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Sexy android killer
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|  It's a cutie!!! (link to store) Check there in the coming days as more will appear, and adults, and dolls and stuff! (edit) Don't let the fact that many of you will be receiving these as gifts dissuade you from purchasing them for your friends and loved ones (he said hopefully). I am also willing to trade for dinner invitations, bottles of port, gym memberships, large blocks of wax, xbox points, Italian sculpturing tools, Ecorche´,curly-toed shoes, anachronistic garments, antique design and decoration manuals, laptop repair, brass and wooden gears, etc. | comments: 8 comments or Leave a comment  |
| Just as warm When projected From a cold screen With a aura of static As from a smooth page With an aura of age (or agelessness)
just as honest as breath needful as sighs filled to the brim with ancient
mud and straw and stone or glass and steel stacked on top of firing synapses held in place by habits and gravity old saws and new paradigms glued with gods and equations to the backs of our heads and shoulders bird fluttering pages swift electrons holding us above the abyss of our own making | comments: Leave a comment  |
|  An experiment in atmospheric lighting. Painted both "trad" and "digi". The drawing needs some stylizing, maybe. The sailor will get some clothing and there will be a swirlyer tail on the mermaid. | comments: 15 comments or Leave a comment  |
| A surface, stone and silk, As untouchable as a photograph Translucent, white Like milk As impossible to use As someone else’s epitaph. Images and all their ilk Part to keep and Part to lose. They slip away Why can’t I laugh? | comments: Leave a comment  |
| | I miss my cat. |  |
| A Chipotle tortilla does NOT contain 1000 calories. It contains 290. (some say 330) Calories aren't evil tho. Without them you would die. (In about 30 days) If you only ate one 13" tortilla a day you could probably live for quite awhile before the scurvy set in. Enriched flour. So, no Beriberi or Pellagra. ok. Add some salsa. 9 tbsp. of olive oil has 1000 calories a little more than half a cup, enough to make 30 tortillas. Ok. So no one makes tortillas with olive oil... could you survive on 30 tortillas a day? I'm pretty sure neither the tortilla nor the salsa has much lysine. I wonder how long before you die of a lysine deficiency? Historically, humans have survived on very little food, this has pretty much set the stage for overpopulation. I'm skipping some steps here... But now-a-days we have as much lysine as we want, or can afford. What is the minimum requirement of lysine to be happy? We don't' seem to have reached it yet... | comments: 4 comments or Leave a comment  |
| I need dead bugs. Dead winged insects to be more specific. (tho non-wings are ok too) They are for some art I'm making. I need them fairly soon, which is why the usual collection methods wont work. also it's too cold at the moment. Moths, flies, mosquitoes.... Any size will do. If you look in light fixtures and windowsills between screens, interstitial spots on back porches, and so on. those of you who work at old buildings have extra advantages... Just sweep them gently into a ziplock bag. and post a reply. | comments: 5 comments or Leave a comment  |
| Me: a supplicant before her. Her: A dark and ancient god. In my nose a wine of sandalwood and myrrh, In my mouth the taste of blood. Through me unknowingly she scrys, Performs ecstatic alchemy. With each pull from cup of dulcet drug A piece within me dies, Reborn each time anew, From loins mystic, awash with dew Of madness from long before the flood. Soft, solid, welcoming entrapment, Rapture, sweet clear impurity. Filled am I with dark cobalt fire Resounding though, Unbound by certainty, Submitting boldly to Something I require. Losing, only to become More | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment  |
| | This studyshows how you can get all the benefits of massive endurance training with 10% of the work. It makes intervals a no-brainer. That's 20 minutes versus Two Hours!!!! Does this mean that no one should train for endurance? Of course not. But for all you "I don't have the time" whiners out there.... Run some stairs, or whatever corresponds to your current level of ability. | comments: 5 comments or Leave a comment  |
| Sometimes people tell me how I should behave! I rarely listen to them. I’m not saying that I’m beyond reproach, Far from it. Some people, when I behave badly Suggest that I should be judged, By what they claim, is a Universal standard of politeness. I see this as so idiotic, I can barely reach myself for comment. Politeness? Politeness is me Not flipping back your head Like a Pez dispenser And noshing on your hypothalamus. See how polite I am? It’s shocking, really. | comments: 4 comments or Leave a comment  |
| Appearance peers down on deceptive Conjoined and coined into collectives: How you think I think you will look.
Vital Virtue, self-rewarded. By whom is such an act recorded? Can’t drink the ink or eat the book.
A Breath, to stress hypocrisy Suck back, and act dogmatically Just justified, then quick forsook.
