?

Log in

No account? Create an account
 
 
14 October 2006 @ 07:23 pm
"Maria knows the way," or "I think my fingers are still blue."  
When I was discussing blood tests with erikadoor, we realized that I have a high Prinny pressure problem. Every type of major component in my bloodstream has been replaced by Prinnies! As red blood cells, they are harried by the Etna in my soul, who commands them to carry oxygen to where it is needed. Upon completion of that task, they blow up, and are transported back to my heart and lungs to begin again. As white blood cells, they scurry to invaders and explode, destroying them. Their daggers, bombs and bodily remains form platelets. My life depends on their violent assortment of weaponry, for if they became pacifists, I would turn into a hemophiliac. Prinnies have also taken over many vital brain functions. If the Prinnies in my head went on strike, I'd stop breathing and die, which somehow also explains why I still have not yet managed to remove "dood" from my vocabulary. Finally, it accounts for why I'm cold all the damn time save for the occasional hot flash, as Prinny pieces don't retain warmth.

...

thursat thursat thursat thursat

thursat thursat

Chairs lost in the woods, never rescued, legs broken in a tumble. A stringless guitar. Messages of all sorts, written wherever human hands can reach.

Since there is so much to explore, I rarely return to any location just to see what's new. Since I was in the area, however, I stopped by the factory mentioned in this entry from May 29th. It stands next to a recreational area tucked beneath a bridge, where fewer hooligans were playing due to the cold weather. I passed through the courts area to explore behind the site in more detail.

The skull and its warning remained, and there were several new pieces, though the heavy foliage already obscured them. I got the feeling that all the growth had, perhaps, once been someone's garden. While there were natural flora with strange berries in abundance, there were also overgrown specimens of squashes and other plants that are usually intentionally cultivated. Someone had started something and let it go. As I stepped back to try to get full shots for my files, I noticed a pathway worn through the brush, which seemed to curve around the building. What was there to do but follow it?

I was under the bridge itself now. Bits of concrete and shards of glass were embedded in the pale, dusty soil. This material was packed hard in some places, but in others, rain had carved into it and weakened it, and it rested upon a still solid base like new snow. I had never thought about it, so I had not realized that the factory abutted the same hollow that the bridge spanned! The loose dirt made footing a bit precarious, but memories of walking down dunes helped me to control my slide. I was amazed by all that I saw tucked away down there, past the pillar and around the crumbling corner. Though I was able to traverse the area without too much difficulty, the steep precipice made getting far enough away to get a clear shot of anything almost impossible.

These photographs pretty much suck, but I nearly fell down the damn hill to get them, so up they go!

thursat thursat thursat thursat

thursat thursat thursat thursat

I could barely feel my fingers by the time I climbed back up. You know those fingerless gloves-in-mittens? I should probably find/invest in a pair of those ... or is there anyone on my Friends List skilled enough in the art of knitting-fu to create that of which I speak?

A lot of these pictures required a ton of post-processing in Photoshop. I think I refunked the camera's settings ... which, when combined with a cloudy day, does not do what lighting there was any justice. Despite that, I like thursat03.jpg.

The Mononoke Hime sticker-thing made me laugh like all hell, as I was (rather stupidly?) not expecting the two cultures to cross. It is also proof that you really can find most things on the Internet if you are willing to look for them ... I did a little digging at work and pulled up a Flickr account with a shot of what might be that very paste, taken by someone else, months ago.

Is the critter in thursat05.jpg a goat or a dog? I cannot tell.

The vine-things in thursat12.jpg make me shudder, for they remind me of water weeds, of which I have an intense, illogical distaste.

...

I had been wandering around near the busway for the past couple of days, trying to find a site that would enable me to take passable pictures of the pieces on concrete barriers across the way. The only potential one I found was on the side of a narrow road. They removed the sidewalk on the busway side, so I made a mental note not to go there during peak traffic hours, and I would have to accept the risk of some chatting motorist hitting me. I also had to shoot through a chain link fence with a very tight weave.

It was not nearly as harrowing as I thought it might be, for even though my sense of self preservation might be found wanting since I was standing on the side of the road with nowhere to go but up the fence should trouble arise, all of the motorists had a reasonably clear view of me and my bright attire. The photos I got were still terrible, however. After this, I really think my best option for good shots of the busway stuff is to obtain a wide angle lens/tripod, and then try to sweet talk the railroad company into escorting me onto the tracks. Hah hah ... that might be a project of some years.
...

Dude, if you are wearing track pants that make whooshy sounds with a flannel shirt in a color scheme last popular when I was two, you have no chance of obtaining my interest. You would need to show some amazing brain power and cutting humor in order to compensate for the horrible first impression your clothing caused, and let me tell you, reversing your course to follow me for five minutes before bothering me with your inane chatter does not count in the least. Sure, I didn't see you in the act of turning around, but thanks to your damn awful pants, I could hear your slow approach. Blech.

...

And now ... an AC:WW quote in memory of Daisy.

Bones: I've got dreams ... I just finished up the cape for my Fashion Lad outfit. [Anne's note: BONES IS A COSPLAYER!?] See, I've got dreams! Dreams of saving this world from bad taste!
Daisy: I have no idea what you're talking about. Wait! You're not talking about scrunchies, are you!? 'Cause I'll defend those to the death! Wanna fight!?
 
 
Current Mood: crazycrazy
Current Music: Aye aye, dood!
 
 
 
Giang (yang): aspencometeoraine on October 15th, 2006 05:35 am (UTC)
You know those fingerless gloves-in-mittens? I should probably find/invest in a pair of those ... or is there anyone on my Friends List skilled enough in the art of knitting-fu to create that of which I speak?

Err... gloves-in-mittens? I'm not sure what that is. But you can hop over to sockdreams.com and hopefully find what you need. I just got some arm warmers from them and I'm very excited to wear them once they are washed.
One Who Wanders: contemplativeabiona on October 15th, 2006 02:20 pm (UTC)
They're like ... fingerless gloves that have a mitten-like hood attached to their top side. That way, when you need your fingers, you pull the hood back (sometimes you can button it fast), and when you need your hands to be warm, you pull the hood over your fingers and it is as though you are wearing mittens. Make sense? I don't know the actual name of the thingie.

I love SockDreams. Must ... resist ...
Giang (yang): luscious hipscometeoraine on October 15th, 2006 08:59 pm (UTC)
I think understand what you mean. And if that's the case, perhaps you can buy fingerless gloves and mittens, then mutilate them into whatever piece of work through sewing. It may not be as pretty, but will get the job done.

...but then again I don't know how to knit so...