Posts Tagged ‘Lower’

Cool Lower Back Tattoos images

Wednesday, August 20th, 2014

Check out these Decrease back Tattoos images:

Image from page 361 of “The bird, its form and function” (1906)
Lower back Tattoos

Image by Internet Archive Book Photos
Identifier: birditsformfunct07beeb
Title: The bird, its kind and function
Year: 1906 (1900s)
Authors: Beebe, William, 1877-1962
Subjects: Birds Birds
Publisher: New York : Henry Holt

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About This Book: Catalog Entry
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Text Appearing Before Image:
Fig. 276.—Trumpeter Swan asleep. sight, the mice and birds have of its deadly presence.Handful of birds have a flight as noiseless as that of owls, andin some species the motion of the wings makes, as wenoticed in the pheasant, a extremely audible sound. When awidgeon rises from the water, the whistling of its quills,so dear to the ears of the sportsman, is really shrill. Adove claps its wings with each other above its back although achieve-ing impetus for flight. The characteristic sound fromwhich a hummingbird takes its name is effectively identified. 34-6 The Bird When wild geese and swans nest in captivity, theirwings are put to most exceptional use as weapons of de-fence, and of course this use should come into play fre-quently when nesting in their native haunts. I haveseen a man knocked breathless by a Canada gander whothought his nest in danger. When preparing for attack,the bird approaches hissing, with head stretched low alongthe ground, and all of a sudden, with out warning, launches

Text Appearing After Image:
Fig 277.—Trumpeter Swan preparing to attack an intruder with its wings. itself straight at ones breast and, clinging with bill andclaws, beats a tattoo with the tough bend of its wings.A single is not probably to forget such a drubbing for a longtime. The wings of certain birds are armed with weaponsof offence, such as the Spur-winged Goose, Jacana, Plover,and Screamer. The Spur-winged Goose is a actually danger-ous antagonist and can strike extremely powerful blows,bringing the sharp spur to bear with telling impact. These Wings 347 spurs are not claws, but correspond in structure to theordinary spurs on the legs of a rooster. The excellent heavy-headed and heavy-bodied hornbillsfly with fantastic effort, and it is mentioned upon good authoritythat when passing low overhead they make a noise likea steam-engine. Although not strictly inside the prov-

Note About Pictures
Please note that these images are extracted from scanned web page photos that may possibly have been digitally enhanced for readability – coloration and look of these illustrations could not completely resemble the original function.

Image from page 150 of “Egypt and its monuments” (1908)
Lower back Tattoos

Image by Net Archive Book Photos
Identifier: egyptitsmonument00hich
Title: Egypt and its monuments
Year: 1908 (1900s)
Authors: Hichens, Robert Smythe, 1864-1950
Subjects:
Publisher: New York, Century Co.

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About This Book: Catalog Entry
View All Images: All Pictures From Book

Click right here to view book on the web to see this illustration in context in a browseable on-line version of this book.

Text Appearing Prior to Image:
mesto a sound of flutes, a merry noise of thin,vibrant music, backed by a clashing of barbariccymbals, along the corridors of the previous this queen whois shown upon Egyptian walls dressed as a man, whois mentioned to have worn a beard, and who sent to the landof Punt the popular expedition which covered her withglory and brought gold to the god Amun. To me mostfeminine she seemed when I saw her temple at Deir-el-Bahari, with its brightness and its suavity its prettyshallowness and sunshine its white, and blue, and yel-low, and red, and green and orange all extremely trim andfanciful, all extremely smart and delicate complete of finesseand laughter, and breathing out to me of the twentiethcentury the coquetry of a lady in 1500 B.C. Afterthe terrific masculinity of Medinet-Abu, following the greatfreedom of the Ramesseum, and the grandeur of itscolossus, the manhood of all the ages concentrated ingranite, the temple at Deir-el-Bahari came upon me likea delicate woman, perfumed and arranged, clothed in a 148

Text Appearing Following Image:
DEIR-EL-BAHARI creation of white and blue and orange, standing—everso knowingly — against a background of orange andpink, of red and of brown-red, a smiling coquette of themountain, a gay and sweet enchantress who knew herpretty powers and meant to exercise them. Hatshepsu with a beard ! Never will I believe it.Or if she ever seemed to put on one, I will swear it wasonly the tattooed ornament with-which all the lovelywomen of the Fayum decorate their chins to-day,throwing into relief the smiling, soft lips, the delicatenoses, the liquid eyes, and leading one particular from it step bystep to the beauties it precedes. Mr. Wallis Budge says in his book on the antiquitiesof Egypt: It would be unjust to the memory of agreat man and a loyal servant of Hatshepsu, if weomitted to mention the name of Senmut, the architectand overseer of performs at Deir-el-Bahari. By allmeans let Senmut be described, and then let him beutterly forgotten. A radiant queen reigns right here — aqueen of fantasy and splendor, and

Note About Photos
Please note that these pictures are extracted from scanned page images that could have been digitally enhanced for readability – coloration and appearance of these illustrations could not completely resemble the original work.

Cool Lower Back Tattoos pictures

Friday, July 12th, 2013

A handful of good Lower back Tattoos images I discovered:

Cool Lower Back Tattoos pictures

Wednesday, May 22nd, 2013

Some cool Lower back Tattoos images:

Red Anodization
Lower back Tattoos

Image by MilesBintz
Rider: Joe

About:
An additional shot from the BMX and MTB pump track on Sat…

Of the 190 exposures I shot, I feel this would be my number 1 pick of them all.

There’s not considerably post-processing carried out to this shot. A tiny recovery and exposure adjustment, some vignetting and that is about it. I like how the light grabbed the red wheels. His face is lit, tattoos, rich blue sky, luscious green leaves… very good contrast amongst the rider and background, and every thing is pretty sharp. As an AWaC, I do not consider I could ask for a lot more!

And yes, it’s all luck. Empirically, my possibilities for obtaining a shot like this? .5% And I’m content with that.