Wretched ethics, boring morals, Juicy fat for greedy quarrels Be careful not to overcook! | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment  |
| as freedom is a breakfastfood or truth can live with right and wrong or molehills are from mountains made -long enough and just so long will being pay the rent of seem and genius please the talentgang and water most encourage flame
as hatracks into peachtrees grow or hopes dance best on bald men's hair and every finger is a toe and any courage is a fear -long enough and just so long will the impure think all things pure and hornets wail by children stung
or as the seeing are the blind and robins never welcome spring nor flatfolk prove their world is round nor dingsters die at break of dong and common's rare and millstones float -long enough and just so long tomorrow will not be too late
worms are the words but joy's the voice down shall go which and up come who breasts will be breasts and thighs will be thighs deeds cannot dream what dreams can do -time is a tree (this life one leaf) but love is the sky and i am for you just so long and long enough | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment  |
| Insipid sun shall no brighter shine Than your eyes in mine. Callous moon, Projects its watery gloom. Its tides are nothing next to thine.
Forced: I go beyond Stars and schemes And other lonely dreams, All behind. Are they gone?
There is no night so dark, As I am dark for you. No constellation makes its mark Between those ancient flames, Blackness filled with nameless names, Where I wait anew, On the edge of some remark.
Shall I meet you there beyond? If not the motive, you’ve the means To plumb the deep betweens All behind, not so gone. | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment  |
| | While everyone is quite knowledgeable about how others should act they are rarely so versed in how they themselves should behave. However, if everyone remained silent on the subject, it would be even more difficult to listen. | comments: Leave a comment  |
| | “Nothing in art is created without effort, and the painter’s ideas don’t come to him on wings while he dreams, either. The one may be more talented than the other, of course; but without untiring diligence, single-mindedness and a combative spirit, there can’t be any good result. All this talk about ‘inspiration’ is nonsense.” | comments: Leave a comment  |
| What gift in Eden Before knowing? Could exceed All flesh aglow Knowledge is jealous And pale Of all this rapture Long ago. | comments: Leave a comment  |
| | Virtue is not a democratic ideal, it is a universal one and remains so despite all of the votes against it. | comments: Leave a comment  |
| | If you find yourself unable to do nothing, it is simply because you are escaping | comments: Leave a comment  |
| Sometimes we hunt hunger; Proving to our senses We are no so numb. Electrical pangs of pain Our glorious goal. And words, So cheap when compared to Soft lips Or sharp teeth.
Arbitrary tones Are empty, (Manufactured vacuum) Their pull Almost inexorable, Can be sullied, stifled By still uncomodified Pain.
Or so we hope, Hope at the morning star Or at Orion, His fruitless pursuit Across the smooth forever, Shoulders wet with sweat, And straining at the bow. His eye and his arrow Pointed at the scorpion.
Venus’ softness, brightness can betray, (How we know!) But the leaping! Nothing can touch, can compare: To the strain of legs and hips and thighs (Against each other) As the ground, however briefly left behind, Becomes just another thought. To the needlemind, the razormind, The red periphery, doomfocus, Where life is really chosen, That’s where living is. | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment  |
| Input in, and output out. How else to know what we’re about? And should you meet another mind, A newer world you will unwind, And quick solution… mostly find… So swallow down your dose of doubt. If uncertain’s in, then what’s without? | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment  |
| It is worth being skeptical of hope, but well worth being skeptical of misery as well. Both hold their amusements and advantages, but are prey to our tendency for wallowing in a single perspective. | comments: 3 comments or Leave a comment  |
| No such thing as innocence i do believe Innocence proposes its own cult of evildoers Running headlong Scissors grasped sweatily Poised before an outreaching eye Ready to be stabbed Gulping sybariticly at their tiny slice Of experience Perception if you will Uncontrolled Beautiful Filth-smeared Red faced Panting. Pupils dilated And generally behaving badly.
Bluebirds will not feed from their outstretched hand
Their pickets will not be white But will be soaked in the lifeblood of poor intentions And slick with selfish fluids Of an interesting life Regurgitating poisoned mistakes onto The machete sharpened stakes of A permanent possibility for sensation
No sighs or limpid smiles Or shots of warm liquid fiction Positivity Only the ragged pragmatic optimism Of dirty Callused Strong Star-crossed Palms
No happy practiced peristalsis Of inaction
Innocence proposes the simpletonian fallacy: I am the opposite of guilt! | comments: 3 comments or Leave a comment  |
| Flaming days and ashen autumn days; Wiping color past my eyes these rags of time, Shedding the extraneous in frigid praise for resourceful sorts and winters crime.
