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cryptorphc

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(no subject) [Dec. 12th, 2012|04:47 pm]




=============================================================== +++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++







Wanderlust, DC. Rev 3.
Rendering a New World Cuz This One Sucks.








+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ ===============================================================



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(no subject) [Jan. 25th, 2010|02:20 am]
While i had 20 big black boots kicking at my gringo face and grounded ribs, i choked the bitch next to me, who´d pulled me down by my hair, and had me pinned. She passed out and let go. Andy had been so strict and demanding of our attention as he warned us that it always turns out this way.

We told him where we would be, to keep a look out for us, and he was videoing. But where was he? I saw the video later, they came after me, after i rescued my friend from a mob of men who ripped her shirt off. She ran to Andy, screaming and crying, he was consoling her. I was dancing. In the video, in the background, I saw it later. His lens fixed on her, tits, neck down, me in the background getting dragged to the corner. He was staring at her tits while I got the shit beaten out of me. I havent shown her the video, she´ll agree it was creepy.

I cant believe he left me like that, after rubbing in my face over and over that he knew it how it would turn out. I thought he would be there for me, so i endured the belittling lectures, and sometimes listened too. But now i know, Now i know that I can take care of myself.

So I whispered in his ear yesterday, while we were walking, and arguing, to meet his uncle, that I only ever fucked him to get over my ex. And its the truth, and he knows it is. He was so angry that he said he was going to beat the shit out of me for saying it, because it hurt, and i knew he would get the angry, but there was nothing he could do. His uncle was 20 yeards away, and norma was by our side. What is also the truth is that I wouldnt fuck anybody that I didnt love, and he knows this too. But I dont need this shit he´s been putting me through. This heartbreak, this vicious grip around my neck, from a highly indecisive and demanding man. The month with the horrible ex wife, who fucked with my head repeatedly because she stills loves him, his hard ons for our new 19 year old friend. My heart was already shredded by the stress thats been wracking me internally and externally. And surprisingly, I dont have nightmares or any indiecision left. Ive worked through everything that Ive been ignoring for years, and am at peace. This man is officially fucking with my peace.

Sorry Andy, but there will be no castle, unless its one that you build for yourself, and yes, then perhaps, I will be one of your six princesses, but the truth in this also is that I love myself more than you, and this princess will always be in another castle until she gets her godamn head straight.

For now, its over. I dont care how great your cock is, how many amazing orgasms in a row youve given probably every girl youve fucked, but me, or how warm your heart is (And your heart is the warmest Ive found) I treat myself better than you treat me, and so, when we come home, both of us, safely, sound, i will not see you again, every day, every night. You will have no right to demand information about where ive been or where i am, because i want to be as far the fuck away from you as I can.

You dont owe me anything, I will make sure of that by the time we split.

I can not live to have my heart continually broken by betrayal as such, not when Ive been so good to you.

But isnt this how it always ends? Another girl comes into the picture, and it doesnt matter how beautiful, kind, loving or devoted I am, I get pushed aside for a moment or two of revelous goddess worship, and it breaks my heart.

I am happy with how ive chosen to lead the past year of my life, but i miss the time I could have spent, still lonely, still alone. Well, Ill have plenty of time in the future, and it will be his year to hurt for the sake of my happiness.
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(no subject) [Dec. 26th, 2009|04:21 pm]
[Current Location |bol]
[mood | indifferent]
[music |WOW orchesrated chaos in bg]

Think I've got a Mandelbrot seed stuck 'tween my teeth. Will have to floss later.
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(no subject) [Mar. 6th, 2009|02:28 am]
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(no subject) [Mar. 5th, 2009|11:27 pm]
[mood | creative]
[music |starmachines | allein]

allein | by starmachines | lyrics ivy

> I can't help it I can't stop thinking
> i don't even remember
> all i have is this desire
>
> i feel so pretentious, why won't you look at me a moment longer, i could awe
> or cull you
> i want to draw you into me, i want to chat for hours, why is your life so
> beautifully formed
> and contentedly void of me.
>
> i think you are smart enough to see the power that a man like you could bind
> a girl like me.
> you are a good man, please let me read your stories, i know you saw me
> watching closely
> tracking down your glory; i would do the same, and have, and i don't want
> your pity.
>
> i would never hurt you, you are the one empowered, please just kiss me,
> lightly once,
> on the forehead, my sense of self is alight with desire for this stolen
> glimpse of self-attainment.
http://iiviina.net/starmachines/trax/1.mp3
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(no subject) [Feb. 27th, 2009|12:01 pm]
http://simple.wikipedia.org/wiki/Main_Page





(lol)
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(no subject) [Feb. 10th, 2009|02:32 pm]
[Tags|]
[Current Location |remote]
[mood | stalked]

cryptorphc# mv enlightened77 /dev/rm-rf/yourself/

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(no subject) [Jan. 23rd, 2009|06:00 pm]
Exhausted from Inaugural weekend, making amends with a long distance friend, leaving a job last minute, pissing them off and "burning bridges" where I didn't expect, leading an 8 hour Photoshop tutorial tomorrow for pocket-change in exchange, starting a new joerb at 8am sharp on monday. i didn't even know that this is where I was ... I thought today I might relax, and I wish I could get some work done for myself without falling asleep! got photos to post and memories to record before it's all washed away.

WHEN WILL I HAVE SOME TIME TO MYSELF???!!

FUCK.
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Obama's Inaugural Speech [Jan. 23rd, 2009|02:36 pm]
[Current Location |washington dc]
[mood | nostalgic]
[music |obama's voice, broadcasting by loudspeaker, echoeing off of the rolling planes]

My fellow citizens:

I stand here today humbled by the task before us, grateful for the trust you have bestowed, mindful of the sacrifices borne by our ancestors. I thank President Bush for his service to our nation, as well as the generosity and cooperation he has shown throughout this transition.

Forty-four Americans have now taken the presidential oath. The words have been spoken during rising tides of prosperity and the still waters of peace. Yet, every so often, the oath is taken amidst gathering clouds and raging storms. At these moments, America has carried on not simply because of the skill or vision of those in high office, but because We the People have remained faithful to the ideals of our forebearers, and true to our founding documents.

So it has been. So it must be with this generation of Americans.

That we are in the midst of crisis is now well understood. Our nation is at war, against a far-reaching network of violence and hatred. Our economy is badly weakened, a consequence of greed and irresponsibility on the part of some, but also our collective failure to make hard choices and prepare the nation for a new age. Homes have been lost; jobs shed; businesses shuttered. Our health care is too costly; our schools fail too many; and each day brings further evidence that the ways we use energy strengthen our adversaries and threaten our planet.

These are the indicators of crisis, subject to data and statistics. Less measurable but no less profound is a sapping of confidence across our land -- a nagging fear that America's decline is inevitable, and that the next generation must lower its sights.


Today I say to you that the challenges we face are real. They are serious and they are many. They will not be met easily or in a short span of time. But know this, America: They will be met.

On this day, we gather because we have chosen hope over fear, unity of purpose over conflict and discord.

On this day, we come to proclaim an end to the petty grievances and false promises, the recriminations and worn-out dogmas, that for far too long have strangled our politics.

We remain a young nation, but in the words of Scripture, the time has come to set aside childish things. The time has come to reaffirm our enduring spirit; to choose our better history; to carry forward that precious gift, that noble idea, passed on from generation to generation: the God-given promise that all are equal, all are free, and all deserve a chance to pursue their full measure of happiness.

In reaffirming the greatness of our nation, we understand that greatness is never a given. It must be earned. Our journey has never been one of shortcuts or settling for less. It has not been the path for the fainthearted -- for those who prefer leisure over work, or seek only the pleasures of riches and fame. Rather, it has been the risk-takers, the doers, the makers of things -- some celebrated, but more often men and women obscure in their labor -- who have carried us up the long, rugged path toward prosperity and freedom.

For us, they packed up their few worldly possessions and traveled across oceans in search of a new life.

For us, they toiled in sweatshops and settled the West; endured the lash of the whip and plowed the hard earth.

For us, they fought and died, in places like Concord and Gettysburg; Normandy and Khe Sahn.

Time and again, these men and women struggled and sacrificed and worked till their hands were raw so that we might live a better life. They saw America as bigger than the sum of our individual ambitions; greater than all the differences of birth or wealth or faction.

This is the journey we continue today. We remain the most prosperous, powerful nation on Earth. Our workers are no less productive than when this crisis began. Our minds are no less inventive, our goods and services no less needed than they were last week or last month or last year. Our capacity remains undiminished. But our time of standing pat, of protecting narrow interests and putting off unpleasant decisions -- that time has surely passed. Starting today, we must pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and begin again the work of remaking America.

For everywhere we look, there is work to be done. The state of the economy calls for action, bold and swift, and we will act -- not only to create new jobs, but to lay a new foundation for growth. We will build the roads and bridges, the electric grids and digital lines that feed our commerce and bind us together. We will restore science to its rightful place, and wield technology's wonders to raise health care's quality and lower its cost. We will harness the sun and the winds and the soil to fuel our cars and run our factories. And we will transform our schools and colleges and universities to meet the demands of a new age. All this we can do. And all this we will do.

Now, there are some who question the scale of our ambitions -- who suggest that our system cannot tolerate too many big plans. Their memories are short. For they have forgotten what this country has already done; what free men and women can achieve when imagination is joined to common purpose, and necessity to courage.

What the cynics fail to understand is that the ground has shifted beneath them -- that the stale political arguments that have consumed us for so long no longer apply. The question we ask today is not whether our government is too big or too small, but whether it works -- whether it helps families find jobs at a decent wage, care they can afford, a retirement that is dignified. Where the answer is yes, we intend to move forward. Where the answer is no, programs will end. And those of us who manage the public's dollars will be held to account -- to spend wisely, reform bad habits, and do our business in the light of day -- because only then can we restore the vital trust between a people and their government.

Nor is the question before us whether the market is a force for good or ill. Its power to generate wealth and expand freedom is unmatched, but this crisis has reminded us that without a watchful eye, the market can spin out of control -- and that a nation cannot prosper long when it favors only the prosperous. The success of our economy has always depended not just on the size of our gross domestic product, but on the reach of our prosperity; on our ability to extend opportunity to every willing heart -- not out of charity, but because it is the surest route to our common good.

As for our common defense, we reject as false the choice between our safety and our ideals. Our Founding Fathers, faced with perils we can scarcely imagine, drafted a charter to assure the rule of law and the rights of man, a charter expanded by the blood of generations. Those ideals still light the world, and we will not give them up for expedience's sake. And so to all other peoples and governments who are watching today, from the grandest capitals to the small village where my father was born: Know that America is a friend of each nation and every man, woman and child who seeks a future of peace and dignity, and that we are ready to lead once more.