Strobist:
If the front of the bike is 12 o’clock, then there is a flash at 10, level with the rider, and at 4, shooting up. The 10 o’clock flash was triggered by means of Computer-sync, the four o’clock flash was opti-slaved.

Applying a small strobist-evaluation: I believe that butt-flash was fairly essential right here. With out it, the back would have been in fairly dark shadow, so that low flash was essential to achieving the separation and delivering that final bit of pop. W00T!

You:
Really feel free to offer feedback or guidance on how you may make a shot like this better. I welcome constructive criticism as a implies of enhancing my photography. If you like it &quotas is&quot, that is nice to know as well!

Cool Lower Back Tattoos photos

Friday, May 17th, 2013

Verify out these Lower back Tattoos images:

1930s: HMAS ALBATROSS, AUSTRALIA [II] and CANBERRA [I] on maneouvres – RAN.
Lower back Tattoos

Image by Kookaburra2011
6095. The County Class on the left, which we believe in HMAS CANBERRA [I], has raised steam although that in the centre, which would as a result be AUSTRALIA [II] remains at anchor. with stern gangway down to port, and a seaboat tied up off the starboard side. On the move, there is also a seaboat astern of CANBERRA and a bi-plane overhead. Oddly adequate, this 1930s Depression-era photograph shows a squadron of larger and more powerful combat ships than the RAN could present nowadays [though that will alter with the commissioning of the CANBERRRA Class LHDs more than the next few years. Also, at this point in the 1930s, these had been the only ships in service, and personnel numbered around three,900].

The image is undated, but is prior to April 26, 1933, when ALBATROSS paid off into reserve in Sydney, and of course prior to her getting her forward catapult. As we noted 5 pictures back, at 6098, these ships had been with each other, along with the destroyer HMAS TATTOO, in Nov. 1932, for workouts in Bass Strait prior to the Nov eight call at Melbourne when &quotThe Princes Pier Incident’ took location.

This was the episode of reduced deck unrest in the RAN over rumoured Depression-era spend cuts and poor conditions, which dockside agitators in Melbourne had unsuccessfully tried to exploit, even attempting to incite the crews to mutiny. We also learened there [Pic 6090], from the Tom Freame/Kevin Baker book ‘Mutiny: Naval Insurrections in Australia and New Zealand,’ that instances of sabotage on RAN ships had turn into not infrequent, with the engines of ALBATROSS, for instance, having twice been deliberately damaged in the preceding year or so.

Other Navies knowledgeable related difficulties throughout the Depression, when anti-Establishment sentiments grew, and disillusionment in society was rife.

Photo: RAN, Navy Heritage Collection, image ID. NO. 03005.

16 more issues about me that you wish you never had to hear.
Lower back Tattoos

Image by Dave77459
So, the great and funny catklein tagged me so i have to locate 16 factors to inform yall that you may not currently know about me but considering that I did this silly list of items about me twice currently now, I am not certain what I have not spilled to you guys…let me see….

1. I love to laugh. A lot. Even when I am alone. I took this pic when I was by myself.

2. I have this worry of bathrooms that are just a single room with a door and you open it and the toilet is appropriate there. Even if the door locks ok, i have this worry of someone opening the door and me sitting there on the pot. We have a single like this at perform and I Never ever use it.

three. I have a bit of OCD. I like items to be all excellent. It really is crazy.

4. I am addicted to lip gloss.

5. I adore to listen to music extremely loud.

six. I am super sarcastic.

7. I have a wee tattoo on my bum.

8. I enjoy to fuck with people. Final week at operate I rang a co-workers line and he came Running like a mad man by means of the office to get the get in touch with. He nearly fell. I waited till *proper ahead of* he got to answer it and hung up.

9. I enjoy the neighborhood right here. I lay in bed at night and sometimes believe about the folks here and issues they have posted.

10. I weigh myself every single day. I like to remain within five lbs and am happiest when I am at the lowest end of that range.

11. I never workout. I require to get back into it. I have an elliptical that i dust. I BEGGED my husband to acquire it for me. Promised him I would use it ALL THE TIME. I never do. At times when I walk by it, I can hear it whispering hey you losseerrrr

12. I believe as well significantly. I be concerned too. I also imagine terrible issues in my head.

13. Possessing mentioned that, I am a happy particular person. I am rarely depressed or angry. It requires A LOT to offend me.

14. I am sturdy, however a total wussy. I will roar loud at some issues and then be afraid to say other factors.

15. I am very loyal. If you are my peep, I will do something for you.

I6. I am me. I am a dork and you guys are most likely so sick of this stuff.

Nice Lower Back Tattoos photographs

Monday, May 13th, 2013

Some cool Lower back Tattoos pictures:

Note to Self: Wedding To Do List.
Lower back Tattoos

Image by [AJ]
1. When preparing an outdoor wedding, guarantee that you hold it in such a location that lobster fishermen can circle about the ceremony in their noisy boats, drowning out the ceremony, and yelling obscenities. Bonus points for discovering a groomsman with a tattoo of a snake high enough on his neck to be observed.
two. Locate a girl with a stunning voice to sing on your day, guarantee her music to back her up, and neglect to find stated music, not supply any musical accompaniment at all except the stated engines of fishing boats, and hand her a shitty microphone method and a song that doesn’t suit her to finish it all off.
3. Bridesmaids dresses. The hooker appear is in. five&quot heels and brief reduce dresses work excellent on a beach. But when organizing do not neglect to get a neckline scooped out low enough that not only are the breasts on show, but the paw print tattoos your bridesmaid has on either breast are clearly visible to all. (Yes view it big, those are paw prints.)
4. Ensure that your DJ brings his personal smoke machine. Ensure it is of suitable energy to fill all of the guests lungs and really make it impossible to hold a discussion, let alone dance. Guarantee that all guests have to leave early to get out of said smoke.
5. And absolutely nothing says class like the basketball lines on the floor of your elementary school’s health club to make a wedding reception full.

