| Oh.... MY |
[Jul. 23rd, 2008|03:59 am] |
I really thought my Octo was really damn good, truly beautiful and then, my Duchess... puts it around her neck and lets it sit in... well... my idea of heaven :)
Suddenly it's just a crude, inadequate, shoddy hunk of scruffy metal and fishing line.
Context, contrast, setting, is suddenly everything.
A 10,000W arclight is fire in the night, until the sun rises.
A Blackbird riding high on the edge of the Stratosphere, is sheer speed in flight, until a shooting star streaks past it like it's standing still.
We marvel at the towering architectural marvels of man until someone shows us a single grain of pollen under a microscope.
There are some things with which nothing can compete. Both myself and my work is humbled in an instant.
The feeble Art and Design of one man can never hope to be even in the same league as what nature has provided.
Naught is more enticing, more beautiful or more intoxicating than this, this yin incarnate. |
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| HmMmMMmMMmmm.... |
[Jul. 22nd, 2008|08:29 pm] |
tHiS nEw MUTHA!!11!1! mOtHeR eNeRgY dRINK hAs jUsT a lItTlE bIt of cAfFiEnE aNd sTuFf
~~~~~~~~
I hate my caffiene sensitivity. :)
This shit is like Red Bull with balls. Half a can I have the shakes. |
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| The casting saga |
[Jul. 20th, 2008|12:02 am] |
I've finally got a finished silicone copy done.
Same drill as before. If you want a look, let me know. :D |
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| Compromising positions. |
[Jul. 19th, 2008|11:59 pm] |
My poor lil' bro.
He calls me, requests that I bring 3 to 4 pillows over to his place. I ask why and get an evasive non-answer. He also says I should hurry...
So of course I'm sus but I comply, I'm not exactly tardy but of course my timing is just about perfect...
I deliver the pillows... and there's a car right outside Flea's house when I pull up. I decide to just be straight up business and get to with the delivery of the pillows. I give them to Anthony and beat a retreat to my car. The very pretty little thing gets out of her car and walks in to say hello to Anthony... It's all very obvious this is a 'dinner at my place' sort of thing with a very new acquaintance.
There's no possible way she missed me bringing the pillows.
They may as well have been lube and condoms... :D
I make hasty excuses about having a pot of soup on the stove at home and do my best vanishing trick.
I had a good chuckle to myself on the way home.
Best of British Flea, I hope one or two end up under her hips...
+naughty snigger+ |
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| I love my friends |
[Jul. 19th, 2008|05:14 am] |
http://ubiquitouspitt.livejournal.com/
she's ENTP, she's easy on the eye, she's talented...
...and she's fallen in a big hole.
A big black dog is sitting on her, crushing the air from her lungs, which I know a good few of you are all too sadly familiar with.
Please, as a favour to me, wander over to her LJ, say hello if you like. Have a look at her deviant art, website etc.
I would be very pleased, if you then come back here and tell her the sort of truth she needs to hear about just how damned fine she is. |
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| Joker comments redux |
[Jul. 19th, 2008|03:53 am] |
+ganks from friends LJ where I posted the following+
I think poor ole Christian Bale is forever tarred as the American Psycho...
People find it easier to believe they wear their madness on the inside.
The Joker on the other hand, is open. Openly insane, he has absolutely no diplomatic filters, no mask, (which is beautifully paradoxical to the whole idea of the face painted clown face thing). It makes him all the more creepy when he makes no attempt to hide how bloody ugly he is, all the way through.
I'm often classed as nuts, mostly because I am so very different and... I don't bother hiding it. I'm me and happy to share it as asymmetrically rhombozoid as I am in this world of squares. Which makes me all the more supposedly dangerous/bad/disturbing because everyone seems to expect that this is my facade and that underneath I'm probably even worse.
Most people do not cope well with folks who walk around sociologically naked. |
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| I has Singer sewing machine... |
[Jul. 18th, 2008|03:35 pm] |
paid 5 bucks.
I guess more accurately its a variostat drive electric motor and a huge collection of very useful high quality machine parts and fasteners.
I think it will end up being a shaker table for high quality resin and cold castings. With any luck I can set it up to have a seal and bell jar on top so it can both shake and provide a vacuum. Both of which draw out air pockets and bubbles in castings.
So... much retro-engineering to be had... :)
I need a couple geeky pals here with screwdrivers. :D |
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| associating with stars |
[Jul. 18th, 2008|02:33 am] |
I empathise with Heath Ledger.