Recall that earlier generations faced down fascism and communism not just with missiles and tanks, but with sturdy alliances and enduring convictions. They understood that our power alone cannot protect us, nor does it entitle us to do as we please. Instead, they knew that our power grows through its prudent use; our security emanates from the justness of our cause, the force of our example, the tempering qualities of humility and restraint.

We are the keepers of this legacy. Guided by these principles once more, we can meet those new threats that demand even greater effort -- even greater cooperation and understanding between nations. We will begin to responsibly leave Iraq to its people, and forge a hard-earned peace in Afghanistan. With old friends and former foes, we will work tirelessly to lessen the nuclear threat, and roll back the specter of a warming planet. We will not apologize for our way of life, nor will we waver in its defense, and for those who seek to advance their aims by inducing terror and slaughtering innocents, we say to you now that our spirit is stronger and cannot be broken; you cannot outlast us, and we will defeat you.

For we know that our patchwork heritage is a strength, not a weakness. We are a nation of Christians and Muslims, Jews and Hindus -- and nonbelievers. We are shaped by every language and culture, drawn from every end of this Earth; and because we have tasted the bitter swill of civil war and segregation, and emerged from that dark chapter stronger and more united, we cannot help but believe that the old hatreds shall someday pass; that the lines of tribe shall soon dissolve; that as the world grows smaller, our common humanity shall reveal itself; and that America must play its role in ushering in a new era of peace.

To the Muslim world, we seek a new way forward, based on mutual interest and mutual respect. To those leaders around the globe who seek to sow conflict, or blame their society's ills on the West: Know that your people will judge you on what you can build, not what you destroy. To those who cling to power through corruption and deceit and the silencing of dissent, know that you are on the wrong side of history; but that we will extend a hand if you are willing to unclench your fist.

To the people of poor nations, we pledge to work alongside you to make your farms flourish and let clean waters flow; to nourish starved bodies and feed hungry minds. And to those nations like ours that enjoy relative plenty, we say we can no longer afford indifference to suffering outside our borders; nor can we consume the world's resources without regard to effect. For the world has changed, and we must change with it.

As we consider the road that unfolds before us, we remember with humble gratitude those brave Americans who, at this very hour, patrol far-off deserts and distant mountains. They have something to tell us today, just as the fallen heroes who lie in Arlington whisper through the ages. We honor them not only because they are guardians of our liberty, but because they embody the spirit of service; a willingness to find meaning in something greater than themselves. And yet, at this moment -- a moment that will define a generation -- it is precisely this spirit that must inhabit us all.

For as much as government can do and must do, it is ultimately the faith and determination of the American people upon which this nation relies. It is the kindness to take in a stranger when the levees break, the selflessness of workers who would rather cut their hours than see a friend lose their job which sees us through our darkest hours. It is the firefighter's courage to storm a stairway filled with smoke, but also a parent's willingness to nurture a child, that finally decides our fate.

Our challenges may be new. The instruments with which we meet them may be new. But those values upon which our success depends -- hard work and honesty, courage and fair play, tolerance and curiosity, loyalty and patriotism -- these things are old. These things are true. They have been the quiet force of progress throughout our history. What is demanded then is a return to these truths. What is required of us now is a new era of responsibility -- a recognition, on the part of every American, that we have duties to ourselves, our nation and the world; duties that we do not grudgingly accept but rather seize gladly, firm in the knowledge that there is nothing so satisfying to the spirit, so defining of our character, than giving our all to a difficult task.

This is the price and the promise of citizenship.

This is the source of our confidence -- the knowledge that God calls on us to shape an uncertain destiny.

This is the meaning of our liberty and our creed -- why men and women and children of every race and every faith can join in celebration across this magnificent Mall, and why a man whose father less than 60 years ago might not have been served at a local restaurant can now stand before you to take a most sacred oath.

So let us mark this day with remembrance, of who we are and how far we have traveled. In the year of America's birth, in the coldest of months, a small band of patriots huddled by dying campfires on the shores of an icy river. The capital was abandoned. The enemy was advancing. The snow was stained with blood. At a moment when the outcome of our revolution was most in doubt, the father of our nation ordered these words be read to the people:

"Let it be told to the future world ... that in the depth of winter, when nothing but hope and virtue could survive... that the city and the country, alarmed at one common danger, came forth to meet [it]."

America. In the face of our common dangers, in this winter of our hardship, let us remember these timeless words. With hope and virtue, let us brave once more the icy currents, and endure what storms may come. Let it be said by our children's children that when we were tested, we refused to let this journey end, that we did not turn back, nor did we falter; and with eyes fixed on the horizon and God's grace upon us, we carried forth that great gift of freedom and delivered it safely to future generations.
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proled trolled prose [Jan. 13th, 2009|04:18 pm]
[Tags|]
[Current Location |skunk tunnel of weird]
[music |drip drop tap. fuck.]

Ah, the strange, savage lush lusting loins of desire.
(so glad I came out of that with all claws intact.)

stranger still he wept, stranger I desire;
Like a mobile home sideways on trailer across wide highways westward bound.
and in these heels, I climb centuries and skyscrapers in simply standing upright.

The stranger salvaged lust on the shores of desire
(fingers thinking one thing claws tapping another)

nabokov's lolita is a pearl that I should not swallow so excitedly nor extuingish so soon.

tired, sore, old and dull, fading, I do long for this languid prose as the protagonist did so for his tabooey nymphet.
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(no subject) [Dec. 22nd, 2008|01:07 pm]
i need a box to ssh into as my business suited 6667 tube is secured by the thirsty security suited ironkat.
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This is ground control to Major Thom. [Dec. 16th, 2008|04:28 pm]
[mood |bored.]

i'm embracing the concept of a flat world. the kind that I'd imagine when the history of knowledge is still darkish, but dawning - is limited -- and has not proven (or even seen reprographics + photos of) a round world, nor a globe, nor even a solar system, though the hints were out there, as culled by Galileo with his telescope

Such as now, where I don't know how large the sea of the universe stretches, and how many levels of circular orbiting things go bigger and small, meanwhile complex as an ecosystem or cell in homeostasis (or shotgun) before cognizance and self-awareness once again persist -- at least by my own specie's recognition and recording. I can't even imagine how to place a god in this plane of hall of mirrors of pasts and futures, of complex and mysterious macros and micros that helix around and into my human body, spirit and fabric -- so I don't.

I smell tinctures of 10xTAE in the lab air, and the relaxed and content air of those around me, and I've never felt so close to such an urgently important research such as this science happening around me. (There is an urgent science more important, more urgent, such as sexual implosion, explosion perversion, attraction and ....)

This lab is limited to analyzing the neural pathways and cellular behaviors/characteristics of the workings of human awareness, cognition through a single sense of hearing, and communication through speech. It's such an itty bitty little tidbit of our network of knowledge, but that network of human awareness is perhaps itty bitty enough still that's it's not yet round.

When I imagine the body of knowledge that I have access to, rather, when I imagine the substance of the research, my very surroundings, I recognize a huge shore of unknown beyond the horizon of what is known and tangible
... and I imagine that Christopher Columbus felt conviction in the same manner that I begin to, and that such scientists inventors and explorers commit to.

Einstein, Niremburg, Armstrong and Galileo will be the puja on my mantle tonight, in honor for those named and those unknown; that which leaves me in shivers, and insatiable in curiosity.
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To be Domesticated. [Dec. 15th, 2008|11:49 pm]
[Tags|]

My feral moon cat
claws frantic through sealed screen
yet she will wander home
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(no subject) [Dec. 15th, 2008|10:01 pm]
[Current Location |slum tunnel]
[mood |lost]
[music |echo]

I seek to accept the suffering that my longings bring, and to not accidently abuse myself or others .in the wrong moment.

From the bead of hot poison between my loin to the migraine pressing the stretched walls of my impregnated mind, I will enjoy this right to suffer my own passions.

I will hold it in with calculation to relinquish my successes, or to the press the folds of my tangled sanity, whichever awaits me near and far.
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Book List [Dec. 15th, 2008|09:19 pm]
[Tags|, , , , ]

Book List (In Progress):

1. The Fountainhead / Ayn Rand
2. Jane Sexes It Up
3. Thus Spoke Zarathustra / Friedrich Nietsche
4. Lolita / Vladimir Nabokov


1. Objective strength, and self-awareness through selfish perseverance
2. Identification of socialized romantic longings that weaken my sexual identity and sense of right to independence.
3. Learning to stare into the face of emptiness without flinching or feeling loss or neediness.
4. To identify the suffering of my longings, to enjoy my longing to suffer, to possess balance and mastery over my needs without compromising my concepts of true exaltation.
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Can't wait till i get mah paws on some .gov Paint.EXE! [Dec. 14th, 2008|11:07 pm]
[Tags|]
[Current Location |heathcliff's office]
[mood | vocally morose]



The PMS Avenger!
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(no subject) [Dec. 14th, 2008|08:15 pm]


Finally got the pic of my election votes up.

I retained my voter rights in VA because I knew the blue would count for more in this state than in DC.
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Business Suit vs Spirited Away [Dec. 12th, 2008|02:32 pm]
[mood | morose]

The prospect of removing everything valuable in my life to accommodate an increase in wealth makes me want to hold a loaded glock up to the side of my head. I don't know if I'd pull the trigger.

How does a business suit swallow such a lonely life?

I can't fathom. I doubt I'll survive as a business suit, but my problem is that I have never been willing to break my spirit in order to try.

I just have to remember that I'm putting in my time for the freedom and growth that I want later. Higher Education, funding for supplies and evening classes. Studying Abroad. Traveling Abroad. Traveling to that wistful desert I still miss so badly.

Now that I remember these things, I don't feel so lonely anymore.


Goals for 2008/Spring 2009:

- Sign up for a fine arts / painting class. Acrylics / Large Canvas / Higher Level - Abstract or Portraiture.
- Join the Air National Guard.
- Learn to stay in one place for 1 year minimum and like it.
- Learn to keep a job with no disciplinary action from employer for 1 year minimum.
- Stop drinking or limit to 1-2 drinks per week, no exceptions. Do this naturally and not in a binge/purge manner.
- In "bed" with a book (not a man *sigh*) by midnite on weeknights. No drinking on week nights.
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(no subject) [Dec. 8th, 2008|12:30 pm]
[music |Combichrist | In the Pit]

Tango in a mosh pit to aggro-EBM. Combat boots, knives in backs, big scary sweaty men, coming to and fro in all directions. Push and pull, and tango, and moments when Buka's arms and shoulder impacted to protect my broken shoulder and neck from the faster bullets of aggression. Strays, waves, when a brother falls on the floor, don't step on his head, help him up.