Like I said, it was worth getting up for the photo of Halifax I got (see it) but I was much less than enthused about the rest.

Cool Lower Back Tattoos images

Friday, April 26th, 2013

A few nice Lower back Tattoos images I found:

bullet hole from outside
Lower back Tattoos

Image by galdo trouchky
The damages of a crazy story that happened to me:

I was driving with my parents, going to eat at my grandparents’ like we always do on Saturday noon. When we got to the little town where my mom works, which is on the way, I suddenly notice a man and a woman in their 50s, running out of a garden. Since they surprised me, I took a closer look, and saw the guy had a pistol in his hand, and was shooting towards the woman. But as the noise was very low (more like a firecracker than like a TV gunshot), I actually thought they were messing around. But when I saw the woman’s face, twisted with fear, I stopped and shouted “Fuck, he’s shooting her”.
My dad, who hadn’t witnessed the beginning as he was struggling with my radio, opened the left door (my car only has 2 doors) and got out, in order to push his seat and let the woman climb in the back of the car. I opened my door too, and as she was on my side of the road, she climbed on my knees and rolled on to the passenger seat, shouting “He’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna kill me!”.
Since my dad couldn’t sit back in the car, he ran around it to try and stop the guy. But by the time he did, the guy had run to my open door, hardly aimed, and shot, right next to my face. Thinking he’d shot me, my dad punched the guy and turned him around by the sleeve. As I was going to get out of the car to help him and push my seat to let him in, my dad told me to hurry up and start the engine to take the woman to the hospital (we’d all noticed she was hit at the hip). So I did leave, with my mom in the back, talking to the woman in the front seat and holding her hand. I called the emergencies on my cell phone on the way, and they told me to take her to the firemen’s station.
On the way, we asked her her name, which was Borgetto. She told us the guy was her husband, and that he’d just kill her dad. We tried to reassure her by saying her father might just be wounded, but she answered he’d shot him right in the face.
When we got to the station, the firemen were waiting for us. But they looked as if they didn’t know what to do: they left her in my car, and the chief asked for the wound to be cleared. One of them then started to cut her pants, but the scissors weren’t good enough, and he didn’t dare ripping them off, scared to hurt her. He finally did, and then ripped her fishnet stockings (under which she seemed to not be wearing anything. That detail fits well with the fact that she had horrendous manicured hands, and was covered with tattoos). The firemen did realize that there were two holes, on each side of the leg: the bullet had gone through. At last, they took her out of the car and to the hospital by ambulance.
That’s about when I started to freak out (I didn’t have time before, as the whole scene had taken place in less than 2 minutes, and as I was driving). My mom and I asked the firemen if they had news about my dad, who was back there with the crazy guy and the gun. But they didn’t know anything, telling us the police was on their way there. We heard a fireman answer the phone and say “we’re sending you a vehicle to take care of the victims”. Without talking, my mom and I stared at each other, knowing what the plural meant since the woman had only talked to us about her dad.
But a few minutes later, my dad called me on the cell phone to tell us he’d gone to a couple of friends’ house, not far from where it all happened. So before we left to pick him back up, we tried to look for the bullet in the car, in vain. The firemen wrote down my name and phone number, not asking any more information nor my ID.
Then we finally went to my grandparents’.

After the meal, we visited Mrs Borgetto at the hospital to make sure she was ok. Since the bullet had come and go, she didn’t need any surgery, and she’s gonna be alright. Her relatives in the room thanked us and told us that her husband would definitively have finished her if we hadn’t been there. And they confirmed us that the father was dead.

On Sunday, we spent most of the afternoon at the police station. First, the cops tried like us to look for the bullet. It was only because one of them noticed pieces of paint on the front seat that they thought about looking up. It had hit the inside part of the open door. It’s a good thing there was a rubber joint to slow it down, and also a good thing the body of the car was double in this place, because the first sheet of metal was torn.
From inside, it makes a nice little lump, about 2 inches form where my head was:
From what the cops told us, it was a 9mm, and what caused the noise to be so low was that he was using a short type of bullets. They use the same kind of guns, but with parabellum ammo, much longer, and much noisier. They told me I should be happy Mr. Borgetto wasn’t using the same.
Before he’d shot his wife (before we stopped, since the bullet he shot in the car didn’t hit anyone), he’d killed his father-in-law, and had also shot his wife’s god-mother in the chest.

But if for us, the story had ended there, it was not totally finished. After my dad told us to leave, the guy looked at him like it was the first time he was seeing him, coming out of a daze, and yelled “But she’s a whore!”. To which my dad answered “So what, is that a reason?”. The guy then turned around, and slowly walked back to his house. My dad waited until he’d totally disappeared, in case the guy may shoot him in the back, and ran to our friends’ house, where he called us.
Mr. Borgetto locked all the doors, and took his daughter-in-law as a hostage when the police came for him. They tried to negotiate with him, but he even shouted that he wouldn’t come out of this alive. That’s when they decided to get the GIGN to come. The GIGN is sort of what the SWAT is. Unlike what the press said, Mr. Borgetto didn’t surrender to them. The police told us he opened fire on them and almost killed one of them, before they arrested him.

bullet hole from inside
Lower back Tattoos

Image by galdo trouchky
The damages of a crazy story that happened to me:

I was driving with my parents, going to eat at my grandparents’ like we always do on Saturday noon. When we got to the little town where my mom works, which is on the way, I suddenly notice a man and a woman in their 50s, running out of a garden. Since they surprised me, I took a closer look, and saw the guy had a pistol in his hand, and was shooting towards the woman. But as the noise was very low (more like a firecracker than like a TV gunshot), I actually thought they were messing around. But when I saw the woman’s face, twisted with fear, I stopped and shouted “Fuck, he’s shooting her”.
My dad, who hadn’t witnessed the beginning as he was struggling with my radio, opened the left door (my car only has 2 doors) and got out, in order to push his seat and let the woman climb in the back of the car. I opened my door too, and as she was on my side of the road, she climbed on my knees and rolled on to the passenger seat, shouting “He’s gonna kill me, he’s gonna kill me!”.
Since my dad couldn’t sit back in the car, he ran around it to try and stop the guy. But by the time he did, the guy had run to my open door, hardly aimed, and shot, right next to my face. Thinking he’d shot me, my dad punched the guy and turned him around by the sleeve. As I was going to get out of the car to help him and push my seat to let him in, my dad told me to hurry up and start the engine to take the woman to the hospital (we’d all noticed she was hit at the hip). So I did leave, with my mom in the back, talking to the woman in the front seat and holding her hand. I called the emergencies on my cell phone on the way, and they told me to take her to the firemen’s station.
On the way, we asked her her name, which was Borgetto. She told us the guy was her husband, and that he’d just kill her dad. We tried to reassure her by saying her father might just be wounded, but she answered he’d shot him right in the face.
When we got to the station, the firemen were waiting for us. But they looked as if they didn’t know what to do: they left her in my car, and the chief asked for the wound to be cleared. One of them then started to cut her pants, but the scissors weren’t good enough, and he didn’t dare ripping them off, scared to hurt her. He finally did, and then ripped her fishnet stockings (under which she seemed to not be wearing anything. That detail fits well with the fact that she had horrendous manicured hands, and was covered with tattoos). The firemen did realize that there were two holes, on each side of the leg: the bullet had gone through. At last, they took her out of the car and to the hospital by ambulance.
That’s about when I started to freak out (I didn’t have time before, as the whole scene had taken place in less than 2 minutes, and as I was driving). My mom and I asked the firemen if they had news about my dad, who was back there with the crazy guy and the gun. But they didn’t know anything, telling us the police was on their way there. We heard a fireman answer the phone and say “we’re sending you a vehicle to take care of the victims”. Without talking, my mom and I stared at each other, knowing what the plural meant since the woman had only talked to us about her dad.
But a few minutes later, my dad called me on the cell phone to tell us he’d gone to a couple of friends’ house, not far from where it all happened. So before we left to pick him back up, we tried to look for the bullet in the car, in vain. The firemen wrote down my name and phone number, not asking any more information nor my ID.
Then we finally went to my grandparents’.

After the meal, we visited Mrs Borgetto at the hospital to make sure she was ok. Since the bullet had come and go, she didn’t need any surgery, and she’s gonna be alright. Her relatives in the room thanked us and told us that her husband would definitively have finished her if we hadn’t been there. And they confirmed us that the father was dead.

On Sunday, we spent most of the afternoon at the police station. First, the cops tried like us to look for the bullet. It was only because one of them noticed pieces of paint on the front seat that they thought about looking up. It had hit the inside part of the open door. It’s a good thing there was a rubber joint to slow it down, and also a good thing the body of the car was double in this place, because the first sheet of metal was torn.
From inside, it makes a nice little lump, about 2 inches form where my head was:
From what the cops told us, it was a 9mm, and what caused the noise to be so low was that he was using a short type of bullets. They use the same kind of guns, but with parabellum ammo, much longer, and much noisier. They told me I should be happy Mr. Borgetto wasn’t using the same.
Before he’d shot his wife (before we stopped, since the bullet he shot in the car didn’t hit anyone), he’d killed his father-in-law, and had also shot his wife’s god-mother in the chest.

But if for us, the story had ended there, it was not totally finished. After my dad told us to leave, the guy looked at him like it was the first time he was seeing him, coming out of a daze, and yelled “But she’s a whore!”. To which my dad answered “So what, is that a reason?”. The guy then turned around, and slowly walked back to his house. My dad waited until he’d totally disappeared, in case the guy may shoot him in the back, and ran to our friends’ house, where he called us.
Mr. Borgetto locked all the doors, and took his daughter-in-law as a hostage when the police came for him. They tried to negotiate with him, but he even shouted that he wouldn’t come out of this alive. That’s when they decided to get the GIGN to come. The GIGN is sort of what the SWAT is. Unlike what the press said, Mr. Borgetto didn’t surrender to them. The police told us he opened fire on them and almost killed one of them, before they arrested him.

Cool Lower Back Tattoos photos

Wednesday, April 17th, 2013

Some cool Lower back Tattoos images:

My Radiation Machine
Lower back Tattoos

Image by Derek K. Miller
I lie face down on the table, which then rises up. Radiation technologists adjust my position with the laser and rulers on the wall and floor, primarily based on the three tattoos on my decrease back. Then they leave the area and close the huge thick door behind them.

The linear accelerator pivots to 1 side, blasts me twice with radiation, pivots to the other side, blasts me twice once again, then returns to the topmost position and blasts me again.

I hear a buzzing noise every single time, but never really feel anything. I do not get to appear at the photos on the ceiling — just the surface of the table in front of my face. The whole approach requires about five minutes. It happens each and every weekday, and will from mid-April to late Could 2007.

THUG LIFE!
Lower back Tattoos

Image by blythe_d
Funny story: Hanging out at… crap, I can not keep in mind the name of the second bar. But we have been enjoying a pitcher of Blue Moon (sidenote: Thank you, Rachel, for turning me on to that) when a couple of gangsta-types waltz in. Guess they have been grabbing a couple of drinks before the Wu-Tang show? Anyhow, this 1 chick walks previous and turns to order a drink at the bar and I catch sight of her tattoo on her decrease back (I refuse to contact it a buttstache or tramp stamp simply because… well, I have a single). I ask Stef to check due to the fact with my crappy vision, I swear my eyes should be deceiving me.

Apparently not.

Yes, this lady had &quotTHUG LIFE&quot tattooed on her reduce back. So a lot cooler than mine. I dared Tory to try to get a photo, but he was scared her homie boyfriend would throw down.