Weeping days and russet mottled weeks, Descending past my gaze to gray the sky, Wringing aging droplets on my cheeks, Mourning for the warmth of my July.
Handsome days and beauty’s toothsome hour, Never as forgiving as the wind wanting of forgiveness’ failing power; Empty, open, hoping, and chagrined. | comments: Leave a comment  |
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 more here Beyond page 8 or so they stop applying to the SA trip.... on the other side of those rocks I'm sitting on are the Tugela falls.
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| To sing a song of bumblebees, Would from the Muses goblet sip. The very Gods those verses please, That to such bees a hat might tip.
Why would these bees be overlooked By poets pen and harpers chord? On patient brow, these insults brooked By bumblebees, so oft ignored.
The bumblebee has no recourse To insert himself in song or rhyme Merely flits he, midst spiny gorse, Quite unaware of thoughts sublime
Almost complete now is the group Of artists who would write them off But one musician deigned to stoop; Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment  |
| There’s a string of moments You get to look at some of them One at a time A plague of circumstances Each winning over the last Clamoring for attention Wanting to be conscious Waiting for the cascade Of molecules to embody Instants Interlocking Into the impossibility of something Listening to itself | comments: Leave a comment  |
| | Extraordinary events do not always require extraordinary causes. Given enough time, they can happen by chance. Events occur as they do, based on countless, counterpoised forces, the extraordinary is simply a momentary failure of one of these. | comments: Leave a comment  |
| Hume's Guillotine.
"In every system of morality, which I have hitherto met with, I have always remark'd, that the author proceeds for some time in the ordinary ways of reasoning, and establishes the being of a God, or makes observations concerning human affairs; when all of a sudden I am surpriz'd to find, that instead of the usual copulations of propositions, is, and is not, I meet with no proposition that is not connected with an ought, or an ought not. This change is imperceptible; but is however, of the last consequence. For as this ought, or ought not, that expresses some new relation or affirmation, 'tis necessary that it shou'd be observ'd and explain'd; and at the same time that a reason should be given; for what seems altogether inconceivable, how this new relation can be a deduction from others, which are entirely different from it."
This describes one of the primary problems with the current trend toward natural philosophy. Deriving an ought from an is, presents an equally sticky relationship with any sort of decision making. In essence this fallacy is a sort of appeal to the ultimate authority of reality, but the Guillotine points out that our ought's are derived not from the material but from the imaginary. This is not to say that a sudden sense of indecision should be fostered, but that the importance of the imagination should be given further emphasis. | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment  |
| </a></b></a> merry_fates
When he spotted her in a ruin of an Italian villa, near Tripoli, on an ancient track, converted, from some turn-of-the-century nobleman’s winter haunt to an occasional squat for travelers who had the misfortune of being on this part of the road near dusk, he was intrigued. He had encountered Feral and nearly feral children before. She was different. ( Ater a few hours... )
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| Lift not the painted veil which those who live Call Life: though unreal shapes be pictured there, And it but mimic all we would believe With colours idly spread,—behind, lurk Fear And Hope, twin Destinies; who ever weave Their shadows, o’er the chasm, sightless and drear. I knew one who had lifted it—he sought, For his lost heart was tender, things to love, But found them not, alas! nor was there aught The world contains, the which he could approve. Through the unheeding many he did move, A splendour among shadows, a bright blot Upon this gloomy scene, a Spirit that strove For truth, and like the Preacher found it not. | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment  |
| She lies effortlessly and often not (usually) to destroy But to make it all seem okay part of the plan (plain) Silken vise to hold us, tormented, Still, obedient, compliant mother drug fostering illusions of a reality loosely agreed to political prolactin supple breast of a sweatshop ethic polarizing unity dreamscape Of selfish warmth
Rule us Mother! We have strayed from your French manicure We will toil for beauty! No cost too much! Longer, thicker, lashes Our loving lot! Ease our honest age defining wrinkles with the sweet, hot, botulism of promised riches. The Pin Prick will only sting for a meager life of expression exchanged for Predictable Beauty
She lies effortlessly and often against our falsehood Pressing gently So our minds never wander near to freedom. | comments: Leave a comment  |
| | Human beings, who are almost unique in having the ability to learn from the experience of others, are also remarkable for their apparent disinclination to do so. | comments: 1 comment or Leave a comment  |
| the terrorist whose stock and trade, was criminal endeavor, fell squarely on his own grenade, despite being so clever. | comments: Leave a comment  |
| The sad, retired astronaut, His meals filled with broccoli, lived out his life in Terra-Haute, and dreamed his dreams of rocketry. | comments: 2 comments or Leave a comment  |
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Sexy android killer
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