Playing a twisted fuck like the Joker as well as he did requires something few actors can tap.
Most, are actors. Very few actually carve off a chunk of their soul, mould and shape it into something to display to the world. Actors pretend. Real actors become the role. Not just method acting, actually genuinely become the character for whatever time is required in front of the lens.
Only problem is when that character is as dark and evil as the Joker. I'd say Heath is dead now because he turned a small portion of himself into the Joker. He realised that he'd forged a deeply twisted, depraved psychopath from some of himself. He'd never be entirely just Heath or any number of the positive characters he'd portrayed before the Joker.
I won't claim the same sort of professionalism, nor will I claim any fame or any real association with Mr Ledger. He far exceeded my ability... but I do know where he is coming from.
My life has given me plenty of spite, hate and corruption to work with. I've also got a small alter ego in Aidian, my Sabbat Vampire character from my paper and dice roleplaying. I know what it means to explore your dark side and find that suddenly, once you've given it enough room... it changes you.
You can't change the Devil... but he sure can change you.
Thankfully... I haven't had to make as much of Aidian as Heath did the Joker.
Aidian is a release, Aidian is a murderous bastard, whom though he has spent a good deal of his time raging against the dark rather than with it, he/me takes great delight in the killing, the mayhem even when it is in a good cause. The righteousness in taking life is very, very small. Seldom is it the right thing. Aidian has killed many out of self preservation, killed by mistake, destroyed good things. Thankfully... such good things are purely in my head.
Though one has to wonder if the death of good things in ones head is something to cherish... or if it's something to abhor.
RPGs are pretty harmless. I'm not about to even contemplate doing anything like Aidian but... I wonder how much of him, his bleaker than bleak humour, the Satans bumsoot he's ground into me, the dispassion and detachment...
As Aidian, I strode through a dormitory and dispatched a half dozen brainwashed disciples of a cult, naive innocents, duped pawns of the guy I'd come to get. One got a shot off. The rest were spread, redly. I used thier blood to fuel my assasination of the target, a corrupt and horrid old lecher of a Vampire. I destroyed him and drank his soul to deepen the strength of mine, listened to his whining howling character being dissolved, absorbed and assimilated into my veins. I'd killed a busload of people to get to him, my only saving grace was they all died swiftly, albeit brutally. Also, artfully. I took the time to line up one of his henchmen with my shotgun, smash his lips through his broken teeth, lift him up against the wall and do a very nice ad-lib Jackson Pollock with is brains.
I sent a message to anyone else silly enough to do the same as this old and evil bastard had done.
What bothered me at the end of the night was the creeping smile of enjoyment. Something slightly sickly, something faintly putrid, tainting the anti-hero thing. This wasn't just Schadenfreude... this was genuine delight in making a charnel house, relishing the death, violence, bloodshed, the sowing of chaos.
I wonder what sort of monster I could have been if my life had been different.
I thank whatever power that Aidian, stays locked up in his box in the back of my brain.
I'm sure he'll be back at some point. On paper. In my head, on my lips as a character. Not as a real and genuinely horrific person made real by deed and action.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When you go see The Dark Knight, spare a thought for Heath. Poor bastard. He rode his beast too long and too hard and found out too late that it was the beast who ended up riding him. |
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| well just colour me ticked off |
[Jul. 11th, 2008|01:09 am] |
I may be a crusty bastard but I do have feelings...
Old flame messages me, pretty much out of the blue. She duly informs me she's going out with a newer version of me. Another ENTP, only this one is more athletic, more confident, employed as a builder in a steady job, (and probably younger). This is of course after she's picked my brain on psychological matters in regards to him, what to expect etc. She seems to expect me to effectively help her manage this guy, explain his charm to her. In effect, (to be my usual coarse self), give this guy another 2".
What's worse is I don't really know if it's just unvarnished insensitivity or spite/malice. She capable of the former. I knew that from the get go. Not concerned. I just wonder if this is some sort of passive aggressive bitterness. I'll freely admit I have been bitter when it comes to her. It's hard not to be and whilst it doesn't make me a bigger person to be that way, it's hardly unexpected or indeed unjustifiable.
Other thing she says is "I learn't a lot from you."
She all but admitted I had been right all along about her and her attraction to ENTP's. All the psychoanalysis I'd do with her on both of us was turning out to be accurate.