Cool Lower Back Tattoos images

Thursday, March 28th, 2013

Some cool Lower back Tattoos images:

Afternoon Delight
Lower back Tattoos

Image by The Jake Gordon
This week in D.C., I randomly ended up in a bar in Georgetown named Clyde’s. My uncle utilized to love it when he was a hippie in D.C. in the 70’s.

This bar utilized to have an appetizer special on the late- afternoon menu created of shrimp, almonds and brie. This fare (plus beer) brought in the locals like Bill Danoff. My uncle employed to run into Bill. He told me about how Bill and his wife really wrote John Denver’s classic &quotTake Me House (Nation Roads)&quot and he saw them sing back-up to John 1 time as a band referred to as &quotFat City&quot.

Which produced me wonder…I had just read about a Mr. Bill Danoff and his wife Taffy, except the band wasn’t Fat City, it was the Starland Vocal Band.

And short trip about the bar confirmed, low-and-behold, there is was.

Great.

Of course featured in Anchorman but also Starsky &amp Hutch, Excellent Will Hunting and then TV’s Arrested Improvement and the Simpsons (Homer had a Starland Vocal Band tattoo. Even the classic film PCU (it is the song they play when they lock the celebration inside the Dean’s property). Awws yeah.

We maintain our cellphone in our hands when we’re waiting for our boyfriend
Lower back Tattoos

Image by Ed Yourdon
I watched this woman sitting alone, at the 72nd Street entrance on the west Side of Central Park, looking quite unhappy she clutched her cellphone in her hands but did not use it, as if she was waiting for a contact. Following about five-10 minutes, a guy came along and greeted her click here to see him. I assume he was the boyfriend, but in any case, she continued clutching her cellphone…

Note: this photo was published in a Jun 12, 2009 blog titled &quotUnhappy? Cease attempting to be happier.&quot And a cropped version of the photo was published in a Sep 23, 2009 German blog titled &quotWie lange auf den Anruf warten?&quot It was also published in a Jul 4, 2010 weblog titled &quotIs Your Revenue Standard As well Low?&quot And it was also published in an Oct five, 2011 weblog titled Tolle Computerized Bilder, with the very same caption and detailed notes that I had written on this Flickr page.

Moving into 2012, the photo was published in an Apr 24, 2012 blog titled &quotfour Ways to Stay Sane in a Toxic Office.&quot

****************************

Searching back on some old pictures from 40-50 years ago, I was struck by how visible the differences were amongst the culture of then, versus the culture of now. In some cases, it was evident from the factors folks wore, or carried, or did, back then which they no longer do these days. But often it was the opposite: issues that did not exist back in the 1960s and 1970s have turn out to be a pervasive component of today’s culture.

A great instance is the cellphone: 20 years ago, it basically didn’t exist. Even ten years ago, it was a reasonably uncommon sight, and generally only on major streets of massive cities. Today, of course, cell phones are everywhere, and every person is employing them in a assortment of culture contexts.

Even so, I do not think this is a permanent phenomenon following all, if you believe back to the early 1980s, you possibly would have observed a lot of individuals carrying Sony Walkmans, or &quotboom-box&quot portable radios — all of which have disappeared…

If Moore’s Law (which basically says that computers double in power each and every 18 months) holds up for an additional decade, then we’ll have computerized gadgets around one hundred instances smaller sized, more rapidly, more affordable, and much better — which indicates far better integration of music, camera, messaging, and telephone, but also the possibility of the devices getting so tiny that they’re embedded into our eyeglasses, our earrings, or a tattoo on our forehead.

So the point of this album is to provide a frame of reference — so that we can (hopefully) look back 10-20 years from now, and say, &quotWasn’t it actually weird that we behaved in such bizarre approaches while we interacted with those primitive devices?&quot

170
Lower back Tattoos

Image by me and the sysop
secret 14 is not a secret to everybody, but the majority of individuals i know now (i.e. coworkers) don’t comprehend i am bipolar. i’ve pointed out it on this picture and this image, which come about to be a couple of my favorites thusfar in my 365.

anyhoot, in sum, i began cutting myself when i was 13. i punched walls for a lengthy time, but my mom would complain about the noise i made. i would punch as difficult as i could and often cut my knuckles. i do not don’t forget the very first time i cut myself, but it was a quieter way of releasing stress.

the first time i abused myself in a related manner was with a plain old #2 pencil. i etched a cross (from my perspective, upside down) into my left hand amongst the forefinger and thumb. i kept digging into it as the skin opened, filling the wound with graphite. as the graphite washed out, i would refill it employing colored pencils. temporary graphite tattoo.

i knew it was incorrect on some level, so one day, sitting on the hearth, i removed the bandaid and showed mom the cross. she was upset, naturally, and created me promise never ever to do it again. maybe that is why i began using sharp metal objects, to comply with her want on a technical level.

i was 13 at that time, and i did not quit for six years. the last date, to be exact, was march 7, 2003. i utilized the identical pink washcloth to soak up/stop the bleeding, and i nevertheless have it.

permit me to story inform. once my mother and i had been having a fight when i was, oh, almost certainly 16. this was the year it peaked. i confessed to my mother that i had been smoking pot and possessing sex with strange boys, that i missed my period two months in a row, and i had some kind of infection &quotdown there&quot (staph, deserved it). following that she tried to be understanding, but i know i would have been just as angry.

she went somewhere right after a single of our fights, leaving me along with five-year-old sarah. she played in her room subsequent to mine, and i sat in my pink bean bag and started tearing my arms up with dull scissors. i felt awful, and i wanted it to be ugly and painful. i dug and dug till blood was dripping all more than my arms and legs. mom walked in, scissors nevertheless in my hands, and went berserk. she asked how could i do that with sarah in the subsequent area? what if i go as well far and kill myself? how does she explain to a 5-year-old that her sister is gone and by no means coming back?