This is the army, this is the Bruderschaft.

--(July 2008)


Went to the ohGr show last night at RNR Hotel. Wow. Just, fukkin, wow. First, reunited to awesome music with some pals from the goth scene. Christian grabbed my arm and steered me to the very front. Then his friends, recently married Shannon and Mike steered me in front of them, so I was in the middle and one row back. It was so packed, and I'm not one to bob my head to tunes. I either dance hard or stand still and take it in hardcore, so "stand still and take it in hardcore" is exactly what I did. I think I have a better take on ohGr's particular flavor of farce, which is satire. The singer recited a poem about bacon, which I am fairly certain was a satire of Ginsberg's America.


Loki, of ohGr.

And then I noticed Loki. I don't often find men that actually catch my interest in the least, let alone to go gaaaaah for. I didn't go gaaaah, but I did go hmm over this particular synth player. I know I know, way to ogle like a little fan girl, but I really liked his presence, which is more than I can say for anyone else (male or female) I've ever met in DC, excluding my good friends Kal and Legba. Focused, melancholy, fucking intense. There was no way to meet him without ruining what I felt, so I just stared, taking him in while I had him there in front of me.

I got really claustrophobic after a bit and dashed upstairs to wander and check my eye makeup. Grabbed a guiness and saw sceeter. Grabbed another for him and chatted for a bit. Gave him a hard time, asking when he was finally gonna move in. I bitched a bit about the lack of mosh-pit. That's what the show reallly really really needed to become supreme, and la-di-da, sure enough, Sceeter told me, there was a mosh pit in full swing.

OGRE of ohGr

I slam my guiness, rush the pit, and who do I see in the very middle as the slack jawed, wide-eyed instigator -- ? -- but Mr. Kal!! I gave him a good hard shove to let him know that this was MY mosh pit now, and he winked back at my presence. It was a nice hard push-pit, I dropped to the floor once, and reached up my hands. My favorite thing in the world happened, where the bro I'd just shoved out of my way before I collapsed to the bottom, grabbed my hand and pulled me back up into a clasped elbowed embrace. He then pushed me back into the pit. Christian was really careful to let abut 15 guys know that I was good people and they should look out for me. Like I can't stand my own in a DC mosh-pit after banging with some brother's at combichrist in Hollywood? And crowd-surfing since age 14? (Oh buka, how you WOULD have riled things up at this ohGr show). But I appreciated the hippy-hardcore affection from my friend, and enjoyed meeting new people, and feeling SPECIAL hehe (giggle giggle) cuz people were looking out for me, cuz i was just a little cute little girl with long black finger nails and smeared eyeliner and COMBAT BOOTS in the middle of an intense pushpit. This guy named sean came up and grabbed my arms for a tango back and forth through the pit. How the fuck did he read my mind? It was AWESOME! I think he was surprised when he saw how much I held my own as a highly skilled tango mosher, and the pit caved away a little to let us by. Oh my god Oh my god Oh my god, it was SO awesome - I had THE best time. At one point Christian kept grabbing me and trying to push me out of the pit and back into his little safe circle of friends, and it even got a little forceful. But resisting flirty flirty men is my expertise, so I pushed back as hard as I needed to. His last resort was grabbing me by my leather jacket, pushing me hard into the safe circle, then twisting himself in front of me to continue pulling me in closer. I had to twist really hard to get his claws off of my right arm, then with one arm free, turn and elbow my left arm away from him as hard and fast as I could. He really riled the pit up, and pushed and shoved hard. It was such sweet aggression, and I still feel euphoric from it. I could tell by Kal's soft and sparkling eyes at the end of the night that he'd had the same dopamine release from that nice dose of brotherly tough-love, ohGr style.
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(no subject) [Dec. 4th, 2008|01:35 am]
i found myself recruiting myself into a silent valley stupored political chat. violently sedated, violented opinionated, violently animate political conversation, and after 6 rounds of finding myself cut off by louder voices i resigned.

While listening I couldn't help but notice how fucking naive aka unresearched the conversation was. I have all but stopped blaming my angsty naivety on "them", "those", and "why", and that was the premise of "their" argument.

I like squatting sofas, it allows me a sense of financial freedom and gain.
I like listening to other people, especially topics of how they manage their wealth, consistency and lives.

But goddamn, doesn't anyone here in silent valley know how to hack? how to read a newspaper? how to sleep on a floor? how to let go of social constraints? how to stop talking and start thinking? how to stop listening to others, to stop drinking, how to stop sedating themselves to make financial ends meet?

how to prepare for anything OTHER than financial means to surviving?

I've listened to survival plan after survival plan, and it usually goes along the lines of hacking out a day job no matter what constraint - be it alcoholism, fear, interdependence, poor family/home values.

I hope that I'm the only one whose survival plan is anti-social enough to consider curses/spells, terrain, weaponry, thieving, and more realistic things such as steering Washington DC away from flooding by it's obelisk horn. In the case that survivalism requires needs that go beyond financial means, I'll be a lone trooper and I'm happy for that. (Unless Fallout 3 gives MY city away. )

I mean, jeeeezus, what is a HOPE campaign going to inspire in flighty methane bubbles that find profit from assimilating our global atmosphere?

i could get smacked like larry is right now, but that's not my hope campaign. I have better things to do. Like go PTSD on every apathetic mother fucker i come across. Or just shut the fuck up when i encounter the typical bliss-filled state of ignorant complacence.

If only mother gaia had the same regard. I won't place bets on that statement.






My conclusion is that: Passion in others seems to stop at a certain point. Rand's objectivists had the opposite dilemma.
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(no subject) [Nov. 24th, 2008|07:30 pm]

     ^------^
  =|   o   O   |=
     \  =±=  /   ^                     0    O   
       >  ~ <     (  )                 o               0
     /          \   [  ]               <><           o
    |             |   [  ]                         ><> 
    | :         ' |  [  ]
    | \     /  /| (  ]
    [ _]__.[_][_].._/


$aefCat $ekurity $ystems


   [ Disarm.d ]
link2 comments|post comment

(no subject) [Nov. 24th, 2008|07:19 pm]

     ^------^
  =|   o   O   |=
     \  =±=  /   ^
       >  ~ <     (  )
     %   o      \  [  ] 
    |    <><   |   [  ]
    | :         ' |  [  ]
    | \     /  /| (   ]
    [ _]__.[_][_].._/


$aefCat $ekurity $ystems


   [ Activat.d ]


 $aefCat $ekurity $ystems: All of Your fish are $afe, thanX to $aefcat.
linkpost comment

(no subject) [Nov. 14th, 2008|06:11 pm]
"A people that values it's privileges above
its principles soon loses both."

-- Dwight Eisenhower, 1953 ( Day 1 of first 100 Days)
linkpost comment

(no subject) [Nov. 8th, 2008|12:35 pm]
[music |rickroll]



Rick Astley Remix Project w/ Buka.

I am going to rip you up
I am going to tie you down
I am going to drag you around
And Hurt You.

I am going to give you up
I am going to wear you down
I am going to run you around
And Hurt You.


* * *

Buka - Done any further recording on this?
The video will be easy - we really don't even need the video at first.
I can't stop thinking about it!

I could be the lolita kylie minogue, and we could give you a nice rick-wave in your black locks.
link5 comments|post comment

(no subject) [Nov. 8th, 2008|12:13 pm]
Found myself gazing in wonder, once again, at the Washington Monument. When I'm up there, gazing out from under the blinking red lights, a certain Covenant song shatters my ears, my soul, my sense of hope and freedom. The mall and it's memorials fall underwater, and I wait for the ships to come. Up there, I feel that I am the commander of the sinking city, and that I may be the last to drown.



must hold this thought.
linkpost comment

Today is Guyfawks Day and Fio's Birthday. And Obama is President [Nov. 5th, 2008|05:56 pm]
[Tags|]


Last night, Washington DC exploded into the most amazing party.



I've protested many a cause in my lifetime in DC, in RVA, in South America, but never have I seen such a wild and forceful and jubilant crowd of Americans. Everyone, EVERYONE, was screaming and hugging and tooting their horns! Absolute chaos exploded on 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, the place was mobbed by freedom chanters, drum circles, protestor, and unity.

"Miss President USA 2012"

I made an appearance as an impersonation of Tina Fey.

Look for me in the crowd outside the White House, and running wild down the pre-dominantly African-American cultured U st in Columbia Heights. I offered fresh baked cookies for every citizen who would vote for me in 2012. "I'm not sure yet about what to do about those immigrants, no." There must be over 200 photos of me in this costume floating around the internet. If you find one, link it. I need more pics of this persona, it's one of my favorites, yet.


2:30am: A burst of Democratic Nationalism outside the White House Gates.

Last night, outside of the White House, feeling the excitement that is the change that Barak Obama will bring to our country, I chanted the Star Spangled Banner and the Pledge of Allegiance for the first honest time in my life. Yay for Nationalism, it's like the worst kind of virus. But this is epic for a lot of American Citizens, for America within our global socia-political ecosystem, and for humanity, i feel, as a whole; I am happy for this change.

I can feel the racial and global tension that I've always been so sensitive to lifting already.
link1 comment|post comment

(no subject) [Nov. 4th, 2008|03:20 am]
A few moments ago I took 2 series of 1 hours naps. I set a timer each time, and managed to awake within 12 seconds of my timer going off.

This reminds me of my frequent lunch time naps at NIH, where I would set a time for 40 minutes total, and wake up feeling revived exactly 22 minutes into the nap, then doze lightly into a second 15 minute round. I would then awake again at the 39 minute point, check my emails in relaxation for the next 12 minutes before heading back to my desk.

This time, however, I had some horrendous nightmares. I don't doubt they were related to my experience with Kal this weekend, which was an encounter that I found result in quite a bit of insight to his character in many regards.

First, I was stuck in a park, wearing a blue trench coat, I was not tired, but defeated, and in the doldrums. I was not interested in my surroundings. The park was outside of a hospital, and I could see the clay red brick of the hospital just behind the trees.

It was a brisk still winter day. There were leaves on the trees. There was an iron BarBQ pit next to the log slab i sat on. The iron was cold, and I poke it with a long branch.