So I rock... to a degree... but seemingly not enough to warrant a return to grace with her. She'd rather move on to the fresh one. So despite the ego massage about being somewhat of a Sage, I feel a bit used. I say all the hard things, confront her with some of her shortcomings, flaws, help her deal with them and as a consequence because I was the one to dispense the tough love/kick up the arse... I get flushed, after three years of patience and consistency holding my line.
To add a few sprinkles of further distaste, it rubs in the fact that my fiscal and societal 'success' isn't so crash hot in most peoples estimations.
I have no idea what I'd say/think if she asked me to hook up again, my love life is bloody complicated as it is. I doubt there's much chance of it but that's not the point. Why does she tell me about him ? Was she just after data to crack this guys mind or is she out to slice me up a bit ?
I'd say I wouldn't be whining if I didn't think there was some injustice here.
Right hook, Left Upper Cut, Front Kick to the Bollocks...
*crumples*
Then there's the apparent undercurrent of warmth and reconciliation... though that could be wishful thinking. I am the original cynical but eternal optimist.
So yeah...
'scuse me whilst I be a bit of a sourpuss.
*sigh* |
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| Foxes |
[Jul. 7th, 2008|09:49 pm] |
It's lambing season.
The Neighbours have gone out spotlighting in the last few days and shot 13.
We went out, shot one and saw a half dozen at varying distances, none in a position where we could give chase.
I've sat in the lambing paddock myself nursing the 222. Had four shots at poor targets.
Mah Vixen and an incorrigible older cub came past, bold as brass. Luck was on their side.
I had to watch them for about 15 minutes waiting for an opportunity to line one of them up. Mah had to scold her youngster a few times, for approaching baited (poisoned) lamb carcasses, for heading towards my hide. Foxes learn from example. Nothing was plainer from just observing them for that amount of time.
I have respect for them. For animals in general. I'm often torn between multipile things when hunting, the ethics, the absurdities of killing an animal whose just doing what its supposed to do in it's natural setting simply because it's impinging on us humans, by eating another very poorly adapted and suited introduced animal we happen to like eating ourselves.
The strategy, the skill, the equipment involved always keep my interest. The death of a interesting and cunning animal isn't something I really like. I accept it as part of the game. Life and nature are indeed red in tooth and claw. I don't prescribe to the lions laying down with the lambs fantasy. Death is part of life. |
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| calling all Plastics technologists... |
[Jul. 4th, 2008|05:01 pm] |
I need you.
+sigh+
you have to work for free too
I wish I knew which plastic I should use, just exactly which fastener is going to give me the right kind of lock-up.
The devil of course... is in the details.
My heliostat design is coming together, though I do very much dislike these steps sideways and backwards.
I have at least found what looks like a pretty good place for injection moulding prototypes. It's still likely to be two grand to make...
+grumble+ |
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| Restless... |
[Jul. 4th, 2008|03:01 pm] |
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restless, restless... restless. |
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| rubbr willehs |
[Jun. 30th, 2008|06:17 pm] |
I'm still tripping.
Some time ago, as quite a few of you know, I made an initial casting of my Wifesbestfriend. I did it for two reasons.
1) The gigglefest and the mild shock value in perhaps sharing it with a few friends. Inducing some furious blushing, some nudge-nudge wink-wink sort of silliness
2) Playing with a unique and interesting set of tools and materials and hopefully gaining a degree of competency with them.
I achieved both. Everyone has had a great laugh with me and indeed laying on the kudos for sharing this sort of thing with them. I guess for some, it would take a lot of guts. It's a risk. If there was the slightest indication of being declared anything like undersized or in some other way inadequate, it would have resulted in a well shattered ego. After all, men are simple creatures, penis=ego. It's why condoms start at 'large' and go to 'extra huge'. No company is silly enough to make a 'small' condom.
Technically, in regards to working with dental alginate and plaster, it's been enlightening. Casting with these materials has been challenging but very cool. I have my confidence with them. The detail this stuff can capture is somewhat unbelievable. It's fingerprint fine. Which in this case adds a little to the scary factor.
The unexpected result was the orders.
Yeah.. you heard me right, orders.
Whilst I'm not going to say who of course, I've had people request some silicone copies of my JohnThomas, for use.
Once again, yes, you heard me right, use.