that coupled with my following encounter was 1 of the most potent ones. i wore extended sleeves and ace bandages to cover my scars. (once a buddy saw a tip of 1, yanked up my sleeve, and said, &quotyou’ve been doing it once again, haven’t you!&quot whilst we were in class. i was MORTIFIED. thankfully no one knew what the hell he was talking about.) while in the bathroom checking on these cuts, infant sarah walked in and saw them, raw and glistening with barely wet blood. her eyes went wide and she looked so hurt as she asked what was wrong. i blamed it on the dog. she was nevertheless upset.

i continued on for some years right after that, but by that point it was an addiction. i did not want to do it, but it was the only factor i knew to do. the only time i seriously regarded suicide was december 17, 1999 (16 years old). instantly following generating the gash on my appropriate arm, about four inches extended and a quarter inch deep, i knew i made a error. blood right away was everywhere on my physique and my bed. having already been abandoned by my high best friend (no challenging feelings, honestly) and &quotboyfriend,&quot i referred to as my other very best buddy. even even though she was cleaning a flooded kitchen, she dropped everything to get me. she didn’t even place on shoes. she played &quottake me down&quot by the smashing pumpkins/james iha on our way to her house. she took me to the bathroom, shut the door, and gasped when she saw it. i soaked a white washcloth in my blood and continued to apologize for ruining her washcloth.

i never got stitches. the wounds sat gaping, sticking to any material barely coming into contact with them, for weeks.

an additional powerful moment was when my college-era ideal pal saw fresh cuts, turned her face into a vision of anguish, and gently kissed the fresh wounds. it was the most gorgeous and loving thing i can imagine.

i could go on, but truly i cannot due to the topic matter of this photo. being bipolar, i do not sleep properly. depression causes a single to wake up many instances during the evening, and mania (for me at least) prevents me from sleeping simply because i am not tired. i took a tylenol PM knockoff as instructed by dr. mom and now require to crash. taking tablets that expired a month ago and had been stuck with each other in the bottle is safe, appropriate? they turn out to be much less potent and not more poisonous?

operate is intensely insane. i’m doing 3 people’s jobs and stressing. i really feel guilty that i cannot cope, but mom stated i’m trying to do 120 hours of perform in one week. it is just not going to happen, and i need to have to try and lower my standards to a far more affordable mark. i’ve joked that if my kids are athletic, i’m going to be the scary demanding father who thinks you never execute properly adequate, that your actions are slowing down the group. that is what i am hearing in my head.

9/18/08 21:33

Cool Lower Back Tattoos pictures

Tuesday, March 26th, 2013

A few nice Lower back Tattoos images I found:

Day 19 – Poe Tribute
Lower back Tattoos

Image by DustyAllDayLong
2009 – 365 – 19

~The Tell Tale Heart~ by Edgar Allan Poe (January 19, 1809 – October 7, 1849)

TRUE! – nervous – very, very dreadfully nervous I had been and am; but why will you say that I am mad? The disease had sharpened my senses – not destroyed – not dulled them. Above all was the sense of hearing acute. I heard all things in the heaven and in the earth. I heard many things in hell. How, then, am I mad? Hearken! and observe how healthily – how calmly I can tell you the whole story.

It is impossible to say how first the idea entered my brain; but once conceived, it haunted me day and night. Object there was none. Passion there was none. I loved the old man. He had never wronged me. He had never given me insult. For his gold I had no desire. I think it was his eye! yes, it was this! He had the eye of a vulture – a pale blue eye, with a film over it. Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees – very gradually – I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever.

Now this is the point. You fancy me mad. Madmen know nothing. But you should have seen me. You should have seen how wisely I proceeded – with what caution – with what foresight – with what dissimulation I went to work! I was never kinder to the old man than during the whole week before I killed him. And every night, about midnight, I turned the latch of his door and opened it – oh so gently! And then, when I had made an opening sufficient for my head, I put in a dark lantern, all closed, closed, that no light shone out, and then I thrust in my head. Oh, you would have laughed to see how cunningly I thrust it in! I moved it slowly – very, very slowly, so that I might not disturb the old man’s sleep. It took me an hour to place my whole head within the opening so far that I could see him as he lay upon his bed. Ha! would a madman have been so wise as this, And then, when my head was well in the room, I undid the lantern cautiously-oh, so cautiously – cautiously (for the hinges creaked) – I undid it just so much that a single thin ray fell upon the vulture eye. And this I did for seven long nights – every night just at midnight – but I found the eye always closed; and so it was impossible to do the work; for it was not the old man who vexed me, but his Evil Eye. And every morning, when the day broke, I went boldly into the chamber, and spoke courageously to him, calling him by name in a hearty tone, and inquiring how he has passed the night. So you see he would have been a very profound old man, indeed, to suspect that every night, just at twelve, I looked in upon him while he slept.

Upon the eighth night I was more than usually cautious in opening the door. A watch’s minute hand moves more quickly than did mine. Never before that night had I felt the extent of my own powers – of my sagacity. I could scarcely contain my feelings of triumph. To think that there I was, opening the door, little by little, and he not even to dream of my secret deeds or thoughts. I fairly chuckled at the idea; and perhaps he heard me; for he moved on the bed suddenly, as if startled. Now you may think that I drew back – but no. His room was as black as pitch with the thick darkness, (for the shutters were close fastened, through fear of robbers,) and so I knew that he could not see the opening of the door, and I kept pushing it on steadily, steadily.

I had my head in, and was about to open the lantern, when my thumb slipped upon the tin fastening, and the old man sprang up in bed, crying out – "Who’s there?"

I kept quite still and said nothing. For a whole hour I did not move a muscle, and in the meantime I did not hear him lie down. He was still sitting up in the bed listening; – just as I have done, night after night, hearkening to the death watches in the wall.