Sighing, I stodd up, shoved my hands in my pockets and walked aimlessly up the path, towards the cold brick building. There was a bus stop with a bell phone booth (USA style and exposed, not UK style). Some young children and their mother were waiting for the bus.

I walked up to the phone to place a phone call. I started to cough uncontrollably. Long strands of phlegm, the color of bare flesh and lesions, escaped from my throat. In the shiny quarter slot, I could see my face mirrored, and I opened my mouth wide. The phlegm went on seemingly forever, and I had to extract it with my hand, and chucked it on the ground. There was a good pound of the stuff.

The kid saw it and started crying.

I had to do this one more time while the bus pulled up. The bus driver exited the bus, saw my state, and said, You need to get to a hospital immediately. I shook my head at her, and walked briskly to the bus. She boarded and queried further, "You should have gotten that checked out a long time ago."

It was at about this time that my teeth started to clench, as if they did not fit together correctly. It prevented me from closing my mouth correctly. I walked to the back of the bus. There was a support team back there. Almost like an A Team, or Bible Camp. It was a crew of men in their 20-40s, about 5 of them. We were chatting, all bound for the same, likely Lutheran, destination.

Not that I recall, our destination was a room in a Lutheran Church that I used to attend many years ago as a child.

My teeth were still clenching, and the pressure was growing greater and greater. I had difficulty maintaining conversation, due to the uncomfortable gnashing of my teeth.

As the men sat in a windowed corner of the cold brown room, I visited the restroom, where I opened my mouth into the mirror to examine my teeth. The pressure was excruciating, and as I leaned down to splash my face above the sink, all of my teeth suddenly popped out of my gums. My eyes went wide, I was totally shocked, and thinking strangely that "at least now I can have a reconstructive procedure on my smile) I opened my mouth, and spat my teeth into my palm, which was cupped around my mouth. I slid my fingers around, and some teeth were hanging by threads. The motion of the fingers, pulled the threads away from my gums, and the remaining teeth feel into my hand.

All teeth fell out except a few, which were scattered around my mouth. I placed my teeth into a cup quickly, then scolded myself, because the cup was littered with unpopped corn kernels. I then had to set about extracting the kernels from the teeth and vice versa.

I was overwhelmingly thankful that my teeth had fallen out as there was no longer any pressure remaining in my mouth.

These two dreams put me in a state of concern for my health. My teeth are fine, and I don't have any respiratory issues.

In fact, it seems like end of the unexpected smoking habit I picked up this summer, THANKS BUKA for repaying me. Buka attempted to make me quite smoking while we were in college by smoking in front of me, He was a staunch non-smoker, and it had a huge guiltful impact, and made me quit. Now, 5 years later, he's a habitual Nat Sherman smoker. The extent of his revenge was apparent, as my disdain towards his smoking over a 2 month period eventually resulted in me picking up the habit, and going full force with it for 4 months total.

I realize that I've smoked 2 cigarettes total in the past 12 days, and I smoked them only while I was very not sober at Exposure this Thursday. While this is still 2 too-many, it's a drastic improvement from the 3-4 cigarettes a day I found myself smoking while under incredible pressure this late summer.

i've never been addicted to smoking in my life, much like my Dad, and unlike my Ma, Bro and Sis, who are intense smokers. I was quite concerned that I'd finally been gotten. It's the last thing I want really.

I hope that by the end of 2008, I will be accepted into the Air Guard, and shipped down to Lackland this summer, for a 2.5 month training spree - aka boot camp. I will certainly need all the lungs I can get to keep up my old record 6m20s mile, and improve on it.

For those of you who don't understand how radical Ivy could possibly consider joining the National Guard, I have some food for thought before you submit your commentary. First of all, you clearly don't know me, or my motives, or the National Guard regime all that well. In practice, I am more anti-captialist than I am Anarchist, as my interests in social-anarchy are mostly literary. Military benefits and compensation are the most socialized of any program in the US. If I wanted a more socialized welfare, then I would move back to Europe. This doesn't replace my interests in moving back to Europe.

Further, this is an opportunity for me to gain self-displine, physical endurance, more "camp" experience, a TS security clearance, further technical training, repayal of the loans I took out to complete my Bachelors degree, and funding for school. The Air guard is approximately a monthly commitment of 2-5 days for 6 years.

In the past, my interests have been more towards joing Peace Corps, but my financial instability, and general instability that started right around when my parents uprooted our lives to move back to England, makes me feel insecure about committing to a volunteer effort in a foreign land for 2.5 years. I think Peace Corps will be a retirement thing for me. While I feel a strong sense of civic duty, I need to ground myself. Hence the decision towards Air Guard. Nationalistic Duty - No. I will not delve further into that statement on a public forum.

I like the opportunities presented by the Air Guard to embellish my technical knowledge within a short program. I have a very short attention span for non-artistic academia, but I have learned that beyond my artistic mind, there also lies an Engineer's mind. While I am already qualified to become an officer due to my bachelor's degree, if I chose a "Hard-to-Fill" position, such as f-16 weaponry mechanic, or jet engine mechanic, it would require comprehensive technical training, and the ability to advance more quickly through the ranks, as well as gain up to $1k a month towards my eventual Masters and Doctorates degrees.

If I can complete all of these things by the time I am 30, I will be content with myself.

I also don't really want to stick around waiting for the right man to find me and steal me into wedlock. I am not content with any relationship I've had thus far, yet I'm finding myself looking to root down. If I'm not busy, then doing so, or acting upon such hopes may be the worst decision I've made in my life.

The criticism I find myself facing most frequently, is " Ivy, you're all over the place, we just don't know where you're at."

I'm hungry. Has anyone else felt hungry?

About the teeth. I'm not sure that someone close to me, such as my grandmother, is going to die, but I think rather, that some relationship issues that have been plaguing my happiness lately will no longer be causing me pain in the near future. It's important to always remain sure of oneself, and in love with ones' self against all odds.

Speaking of which, I need to call my Ma and let her know about the teeth. My Nan's been in and out of surgery lately, but hell, for an 89 year old widower, she's been kicking it quite nicely for a long time. If I did not see her before she died, I would not feel regretful, as I have always made the absolute most of my time with her on our rare visits to London. She's lived a long, good life, so I feel that is not much to be sad about if she were to pass.

However, I would still enjoy the opportunity to visit her in London, and perhaps take care of her while holding a job over there. Perhaps this Spring is will do this, if all else goes as planned.

hearts!
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(no subject) [Oct. 5th, 2008|10:34 pm]
[Tags|]
[Current Location |#crows nest]
[mood | introspective]
[music |covenant | calls the ships to port]

Trust a photographer to conduct many affairs with many subjects.

A moment ago, a soldier and the city. That photograph (the top one) will be circulating in Washingtonian Magazine at the end of October. We'll see if it makes museum walls.

Now ... The city and I, alone.



Thursday:

This thursday, Nat and I ventured down to the DC Fish Market. We showed up around 8:30pm, and the place was still alive ... except for the fish, which were copious and mostly dead. I had a nice meal of boston clam chowder, a cob of corn, and a stuffed crab shell. Nat had fish and chips, the fish was flounder, and served in a mess over the chips. This perked my interest, as this messy delight was the closest to genuine fish and chips I've yet caught in the States. Also catching my interest was the total price for our combined meal -- well under $20. I am going back to try the halibut+chips, the cod+chips, the tilapia+chips, and perhaps even the catfish+chips.






Nat, the awkward subject.





I found this to be especially noteworthy - Independence Food Stamps accepted here. So, while it's been proven that DC Food stamps can not be used for postage, they can be traded for excellent sea delicacy. If I do continue to climb further up my anti-corporate welfare-seeking ladder of anti-doom (experiment), I would have to give the food stamps some extra props because cats like me sure love fish.

DC Fish Market is located on 12th St and Maine St NW, just under the 395 Bridge. Take 12 St S.





Friday:



Happy Birthday, Kal!

To celebrate his birthday coming up soon, Kal took me out to see a performance of 1984 in the Atlas District of Washington, DC. For the second fail ever in Kal's recorded life, we missed the plane. AKA, tickets had sold out. But I was secretly relieved as any re-rendition of 1984 is usually painful for my peers, who are subjected to hours of my scholarly snobbery, and for myself, upon feeling jabs of misinterpretation taint my appreciation for the novel. We, instead, attended a Junior Anti-Sex League Meeting to be held at my studio, after picking up Victory Gin, Victory Jagermeister and Victory Goldschlager from the DC Barrel. The prices at the Barrel actually beat the liquor prices at Fort Bolling's Commissary, which totally surprised the hell out of me. I was so excited that I dismissed Kal from my attentions once and for all ... Only to find myself faced with walking to the meeting in stilettos. To make it up to him, we indulged in some curb-side ghetto snacks, my treat, then rushed to the JASL meeting -- fashionably late, as usual.




Sunday:

Woke up with an overwhelming sense of being caged in, and ran across the hall for a cafe leche. Armed with CityPaper, Notebook and banana, I ventured out to the floating terrace and plowed through the Museum section of the CityPaper. Called Fiona, and immediately regretted it. Next time she gives me family-drama hell, calls me in-expertise, calls my friendship with Kal strange, or the whatnot, I have a good line to feed her about alternate lifestyle : vanilla. I am into bdsm, and she has known this of me for years, and has largely based the gothic portion of her wardrobe off of my own sense of fetish and bdsm. She always looked up to me for my alternate musings of life, but now she calls upon them as points of weakness. She just doesn't like Kal, and so does not understand (strangely) my perfectly understandable attraction towards him. Rather than accept, she clings to ill-rounded judgement and uses that to propel her other fears about the darkness I've left her in regarding the rest of my life. I don't tell her what I don't like about her 19-year old booty sleeping for no cost under a 36-year old man's roof, I see why it works for her, and for him, why it makes them happy and I support it with good faith rather than try to deconstruct it with taboo. The latter may be a fun game, but simply not reaching out could be more fun. Besides, i'd rather her grow out of her immaturity and prejudices than find myself growing into it. Regarding Kal, he's a very positive influence, and perhaps as controlling in some ways as my mother, father and sister. That's why they don't like him.

Anyway. After shaking fiona and our issues off of the phone, I took a deep breath of the crisp morning air and delved back into my museum quest.



Museum of the Americas "Oscar Niemeyer" exhibit sounded like a good destination, so I ran back in, threw some hairspray in my hair, brushed my teeth, and was on the bus to the museum district within 4 minutes flat. Oh, Oscar Niemeyer, What a rubbish architect. The museum of the Americas was pretty cool though.







i loved the blue tile lined the walls, and the brick sconced floor.