Not just a plaster cast to giggle at, a quite functional 1:1 replica bedflute. My bedflute.
I can't tell you how flattering that is. Nor how huge the kick is to get that sort of request. I don't really get why, when you can order something probably vastly better, with vibrating clit ticklers and all manner of stimulating doohickeys. Not to mention cheaper, given I can't get good silicone cheaply. I wish I was rich but I've had to ask for at least a defrayment to the cost of making them.
It does my head in. Girls all over the world, getting off on replicas of my trousersnake... I could well be pleasing girls across the globe... in my sleep.
Some suggest the reason why they and others like it is because it is mine. It's intimate.They know who made it, who it's modeled on and hence the familiarity is both comforting and erotic. If that's the case, its doubly flattering. I don't see myself as any bronzed god, nor do I think I'm really anything to shout about in the wedding tackle department. I've always thought my Heatseekingmoisturemissile wasn't exactly a Scud in scale but the consensus seems to be that it's not exactly small either, in fact, genuinely, on an objective, non male scale,its large.
+shrugs+
Then again the first lesson any girl learns about manhandling is that provided you've told him his sausage is massive first, anything else you say will be enthusiastically received. Man=Penis=Ego :)
+shrugs again+
Would any girl decide to be venturesome enough to ask for one if it wasn't big ?
I guess I'm setting myself up for this vulnerability/fragility. It's liberating, scary and highly amusing all in the same breath...
Lets just say I haven't stopped grinning since this whole thing kicked off.
+stares off into the middle distance lost in some erotic visualisations+
If anyone else is interested in seeing it, I have pics but they are not for general distribution. drop me an email at saeble@gmail.com The final silicone versions will be along in a week or two. |
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| patience |
[Jun. 30th, 2008|05:34 pm] |
Waiting 48hrs+ for a 30 minute chat...
I must be serious. :) |
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| stressing |
[Jun. 28th, 2008|12:06 am] |
...and I don't know who for, cos I don't really have a local trigger.
I hope everyone in my circle is ok. |
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| this is what heaven is like |
[Jun. 25th, 2008|05:38 pm] |
http://techshop.ws/
my idea of heaven anyways. :) |
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| +bitches+ |
[Jun. 24th, 2008|01:37 pm] |
so I go to Spore.com and try to do the right thing. I lay down my 10 bucks US for the full version of the Creature Creator via paypal, pretty much expecting that I wont get a discount on the full game when I eventually buy that too... but no... no dice.
I'm not a US citizen, one the greater unwashed who doesn't get access to the game.
It's like I suddenly expected EA to stop sucking.
Vain, naive and totally impossible hope.
If anyone wants to help out, please let me know. I can always play musical money and downloads to get one of you nice US persons to grab it for me and pass it on.
Fuck 'em. |
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| mollification |
[Jun. 22nd, 2008|11:15 pm] |
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I like me when I'm with a gal. It knocks so many of the sharper, coarser edges off me, the ones I can really do without. I only wish it was the case at the moment. When I say 'with' I simply mean regular company, from the simplest of platonic things to fucking like bunnies. |
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| Nothing burns... |
[Jun. 22nd, 2008|03:34 am] |
...like an old flame.
+sigh+
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I have everything and nothing to offer. all at once.
A limitless supply of potential. A very limited supply of success, even on my terms.
Is this the life I'm supposed to lead ?
I think a genuine and real insight and presage of one's life would be nothing but benefit, even if only fleeting, even if only a glimpse. Naught would bolster the confidence, set your jaw, stay your course and offer you solace, forbearance and an untouchable reservoir faith than a an ironclad, unquenchable glimpse of simply what will be. The trials and tribulations would never be less real, the pain, the suffering, the duress, perhaps the agony of living would be no less intense, no less terrible but a diamond hard and bright little seed would give you something to focus on, something to cling to when the waves are threatening to swamp you. Something to keep you swinging when nothing else on this earth or beyond is on your side, when you're 0.02% from dead.
I haven't really dreampt in months.
I ache.
The guy looking back in the mirror at me is about seven years older than I am.
The walls are closing in, granted, they are moving at a glacial speed... but they creak, groan and crack... and it's all to easy to envisage the life being crushed from me by an abysmal and horrifyingly slow, icy vice.
3.22am I'm tired enough now to fall asleep. Tired enough not to wake up when my back is well nigh in spasm from this crappy mattress. I'm tired on more planes than I can count. |
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