Presently I heard a slight groan, and I knew it was the groan of mortal terror. It was not a groan of pain or of grief – oh, no! – it was the low stifled sound that arises from the bottom of the soul when overcharged with awe. I knew the sound well. Many a night, just at midnight, when all the world slept, it has welled up from my own bosom, deepening, with its dreadful echo, the terrors that distracted me. I say I knew it well. I knew what the old man felt, and pitied him, although I chuckled at heart. I knew that he had been lying awake ever since the first slight noise, when he had turned in the bed. His fears had been ever since growing upon him. He had been trying to fancy them causeless, but could not. He had been saying to himself – "It is nothing but the wind in the chimney – it is only a mouse crossing the floor," or "It is merely a cricket which has made a single chirp." Yes, he had been trying to comfort himself with these suppositions: but he had found all in vain. All in vain; because Death, in approaching him had stalked with his black shadow before him, and enveloped the victim. And it was the mournful influence of the unperceived shadow that caused him to feel – although he neither saw nor heard – to feel the presence of my head within the room.

When I had waited a long time, very patiently, without hearing him lie down, I resolved to open a little – a very, very little crevice in the lantern. So I opened it – you cannot imagine how stealthily, stealthily – until, at length a simple dim ray, like the thread of the spider, shot from out the crevice and fell full upon the vulture eye.

It was open – wide, wide open – and I grew furious as I gazed upon it. I saw it with perfect distinctness – all a dull blue, with a hideous veil over it that chilled the very marrow in my bones; but I could see nothing else of the old man’s face or person: for I had directed the ray as if by instinct, precisely upon the damned spot.

And have I not told you that what you mistake for madness is but over-acuteness of the sense? – now, I say, there came to my ears a low, dull, quick sound, such as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I knew that sound well, too. It was the beating of the old man’s heart. It increased my fury, as the beating of a drum stimulates the soldier into courage.

But even yet I refrained and kept still. I scarcely breathed. I held the lantern motionless. I tried how steadily I could maintain the ray upon the eye. Meantime the hellish tattoo of the heart increased. It grew quicker and quicker, and louder and louder every instant. The old man’s terror must have been extreme! It grew louder, I say, louder every moment! – do you mark me well I have told you that I am nervous: so I am. And now at the dead hour of the night, amid the dreadful silence of that old house, so strange a noise as this excited me to uncontrollable terror. Yet, for some minutes longer I refrained and stood still. But the beating grew louder, louder! I thought the heart must burst. And now a new anxiety seized me – the sound would be heard by a neighbour! The old man’s hour had come! With a loud yell, I threw open the lantern and leaped into the room. He shrieked once – once only. In an instant I dragged him to the floor, and pulled the heavy bed over him. I then smiled gaily, to find the deed so far done. But, for many minutes, the heart beat on with a muffled sound. This, however, did not vex me; it would not be heard through the wall. At length it ceased. The old man was dead. I removed the bed and examined the corpse. Yes, he was stone, stone dead. I placed my hand upon the heart and held it there many minutes. There was no pulsation. He was stone dead. His eve would trouble me no more.

If still you think me mad, you will think so no longer when I describe the wise precautions I took for the concealment of the body. The night waned, and I worked hastily, but in silence. First of all I dismembered the corpse. I cut off the head and the arms and the legs.

I then took up three planks from the flooring of the chamber, and deposited all between the scantlings. I then replaced the boards so cleverly, so cunningly, that no human eye – not even his – could have detected any thing wrong. There was nothing to wash out – no stain of any kind – no blood-spot whatever. I had been too wary for that. A tub had caught all – ha! ha!

When I had made an end of these labors, it was four o’clock – still dark as midnight. As the bell sounded the hour, there came a knocking at the street door. I went down to open it with a light heart, – for what had I now to fear? There entered three men, who introduced themselves, with perfect suavity, as officers of the police. A shriek had been heard by a neighbour during the night; suspicion of foul play had been aroused; information had been lodged at the police office, and they (the officers) had been deputed to search the premises.

I smiled, – for what had I to fear? I bade the gentlemen welcome. The shriek, I said, was my own in a dream. The old man, I mentioned, was absent in the country. I took my visitors all over the house. I bade them search – search well. I led them, at length, to his chamber. I showed them his treasures, secure, undisturbed. In the enthusiasm of my confidence, I brought chairs into the room, and desired them here to rest from their fatigues, while I myself, in the wild audacity of my perfect triumph, placed my own seat upon the very spot beneath which reposed the corpse of the victim.

The officers were satisfied. My manner had convinced them. I was singularly at ease. They sat, and while I answered cheerily, they chatted of familiar things. But, ere long, I felt myself getting pale and wished them gone. My head ached, and I fancied a ringing in my ears: but still they sat and still chatted. The ringing became more distinct: – It continued and became more distinct: I talked more freely to get rid of the feeling: but it continued and gained definiteness – until, at length, I found that the noise was not within my ears.

No doubt I now grew very pale; – but I talked more fluently, and with a heightened voice. Yet the sound increased – and what could I do? It was a low, dull, quick sound – much such a sound as a watch makes when enveloped in cotton. I gasped for breath – and yet the officers heard it not. I talked more quickly – more vehemently; but the noise steadily increased. I arose and argued about trifles, in a high key and with violent gesticulations; but the noise steadily increased. Why would they not be gone? I paced the floor to and fro with heavy strides, as if excited to fury by the observations of the men – but the noise steadily increased. Oh God! what could I do? I foamed – I raved – I swore! I swung the chair upon which I had been sitting, and grated it upon the boards, but the noise arose over all and continually increased. It grew louder – louder – louder! And still the men chatted pleasantly, and smiled. Was it possible they heard not? Almighty God! – no, no! They heard! – they suspected! – they knew! – they were making a mockery of my horror!-this I thought, and this I think. But anything was better than this agony! Anything was more tolerable than this derision! I could bear those hypocritical smiles no longer! I felt that I must scream or die! and now – again! – hark! louder! louder! louder! louder!

"Villains!" I shrieked, "dissemble no more! I admit the deed! – tear up the planks! here, here! – It is the beating of his hideous heart!"