Some long shots of the garden room:



Also, the state of security seems to be especially noteworthy.


I walked through the gardens, and gazed into an empty reflecting pool for a while. I'm not sure which I like more -- gushing fountains or empty pools. Perhaps the latter as they emanate a sense of stillness, and a evoke a post-modern sense of emptiness within society's tributes to it's own greatness. Yar, too many words.



Found myself gazing in wonder, once again, at the Washington Monument. I asked a park ranger why the flags were at half-mast, and he answered that October 5 is National Firefighters' Day. I didn't even finish my next question before he winked and pulled a crushed unused ticket out of his uniform pocket and ushered me into the next tour. Wow. How unexpected; there's no way I could turn down an offer to gaze, once again, down upon my city.


For some reason, when I'm up there, gazing at the blinking red lights, a certain Covenant song shatters my ears, my soul, my sense of hope and freedom. The equivalent german term for the feeling is: einsturzende neubauten. The whole landscape of the mall and it's memorials fall underwater, and I wait for the ships to come. All the while I am up so high above washington dc that I may be the last to drown. I may even be the commander of the sinking city, I cant quite tell.


Lost and longing for 16th st, and to identify every building in my northward facing view, my eyes were soft and my notebook was out.



E, 500 ft. That shadow sweeps across the mall, pointing to the entire surrounding city.


NE, 500 ft. (Federal Triangle, Executive Building)


N, 500 ft. (16th St, Cathedral of Immaculate Conception, Rock Creek Park, Silver Spring, 14th St)


NW, 500 ft. (Kennedy Center, Georgetown, Key Bridge, Museum of Americas,)


W, 500 ft. (Reflecting Pool, Lincoln Memorial, Potomac River)


I will need to capture Anacostia next time. I don't know enough markers yet, as the area is still unfamiliar, save for the fishmarket.



A funny thing happened as I was dreaming of flooding. A german tourist elbowed his way into my window, and said gruffly,
"There are not many windows here," perhaps implying that I needed to move along.
Without flinching or even turning my head, I responded in a cool voice, "Good Observation," and went back to writing.
He was heavily annoyed, and snapped some german jibberish about my american fa-titude, to which I quickly muttered in response,
"Nein, habe Schadenfreude fur die Mehrheit."
Now, blatantly pissed and embarrassed, they moved along, and I contendedly continued my musings. I feel that It's impolite to demand entitlement to anything of public domain at the expense of another civilian. I never tell people to move along, I simply wait patiently so that they can enjoy themselves in privacy. I expect the same reserved regard from others, and if I don't get it then I make them sorry for ever interrupting another person with their haste.


In God We Trust.


George Washington leaning on fasces.
Original statue is in Richmond, VA.




Detailing inside ground-level of Monument.


Civil War era graffiti inside the Monument.


The funding for the first 152' was collected by the Washington Monument Historical Society, who distributed collection cans across the United States:




The collections were stopped immediately when the commongood found that the Society was largely Anti-Catholic. Thus, the Washington Monument was erected to a height of 152' and stood that way throughout the Civil War. It wasn't until after the Civil War that individual states were asked, by another agency, to fund the remaining costs to erect the Monument.


I took the long way home, reading the Fountainhead on the Metro.

Today was a great sunday.
link2 comments|post comment

(no subject) [Sep. 30th, 2008|04:17 pm]


Here. Take it, people, the many that asked! I don't get it. What is it about this image that makes YOU want to hang it on your wall?

I know why I like this image - because I am a Washingtonian. It's difficult not to be caught in moments of limerence, as depicted in this image, when there are so many horrifyingly clever people, harsh people, politicians, museums, galas, grants, haunting monuments and moments all going on all at the same time.

I like to imagine the mall and the hill are under-water. And I've got him with me, we're so high up, higher than the snipes, and there's chaos below while I gently behold the view of him lost and longing for the city that surrounds us both.

Always from above, looking down, his eyes go soft like that. I'm not sure who he's privately addressing in these moments, but I imagine there are millions in attendance.



Captured at the Guard House in Fort Bolling, while on active duty as Air Force Security Forces.
Why I was there at this time, with my camera, is a long story best kept secret.
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(no subject) [Sep. 28th, 2008|02:31 pm]
<MsNomer>  waking up fishmongers is like herding turtles.
linkpost comment

(no subject) [Sep. 25th, 2008|11:44 am]
Portraits of Power was amazing. I joined the Corcoran with a student membership, and am intending to becoming a paying member of corcoran's 1869 society. DC's first Fridays are a little different I've found, the society is more aristocratic -- think St. Petersburg before the turn of the 20th century. Mmm. :) I am quite content.
link2 comments|post comment

My Shooping List [Sep. 23rd, 2008|12:49 pm]
[Current Location | public xportation]
[music |words repeating in different formations]

Today, as I caught myself writing my shopping list i realized my brain is rotting from too much internet.

This is how it went:

Shopping da Wop
- Shiro Miso
- Ginger (x3)
- Watercress (x2)
- Orbits Gum (like 9000)


and then i knew it was time to stop.

So now I am on my way to check out the Richard Avedon exhibit at Corcoran Museum titled, "Portraits of Power". Then I am visiting Fios at a little boutique in Clarendon, and then hopefully I will have brains enough to re-write my "Shop da Wop" list into a proper, normal "Shooping List".


---

Also, I am feeling more hopeful, so Obama may be getting my vote after all:


(Thanks Kal for your renderings.)
link1 comment|post comment

(no subject) [Sep. 22nd, 2008|03:39 am]


Obama, I will not vote for you -- I have no hope to invest.

linkpost comment

(no subject) [Sep. 22nd, 2008|03:32 am]
live for an ideal or live for your offspring.

I doubt there be enough time to do both with justifiable sophistication.
linkpost comment

(no subject) [Sep. 20th, 2008|09:34 pm]
my glass is empty yet my life is full.
link3 comments|post comment

(no subject) [Sep. 20th, 2008|08:12 pm]
TO:
COFFINWOLF

myspace.com/coffinwolf
Subject: No Subject
Body:


>> i tried to message you but i wouldnt let me. just letting you
>> know i talked to security and you can get in saturday clubs,
>> will talk to exposure soon.



Acknowledged. well ... thank you for your efforts to re-introduce me back in the the scene i've supported for years. it means a lot to me to to be able to get out of my hugbox every once in a while and meet other goths and freaks such as yourself.

oh, and the strip search was AMAZING. Have you ever been strip searched? the cops, they EVEN asked me to put my boots on my head after I had to take off my underwear. it was pretty kinky.

anyway, you certainly overpower me and i was a silly silly girl to think otherwise.

maybe i'll see you around ... i sure hope not. i'm sure the feeling is mutual. ;)


ciao,

ivy
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Japone - Review [Sep. 12th, 2008|09:41 pm]
Japone is best described as a harajuku style dive sushi bar, with a top-secret drum-n-bass lair. Seriously, cypher-punks, undercover-goths, from near and afar - this is your place outside of the internet.

Upstairs, it's a typical crowd of bridal party drunk and raging women crowding the karaoke, and splashing sake bombs to mixed arrigatos and cheers. The place seems to explode with girly giggling and WOOOO!'s every 12 minutes or so on a Saturday evening. At least, that's how it seemed when I went.

Amidst this tamber, I still found a nice window side nook,where the softly humming neons reflected a cyber pink glow against matte black ceiling and walls. While sipping on my chilled ginjo sake, I looked out the tall black silled windows onto P-Street below, and felt privacy amongst the din. I really enjoy that about Japone - As rowdy as it gets, the ambience begets contemplation, and so does the cuisine.

Japone has the best squid nigiri in all of Washington, DC, or perhaps the world. I have never tasted such crunchy, velvety, smooth and pungent squid in my life. It's like pure eroticism to me ... I might have to go back and get my fix after finishing this review.

Kento, the sushi chef, makes a wonderful spicy scallion roll, I highly recommend it (tell him ivy sent ya!) and the green tea icecream is refreshing.
The owners are very friendly, and the mistress bartender, Meg, holds the rowdier men and women, from the underground drum-n-bass parlor, at bay with her beguiling smiles and attentive mixing.

The underground parlor looks as if it used to be really nice at one time, but now there is a sense of decay emanating from the cracks in the walls that make the place seem as if it's been submerged, or lost, for a decade or so.

Again, the feel is William Gibson in Harajuku; television screens embedded in the walls blasting static, large fiber optics hanging above a vaulted undersea chamber. A human-scale statue of a feminine Buddha, on one knee and contemplative; seemingly watery, lit by a kiss-and-flow of spectrum shift of neon wall-sized light boxes.

Any cyberpunk, or electro enthusiast, that finds themselves sake-bombing and nikiri-ing in this space may be shocked out of their wi-fi dependent misanthropy, and into returning; over and over again.

To truly experience the lair, I recommend going during a drum-n-bass event. There are weekly electronic music event at Japone on Sunday and Wednesday nights, after 9pm.

http://www.washingtoncitypaper.com/food/search.php
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row row fight tha powah [Sep. 12th, 2008|09:24 pm]
[Tags|]
[Current Location |studio]
[music |i'm saying words]

i have a really good setup. Take naps, not luxurious beauty rest. I sleep on the floor. Sometimes. I do get good rest when I need it, *shrug*. This is a studio.

I have a studio, in DC.

My home is where I feel like crashing for the night. Work is at the studio.

This is my dream. I'm barely holding on, but I kept it. So, next step, quick.
So ... the next step is ... ? Make local partnerships. Make money. Find Money. Irrigate, (lol).

But keep volunteering, keep talking, keep hangin' out at new places, events, do new things, stay inspired and stay on top of local current event.

Then establish and maintain a local voice through editorial.

Hmm. Business, ooO - d (igital) s (ource) -- dc, arts, Tango. Arts, Food, Open Source, Museums, Memorials, Music; all the things I love in a day or night.

Life is so full, I feel more hopeful and less down. This is the first time in a very good long while. And I'm barely holding on. *wink*


I hope I get this project. *crosses fingers*
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Fountainhead, Dominique quote. [Sep. 10th, 2008|08:59 pm]
[Current Location |studio]
[mood | romantic]
[music |i'm saying words]

"Good looking? ARe you being funny, Dominique?"
Kiki Holcombe saw Dominique being stupidly puzzled for once. And Dominique realized that what she saw in his face, what made it a face of god to her, was not seen by others; that it could leave them indifferent; that what she thought to be the most obvious, inconsequential remark was, instead, a confession of something within her, some quality not shared by others.

