2.8
Fomapan 400 Action at 800 ISO in Acufine.
"Oh the nerves, the nerves; the mysteries of this machine called man! Oh the little that unhinges it, poor creatures that we are!" ~Charles Dickens
I picked up the Fairlock Industry Butterfly Wings from the Unhinged Gatcha Festival and was inspired to put together this look.
Unhinged Gatcha Festival until Dec 15.
maps.secondlife.com/secondlife/Port%20Seraphine/215/171/28
Ridiculously long and rambling blog post here