* * *

-- Rand's The Fountainhead, pg 269.
* * *


*

* * *
Less intuitive than Anna Karenina, but i still do enjoy this sentiment.
link1 comment|post comment

Sorry Obama, I don't have any high hopes to sell you. [Aug. 21st, 2008|12:46 am]
listening to johnny cash and hiding out a little longer.

is this a mid-youth crisis?
do those exist?
is this just anxiety?


There's a brilliant notion deep within this crisis I've stumbled upon, and the solution points to McCain.

How unlikely. This journal is so right wing, right, amiright? (Or just totally insane, amiright????? ...??)

Well, McCain -- vote for him.

Vote for him because it's the last thing you would probably do.
(Besides clean out the roach nest from underneath the sink.)

Vote for him, because we are reaching 56 out of 64 squares of rice, and who know how the fuck we're gonna find even anymore rice in china to appease the brilliant man and his family who demanded it in the first place ....

Vote for him because the human populus is definitely growing at a rate but close to that age old puzzle yet the exponential opposite is the presence of available energy and resource to ::ahem:: fuel it.


Vote for McCain, because preservation of the civil rights through an agenda of human hope means that our struggle to sustain ourselves will embitter itself a good 36-360 years further into growing population and shrinking resources.


At least McCain would likely speed up the inevitable collapse of human civilization through aggressive appropriation of heavily corporate*neo-conservative have and have not.

Who knows ... Obama may even redo the 14 amendment and free us all from corporate slavery and then you've got a good 4 billion people fighting to the bitter end for one more sip of water / oxygen / oil.

I'd rather vote for McCain and see a good 2/3 of that competition cut out of the question (likely including myself, holding my own jokers as if i've got aces) ASAP.

I have no hope to invest.

The equation is clear:

plant more crops
to feed more people
to plant more crops
to feed more people
(to infinity)

Thus, through agrigated civilization, the human population is growing quickly, and .... energy and resources are shrinking both relatively, and through appropriation (and privatisation)


I believe that this concept would be regarded as more radical than that of global warming, and because of this, our world values and UN/US laws aren't going to change fast enough to help the favor humanity within the quoted equation.


So .... back to my point:
Why prolong for 3-4 generations what McCain could fuck up with in our own generation?

Voting for McCain is clearly the more humanitarian solution.
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street urchin - slang def [Aug. 10th, 2008|04:46 pm]
Street Urchin (def) -

1) Children on the street are those engaged in some kind of economic activity ranging from begging to vending. Most go home at the end of the day and contribute their earnings to their family. They may be attending school and retain a sense of belonging to a family. Because of the economic fragility of the family, these children may eventually opt for a permanent life on the streets.

2) Children of the street who actually live on the street (or outside of a normal family environment). Family ties may exist but are tenuous and are maintained only casually or occasionally.[1]

3) Women who live alone, earn money independently, and commence in daily activities and livelihood without the care or protection of a guardian, usually male.
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(no subject) [Aug. 9th, 2008|01:37 am]
yep. let's do it.




*smiley face*
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Guerrilla Tango Warfare. Street Rebuttal. [Jun. 29th, 2008|05:44 pm]
Tango in a mosh pit to aggro-EBM. Combat boots, knives in backs, big scary sweaty men, coming to and fro in all directions. Push and pull, and tango, and moments when Buka's arms and shoulder impacted to protect my broken shoulder and neck from the faster bullets of aggression. Strays, waves, when a brother falls on the floor, don't step on his head, help him up.

This is the army, this is the Bruderschaft.

---

After, in a car, outside of the Avalon in Hollywood.

Gangsta Whore screams, WHAT THE FUCK IS YOUR PROBLEM?
as her car careened across another lane into the path of another into a parking lot.
Both cars brake to a halt, inches away from impact.
Goth Bitch leans out of the sunroof and spits GO VOMIT IN YOUR ASSHOLE, WHORE.
Gangsta Whore was silenced immediately.
Goth Bitch sensed that a bullet flying from a firearm would have made the rebuttal more exacting.

Howling, Goth Driver and Goth Bitch pulled away into the night, trailing bassbeat and then silence.
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Hey Hey Hey Fuck Your Reality! Oh Oh Oh Hehehe :D [Jun. 18th, 2008|10:26 am]
[Tags|, , , , , , , , ]
[Current Location |Hollywood and Vine - Burgundy]
[mood | hungover]

Hollywood is annoying.

Everyone told me it would be that way, so it's ok -- I'm so happy to hide out in the valley, and to go to Hollywood to keep my fuck yous pure.


Hollywood is annoying. Think Jenny Kelly and Sean Soby and Mike Denko incarnate in every personality here. We went to a bar like that. Jenny Kelly's saving grace is that she's young (and recycles) so it's cool if she's as hippie and emo as fuck (don't get me wrong, I love Jenny Kelley). So all these douchebags were like Jenny Kelly, Sean Soby and Mike Denko but in their Mid 30's getting down like it's 80's round 1 for them, like it's the hottest shit on the block, like it's party central -- like they weren't there last TUESDAY night!

Well, buka and I went, but I think we're an exception ... It was an exploratory experience. We thought it might be cool enough to check it out. So at the crowded as fuck Burgundy Lounge on a Tuesday night, we walk up the the bar and order 2 Stellas. Buka's holding up hard cash, ready to pay, the bartender cracks them open, puts both beers on the bar and leans in on us, "$14", she winks.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" That's buka. I lean in and say back to her, So, uhm, do you have any beers that are priced like ... not extortionately ? She mentions the $4 Budlight and $4 Miller High Life. "Anything in between?" She doesn't get it.

This beer is not laced with coke, but there's still no way in hell that I can accept paying the cost of a 6 pack for a single bottle, especially not when the peak hit tonight couldn't be better that some tired Rick Astley. I've got a big screen, sound system and a refrigerator to take care of that, and not so many nauseating jerk-offs to breathe their AIDS into the air.

I'm sorry, I just really can't stand club people. Fuck em. Especially the ones in their late-20's to mid 30's dressed like they're still the shit they weren't back in college, at a Hollywood bar on a Tuesday Night.

Buka spits, "We'll take one Stella" and pushes his cash holding hand towards her.

She is obviously disgusted that she uncorked the second beer for nothing. Looks at the cash as she takes it from his hand, he's already looking away towards me, but I'm looking at the money, and omg, it was sweet.

She removes the cash from his hand is revealed that he is flipping her off.

I've got to use that one next time I feel conned by a fukktarded scene way too talked up on myspace. I usually don't take things out on the bartenders, but it was her myspace page that talked up her event like it was the hot shit, so she can swallow a little bit of constructive criticism from a newcomer.

The music was blah, then Michael Jackson, which I danced to -- took up the whole back section dancing my ass off. No one there was dancing either. Just kinda pushed up too close to each other, shaking hips a little bit. Ugh. Dead, Dead, Dead. Bet the cocaine dealer didn't show up, people disgust me.

After 2 more lame new wave hits, we decide to leave, buka is fuming annoyed at the scene. He's kinda leaning against the back wall with his arms crossed, staring blankly. I try really hard to cheer him up by making our own space so he doesnt feel invaded by all these other people ... I do that for myself. We are a really good balance because I have a lot of positivity and I surround myself with it for protection against such elements, and he is the total blackhole of an opposite. His vibe kills my vibe sometimes, cuz I'm pretty sensitive to the negativity, but it's a crucial reality check for me. I wanted to go anyway.

So we both glance at each other, glance at the door, glance back and nod. God, I love that about buka. Unspoken communication. I lean in and say, let's at least wait for the next song so we can have some good exit music. He's already thinking the same thing and nods again.

The Cure comes on, a good upbeat track. Awesome! Buka says, 2nd chorus and we're out of here, takes his last swig and hands the bottle to me. I'm dancing, and take a last swig, arms in the air, wait for a climax, and let the bottle go slipping out of my up-stretching arm.

SMASH. Every eye turns back. Buka grabs my hand, I give my innocent eyes to the bar crowd and say Oops! covering my mouth with the other hand, and start pushing through the crowd for the door a little too quickly to relish the drama we started, but Buka immediately anchored me and slowed me down. I couldn't stop smiling, way too fucking proud. Confidence girl, don't be scared. He's dragging his arm along the bar, and took down another bottle on the way out. Spat a little jet of filth onto the bouncer's shoe on our way out the door.

As we walk down Hollywood Ave back towards Vine, some people spilling out of Burgundy are still looking at us, so I turn back towards them and raise both my middle fingers and snap, "Fuck your scene, asshats."

Some guys were leering some garbled stuff I couldn't recognize, but that's the only credit i'm giving them.

I guess I can't blame 'em, people really don't know how to deal with me. I am hot as shit, really sweet and disarming, and I know it for and from better or worse. I've had my share of people mess with me in ways that they should not because of it, so I am not afraid of the bragging rights that I now feel that I am entitled to. Being a tall, lean, blue-eyed, sexy as fuck, inspired and honest, smart and writhing angry female is the best weapon i have. And when that isn't enough to keep me safe and sane, I keep a switchblade in my boot for backup. I have commentary on Buka's social toolset for later. I won't even get into rasKal, he's just amazing, meow, mi amor. I digress...

Back to that scene's credibility . . .

I mean, we blatantly fucked with the bartender and the crowd at least 3 times and they didn't even do anything. People in California smoke too much fucking weed. I like being angry, on edge, I really can't help it, and I think it's healthy, because it's our passivity as citizens in general that made this country the shithole of a fake democracy that it is. the power is not in the hands of the populus, it's in the hands of corporate entities. We are fukking proles with tons of liberties but no real power except the arts.

Which are dominated by Ad agencies for corporations. I appreciate the arts, and the cushy lifestyle granted by corporate run America, hell I have my American dreams. But I'm not going to thank anyone for it, I try to remain as much a hunter gatherer as I fukking can.

Which is exactly why I got arrested back in November. For hunting and gathering. In whole foods. With 23 other people, and yes, that food was given to the homeless through a group that feeds organize food to those who don't fit into Whole Foods zoning requirements.

I'm not going to be a fucking ant in the way that I am asked to be by the combo breaker of US Law and corporate affluence/influence. PSYCHOPATHS!!! Not to mention some religious moral code that the small man uses to empower himself through bigger people. I am Athiest and Anti-Capitalist for very good reasons.

I don't think I'll be submitting to slavery anytime soon unless I need some money. Then I will do it supremely.

I will not submit to another corporate job until I am prepared to be psychopathic about it myself. That means no empathy for the frontline of humans that I am working with for a corporation, it's still a corporation and a corporation is a psychopath. Those co-workers are actually not humans with human feelings, but commodifiable resources that I need to use or abuse in order to gain my own agenda. Any I can't have any sort of accountability for anyone to hold against me, unless I use that as protection for my own better interests.


Think that's extreme? TO say that we;re slaves in America? Ok, give this perspective a whirl. In the years surrounding the formation of the 14th Amendment, which was enacted to protect the civil freedoms of newly emancipated slaves, ~101 laws were passed under this amendment. 18 of the cases were brought by black people for the purpose of securing their rights as citizens, and the remaining 83 were brought by corporate lawyers, securing the civil rights of corporations by entitling a corporation to the status of "American Citizen". Every other citizen in this country is a human with a body that can incarcerated for their wrongdoings.

How can you incarcerate a limited liability corporation, when the corporation itself is a citizen and responsible for a wrongdoing, and not the small board of humans that dictate what the corporation does.

The corporation is always held at fault and fined, and the individuals within it get away and can't be fined, or incarcerated. Remember En

Human citizens in this country therefore have less power then corporate entities in this country, and we are more accountable... Seriously, I know this is not well written at all because I am hungover as shit, but can anyone see the possible references to slavery that I am making?

Eh balls.

I have another funny story but will save for later. One day this stuff is going to rush out of me again without my nauseating mind for details.

Those details get even more acute when i'm not hungover, oops.
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(no subject) [Jun. 18th, 2008|10:25 am]
I'm 24, well-versed, well-travelled, with a background of contracting with Travel Channel in Washington, DC, a BFA of Photography / Film, and cultural anthropology, I possess excellent narrative capacity through many forms of media, including writing and voice.

I've kept notes and memories on many places I've travelled, and my peers and audience find my memories to be both insightful and captivating.

One of the coolest experiences I had was in going to a Pan-American Boy Scout Jamboree in Foz de Igacu, Brasil. I was in a coed troop, but still the only US American female at this camping event bringing together over 5,000 scouts from all over Pan America.

My travel list includes the following places, all explored extensively:

Iceland

Dorset, England (lived here for 5 months, backpacked)
London, England (1 year exposure)
South of France (backpacking from Nice to St. Tropez)
Italy - Florence to Venice (backpacking / train)
Monaco

Brasil (camping / Boy Scout Jamboree)
Uruguay
Paraguay
Argentina (Buenos Aires, Backpacking - photojournalism)
Mexico (Yucatan and the Texas/Mexico border)
Canada

26 of 48 continuous United States.





I've travelled globally since I was a little kid, and have ventured to many countries from Pan America to Monaco, most exciting were perhaps my road trips through Iceland, backpacking in Western Europe, and months of trekking through Southwest England. By the time I was 18, I hopped on a plane to Argentina accompanied by SLR, a stock of film and journal to check out the tango scene, and what kids my own age were doing during some economically tough times. It was a lot of fun, and I still enjoy lasting friendships, pen pals, and persistent amor for the dance of tango since this trip.

My travel list includes extensive exploration 26 of the 48 continuous United States.

Extreme

Since then, I've slowed a little on my traveling in favor of focusing on a media career, for purpose of communicating global ideas and culture.

The ability to do so on television is quite appealing.

I

I enjoy many aspects of experiencing new places, and can relay my experience of my surroundings through a sound understanding of pop-culture, current event, art-history and architecture, movement, political history and geological / geographical perspective.

I am from Washington DC, but was raised in Texas, New Mexico, Florida and Richmond, and the UK


I have citizenship in the European Union and in the United States.
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(no subject) [Jun. 13th, 2008|01:02 am]
Buka's smoking cuz he feels like he needs something to do, and now strumming on a steel string acoustic. I feel like nothing else can really touch me now, so much has happened, I forget that there are sensitivities, and things that people don't want to think about. I keep bringing him down.

There's nothing I can't think about. The only times I feel afraid is when I have to blindly hold a hand that is not my own, or just hold my own hand anyway and walk forward int othe unknown.

What I do know can't frighten me, deter me or stop me from loving myself and the life around me. It's time to see some native land again, to go deep in the desert and find the artist that made the feather of silver and turquoise. Something random, but self-seeking. I will explore that more privately.

Buka and I snuck into the Hollywood Bowl today, he's avoiding his phone right now, pulling a long drag from a cigerette. I got to witness that. I avoid my phone too, I just don't want to hear that bullshit, have anything drag me away frm a moment.

I know this postis disjointed, but for me, there really is no distance between these thoughts, they are simultaneous external and internal occurances. To an outsider peerhaps this cacaphony may constitute something or an existential conflict, but perhaps it's wise to consider here exactly whose existence that through these words you are spying on.

Of course it's chaos.

We biked to Hollywood. Shapeshifters, Bollywood, a blue feather almost, a tattoo artist only present by memorial of works created. Not close enough though, i only saw his work, and it was amazing, but he got into a car accident while he was on his motorcycle, hasn't been to work in months. Won't be in for months. Right place, but not the right time. Ive never seen such finely crafted lines besides my own. He's the one.

Merchants at the camera store running me in circles with my pleasant conversation but no answers that I needed to know to leave, until buka walked in and glared a general glare. The answer was coughed up quickly, and we would have been on our way, but we had to stop and giggle and all the fukkin potato heads for headshots posted on the window.

Someone told me today, in a knife shop, we'd all kill politicians if we could get away with it, I laughed and agreed, but stopped laughing the second i realized that I couldn't disagree more.

No one, hardly a person would kill, because we are all too afraid.

We are all too afraid.

This is a desperate silly hopeless life and I have so much hope, but invested in the wrong places. Me chasing Kal, Rael chasing buka, buka chasing me, kal running away over and over again. What a fine fukked up tryst of a tryst of a twist of a tryst. Tell me I'm wrong I don't give a fuk, you can't erase these memories, let alone try to shake them into alighment with your own.

You're Alien. Allein. Alline. Alone.


Buka just lost his pick or he's lost his fukking mind -- whatever possesses a musician of his tamber to shake a guitar up and down so the whole room rattles. Whatever he lost he found it. I can't talk anymore today about selling a business man the rope to hang himself with, about scars, about health insurance companies, HMOs, CEOs, about bullets, about fatalities endured by the human spirit, and my own umber soul.

I don't have to keep going, have that question answered. I can bury it, like marking a page in a book and remembering the first word that the paragraph starts with -- I can come back to it tomorrow without losing a single moment or piece of momentum.

There is nothing else in this life that can be taken away from me besides life itself.


By god, it's so nice to be angry instead of being scared, finally.

Now i'll get something done. I've never been destruktive to anyone but myself so I'm not going to spurt rounds of confusion culminating in lost blood and fire and death. This is why I am a photographer and writer. To get a fukking point across.

I'm really thankful for the friends I have at bay. I can count on 3 of them, and they all bring me resources that are most valuable to me in this time of change:


To be a soldier, to be a scientist, to be a starving artist.
To be a force, a truth, my own voice.

To resist BULLSHIT fed to me by every other person and entity in my life.

What could be more valuable?

Alcohol helps. So does the meth. The legal and accountable kind of course.

Buka's writing lyrics. Hopefully he doesn't find that fatalist writing I wrote in the back of his journal, cuz he'll probably destroy something. I like that it's my turn to bring him down, ;ike he's done for me in my lowest time. Not that Buka is there, just that I am here to learn again, and I learn best when I can teach. He always listens to me, he is always forgiving and patient. I have the best friends in this world I could hope for.

It took me 8 minutes to write this bullshit, 3 days to hide it again.
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(no subject) [Jun. 12th, 2008|10:25 pm]
this is a rough draft.

i slur when i speak too.
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Polaroid Transfers [Jun. 6th, 2008|12:46 pm]
http://www.apug.org/forums/forum216/34423-polaroid-emulsion-lifts-how.html

Instructions for Polaroid Transfers.

Note to self. Bring that contact paper or fail.
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Polaroid Land Camera | 220 Automatic :: Film Again... [Jun. 6th, 2008|11:35 am]
Polaroid 669 Polacolor ER 3.25 x 4.25" Instant Color Print Pack Film (ISO-80)
--------------------------------------------------------------------

Think I will be using this type primarily. One box first, in case the camera does not work :(

Polaroid 669 is a color print film with extended dynamic range, 669 Film is balanced for average daylight (5500K) at 1/125 of a second (as well as for electronic flash units). The reciprocity characteristics of this film cause a color shift towards blue-cyan when the exposure time is increased and a color shift towards red-yellow when the exposure is decreased.

It seems readily available - at $1 per exposure.

And I'll get some dusty faded, color shifted views of Sherman Oaks. At least that's how I've always imagined the place to be.

======================================================
FujifilmFP-100C Professional Instant Color Film ISO 100
======================================================
This nne Is also appealing for different applications - long exposure causes enhanced reciprocity, this is a sharper image film, etc.

Enhanced reciprocity characteristics under low illumination and with long exposure times; As a daylight film, optimized for shooting under sunlight or electronic flash; Wider range of applications in low-temperature environments, including ID photo shooting during the winter and outdoor commercial photography under severe conditions


BH for ~$1=1
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Polaroid 220 Automatic [Jun. 6th, 2008|03:29 am]
Land Camera Info:



Automatic 220 | Land Camera | "Packfilm Camera"

http://www.rwhirled.com/landlist/landdcam-pack.htm#220

Similar to Model 100, except:

Lens: 114mm f/8.8 2-element plastic
Has plastic body and plastic shutter/lens housing; no tripod socket.
View/rangefinder lacks the folding hinge.
NOTE: You may notice that this model (along with its Special Markets 'twin', the 225) is a bit odd in that it's the only folding pack camera which mates the more versitile shutter assembly (the one equipped with a "Scene Selector") with the less desireable (two-element) lens. All other cameras with the "Scene Selector"-style shutter have the 3-element glass lens instead.
........ .......... . . . . . . . . . .................... . . . ...
*If Same Spec listed twice, top list takes priority
.......... .......... ...... . . . . . . . . . .......... .
Shutter: Electronic; 10 seconds - 1/1200
Separate window view/rangefinder assembly (has a hinged base-- flips up for use and is held in place with a magnetic catch-- folds down for storage and fits inside the camera's plastic cover)
Viewfinder has projected framelines and automatic parallax compensation.
Aperture-priority automatic exposure only
Has settings for film speeds of 75, 150, 300, and 3000 ASA.
Has "scene selector" switch which gives choice of two different aperture settings for each film speed setting; lens can be used at full aperture with 3000 ASA film.
Has exposure compensation dial with range of -1/+2 stops ("Lighten/Darken" control).


Produced: 1967-1969 / Original Retail: $74.95
Estimated Production: 740,000 - (900,000)

-----------
Battery Spec :
-----------
531 Battery
Radio Shack --> 531 ---> PX-19, catalog #960-0378 (price: $8.99 as of 2001)
Polaroid Customer Service ---> 800-number printed on the film packaging, = $7 apiece.
www.photobattery.com

--------
Film Spec:
--------
100/660-Series Land Pack Films (3 1/4" x 4 1/4"):
http://www.ecamerafilms.com/category_s/43.htm


New / Available on Market:
-----------------------
google: 623965 polaroid 660 high speed medium contrast color film - 30$ for 20 exposures.

BHPhoto : FP-100C Professional Instant Color Film ISO 100 (3.25 x 4.25", Glossy) Single Pack x10sheets - $9.50
BHPhoto : FP-3000B Professional Instant Black & White Film ISO 3000 (3.25 x 4.25", Glossy) x 10 sheets - $7.99
BHPhoto : FP-100B Professional Instant B&W Film ISO 100 (3.25 x 4.25", Glossy) Single Pack x 10 shots - $8.99

Original
-------
100/660-Series Land Pack Films (3 1/4" x 4 1/4")

Unless otherwise noted, all 100/660-Series Land Pack Films have the following characteristics in common:

Each pack produces 8 prints.
Actual image area: 2 7/8" x 3 3/4" (7.2 x 9.5 cm)
100/660-series films (and others included in this category) are used by Polaroid cameras on the Packfilm Cameras page marked with the icon, as well as other photographic equipment having a Polaroid #405 film back or other compatible back.

Type 105:

Produced: 1974-1977 / Original Price: $?.??
Film speed: ASA 75
Panchromatic, B&W
Produces both a positive print and a reusable negative.
60-second development. Negative requires an extra 'clearing' step after development. Sodium sulfite (not included with film) required for negative clearing bath.
NOTE: Renamed to Type 665 in 1977 as part of Polaroid's then-new Professional Pack Film line.

Type 107:

Produced: 1963-2000 (?) / Original Price: $1.92
Film speed: ASA 3000
Panchromatic, B&W
15-second development.
NOTES: This, along with Type 108, was one of the original two film types introduced with the Model 100 (Automatic 100) pack camera. I believe it was finally discontinued in 1999 or 2000, but don't worry-- you can still get its modern coaterless equivalent, Type 667.

Type 107C:

Produced: 1978-199? / Original Price: $?.??
Film speed: ASA 3000
Panchromatic, B&W
Coaterless, 30-second development.
NOTES: Was offered simultaneously with Type 667, but 107C was geared towards mass-market retailers, while 667 was primarily sold by full-service camera stores. 107C was dropped in the mid 1990's, presumably because not very many mass-merchandisers were stocking Polaroid pack films any more. At or about the same time, Type 667 went from 8 prints per pack to 10 prints per pack.

Type 108:

Produced: 1963-2002 (?) / Original Price: $4.38
Film speed: ASA 75
Color
60-second development
NOTES: While nominally ASA 75, most (if not all) Type 108 film packs made before the early 1970's bore a sticker directing the user to set the Lighten/Darken control on the camera one small mark towards Lighten. Doing this would essentially set the exposure system for about ASA 60.
Like Type 48 (see notes), this film was supplied with self-adhesive mounting cards for a while. I'm not sure when the related 'print curl' problem was solved, but was probably early 1970's or so.
In 1975, was replaced by new "Polacolor 2" film under the same type number. This was an improved film based on SX-70 technology, and used a new negative stock made by Polaroid themselves. [Before this point, Eastman Kodak was contracted by Polaroid to produce the 'negative' material for Polaroid color films. This changeover was a contributing factor to the discontinuance of Type 48 rollfilm at about the same time. (See the notes for Type 48 for more details)] Eventually the "Polacolor 2" designation was dropped, but remained the same film.
The transition to "Polacolor 2" may or may not be related to the end of the one-mark-towards-Lighten stickers and the solution to the 'print curl' problem; I really don't know.
As with Type 107C, this film essentially became the mass-market version of an otherwise equivalent 'professional' film (Type 668 in this case). [Type 668 was supplanted by-- and eventually replaced by-- an improved film called Type 669.]
Professional/Industrial Films:

Type 084:

Produced: 1977- 2002 (?) / Original Price: $?.??
Film speed: ASA 3000
Panchromatic, B&W
15-second development.
NOTES: The literature for this film suggests it is intended for CRT recording-- but it has normal contrast. [I've used this film, and it seems identical to Type 107. --MK]
A new Type 84 (no leading zero) film was introduced in 2003, but this is an unrelated 80-series 'square'-format film.

Type 611:

Produced: 19??-???? / Original Price: $?.??
Film speed: ASA 3000
Low Contrast Panchromatic, B&W
15-second development.
NOTES: Designed for CRT recording applictions requring low contrast.

Type 612:

Produced: 19??-199? / Original Price: $?.??
Film speed: ASA 20,000
High Contrast Panchromatic, B&W
30-second development
NOTES: Yes, that's a film speed of twenty thousand, the fastest film Polaroid has ever offered. Unfortunately, it appears to have been discontinued as of around 1999/2000 or so. It is a very high contrast film, though, and difficult to use for general purpose photography. Designed for CRT/oscilloscope recording.

Type 664 (Polapan Pro 100):

Produced: ????- Present / Original Price: $?.??
Film speed: ASA 100
Panchromatic, B&W

Type 665:

Produced: 1977- 2006 / Original Price: $?.??
Film speed: ASA 75 (80)
Panchromatic, B&W
Produces both a positive print and a reusable negative.
60-second development. Negative requires an extra 'clearing' step after development. Sodium sulfite (not included with film) required for negative clearing bath.
NOTES: Formerly called Type 105.
Package increased to 10 prints/negatives per pack in 2003.
Polaroid also used to sell (but discontinued long ago) a companion "clearing bucket" accessory for this film to aid in the negative "clearing" process. This rather well-designed product contains a removable plastic rack which can hold several negatives safely in the clearing solution without allowing them to come in contact with each other. [There is currently a third-party 'clone' of this product available, but I forget the manufacturer.] In any case, the special 'bucket' is not necessary for clearing the negatives-- you can use plastic darkroom trays, tanks, or whatever. You can even use (if you're really careful!) Ziploc-style plastic bags if you want.
OPINION: This is really interesting/fun stuff to work with-- it's very high in quality, and is probably about the cheapest/easiest way to produce the occasional big negative. Sodium sulfite isn't always convenient to find, however. Too bad it has since been discontinued...
Two different Type 665 film boxes. [JPEG, 27k]


Type 667:

Produced: 1977- Present / Original Price: $?.??
Film speed: ASA 3000
Panchromatic, B&W
Coaterless, 30-second development.
NOTES: Similar to Type 107C, which was offered simultaneously for several years.
Package increased to 10 exposures per pack in the mid-1990's.

Type 668:

Produced: 1977-199? / Original Price: $?.??
Film speed: ASA 75
Color
60-second development
NOTES: Professional markets version of Type 108. Really not sure when this was discontinued.

Type 669 (Polacolor ER):

Produced: 198?- Present / Original Price: $?.??
Film speed: ASA 75 (80)
Color
60-second development
NOTES: Improved version of Type 108/668. This is currently the "standard" color Polaroid pack film.
Package increased to 10 exposures per pack in the mid-1990's.

Type 672 (Polapan Pro 400):

Produced: ????- Present / Original Price: $?.??
Film speed: ASA 400
Panchromatic, B&W
Produces 10 prints per pack

Type 679 (Polacolor Pro 100):

Produced: 199?- 2003 / Original Price: $?.??
Film speed: ASA 100
Color
60-second development
Produces 10 prints per pack
NOTES: This is an improved version of Type 669, and bumped up slightly in speed in order to match popular conventional films.
This film, along with Type 689, has been replaced with Type 690 as of 2003.
Usage note: You can use this film in classic automatic pack cameras too-- just set the speed selector to 75/Color, and adjust the Lighten/Darken control about one small notch towards Darken.

Type 689 (Pro Vivid):

Produced: 199?- 2003 / Original Price: $20.90 ?
Film speed: ASA 100
Color
60-second development
Produces 10 prints per pack
NOTES: This is an even further improved version of Type 669 and Type 679, and was Polaroid's top-end professional color pack film until the recent (2003) introduction of Type 690 (which replaces this film).
Usage note: Just as with Type 679, you can use this film in classic automatic pack cameras too-- just set the speed selector to 75/Color, and adjust the Lighten/Darken control about one small notch towards Darken.

Type 690:

Produced: 2003- Present / Original Price: $?.??
Film speed: ASA 125
Color
90-second development, no adjustment needed for ambient temperatures of at least 70°F / 21°C.
Produces 10 prints per pack
This film is not recommended for image transfers or emulsion lift transfers.
NOTES: This is an all-new Professional color film, which not only has further improvements in color rendition and contrast, but also has a re-engineered chemistry that makes development (almost) self-timing. While all Polaroid integral films are (by necessity) self-timing, this is the first Polaroid peel-apart film to have this feature.
Usage note: Just as with Type 679 and 689, you can use this film in classic automatic pack cameras too-- just set the speed selector to 75/Color, and adjust the Lighten/Darken control between one and two small notches towards Darken. Alternatively, if your camera has a Scene Selector and you want a little more depth-of-field, you could instead set the dial for ASA 150, and set the L/D control about one small mark towards Lighten.

Type 691:

Produced: 198?- 199? / Original Price: $?.??
Film speed: ASA 80
Color
60-second development
Produces 8 color transparencies (slides) per pack
NOTES: Designed for making transparencies to be used on an overhead projector. I believe Polaroid even offered special cardboard frames to aid in handling the slides.

Polacolor 64 Tungsten:

Produced: 198?- Present / Original Price: $?.??
Film speed: ASA 64 (tungsten)
Color
60-second development
NOTES: Similar to Type 669, but color balanced for tungsten lighting.

Polacolor ID:

Produced: 199?- Present / Original Price: $?.??
Film speed: ASA 80
Color
60-second development
NOTES: Similar to Type 669, but has a special security "tracer" overlay imprinted over the print surface and viewable only under UV light (i.e. a blacklight).
Polacolor ID film box [JPEG, 23k]
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