1. 1, 2. 3, 3. 5, 4. 4, 5. 6, 6. 8, 7. 9, 8. 7

Created with fd’s Flickr Toys.

Noelia_4 © studio.es
Lower back Tattoos

Image by Vincent Boiteau
© studio.es

Popping by the studio on the way back from the beach! As the temperatures rise, i find it more and more leaving the beach! This was done with a small (100×100) lightbox camera right, single light, deep contrast! Noelia and i thought we should do a part II of the low-light shots. She has a lovely tattoo which is very difficult to shoot looking natural.

My Neck Gets Longer
Lower back Tattoos

Image by Boogies with Fish
www.messersmith.name/wordpress/2011/05/28/my-neck-gets-lo…
My bags are packed. I’m ready to go. As you read this I will possibly be zipping across the sky from Buffalo to Phoenix leaving behind me a trail of noxious fumes. I will do this with the aid of an airplane, one Continental Airlines monster or another. As I board I will be chanting the mantra of all sensible airline passengers, "Sure hope the plane don’t crash."

My suitcase is half full of the warmest clothing which I own. I certainly hope that I will not need them any longer once I reach Sedona. According the the 14 day trend, the lowest daytime temperature I’ll encounter for a while will be about 32°C (about 90°F). At night I might have to put up with 18°C (about 64°F). This is much more my speed. Now that I have wasted your time giving you my personal weather forecast I’ll move on to the equally boring subject of this post – my neck.

For several months I’ve had tingly fingers. The last two fingers on each hand are a bit numb and feel as if they have been frozen and are thawing out. It’s not debilitating, but it’s not pleasant, either. I’ve heard suggestions that it might be a pinched nerve in my neck. Googling seems to confirm the possibility. I’ve also heard suggestions that I might get my neck stretched. This does not appeal to me. I prefer the do-it-yourself approach.

A couple of weeks ago I was suddenly attacked by the idea that I could think my neck longer. Perhaps it might stretch itself. Yes, I know what you are thinking. However, in this case, you overestimate my absurdity. As I went about thinking about my neck being longer I discovered that if, for instance, I’m walking or sitting or whatever and I sort of make my head higher (it is hard to explain) my neck will stretch a little, maybe a few millimeters. I’ve been doing this pretty regularly several times a day. I’ve tried to hold that posture as long as I can continue thinking about it. After a while I forget what I was doing and my neck gets shorter again. I feel like a turtle.

It’s a distinctly strange sensation to think your neck longer. If I do it right now as I’m writing about it, I can describe it to you. First, I have to calm myself a little and hold my head level while looking straight ahead. Then I think about my neck being longer; I stretch it mentally. My head actually moves up a little, accompanied by some rather unpleasant popping and crackling noises. That’s the not-so-nice bit. The nice bit is that, after only a short while, I can feel the tingling in my fingers abating.

The weirdest thing about this is that it appears to be working. I don’t imagine that my neck looks any longer, but the tingling in my fingers has reduced appreciably, even when I’m not stretching my neck. Is it possible that I’d discovered a new medical technique? Can I patent it?

Okay, that’s pretty much everything I can squeeze out of that subject. If you’re still here I have some miscellaneous pictures from the last couple of weeks to show to you.

It’s entirely possible that you have never seen the Willis Tower (I still think of it as the Sears Tower) in Chicago nearly obscured by fog:

Now you have. One less thing, eh?

While we’re doing tall things (hey, this fits in with the neck-stretching!) have a look at this shot of the big CN Tower in Toronto being annoyed by some wanna-be big ones. I call it Conflicting Egos:

Okay, so I get zero points for clever title.

Toronto is chock full of sculpture. Some of it is very cool. Others are so-so. I grabbed this shot from my bus:

I don’t know what to say about it. It’s big. It’s sculpture. It’s art. It reminds me of an eggbeater.

This also is a bus shot:

At first I thought, "How cruel. They are all tied together." Then I noticed that they are simply hanging onto the child-securing line. This impressed me. They are remarkably obedient and rule-following. Hey, they are little Canadians. We would expect no less of them . If that sounds sarcastic, it’s not meant to be. I much admire Canada and its adorable inhabitants. I even have a tattoo to celebrate the whole idea of Canada. I would happily be a Canadian, if only it were possible. I might even survive the first winter. Or maybe not.

When I do these miscellanea posts I often fret over which images are worthy of the space. This one falls in the "I don’t know." category. I include it only because I have not previously seen a pine tree which sports cute little green pom-poms on each branch:

Okay . . .

Moving on now. I went to Fort George with Ron a few days ago. It was amusing. Ron stepped in a skunk hole and took a tumble. Actually, that part was somewhat less amusing and more scary. It could just as easily been me. You know, I have never been hurt while engaging in any of my adventurous activities. Years of cave exploring, rock climbing, flying helicopters, SCUBA diving, slogging through swamps and jungles, not to mention some recent skydiving have done me no injuries. The only times I have ever gotten hurt was when I was minding my own business and suddenly found myslef picking myself up off the ground. Perhaps this indicates that I am most at risk when I’m not paying attention, eh?

We gawked at the old buildings and I snapped a few of the mildly interesting items. No, really, that’s not fair. It is quite a spectacular place and well worth a visit. I’m just being difficult and moody. I did particularly want to get a shot of the demonstration of musket shooting. Maybe everybody else in the world has seen this, but it was my first time.

Here is the spiffily dressed soldier firing his musket:

Well, as you can see, that didn’t work out so well. The stupid thing failed to fire four times in a row. The guy who was talking us through the demonstration had just mentioned that the weapons were highly unreliable. So, having relaxed my guard, I lined up my camera for the fifth try and KA-BOOM the thing went off. It surprised me so much that my camera jumped out of my hands. I successfully juggled it back into my grip before it fell to the ground. I had a little laugh when I looked at the shot.

The shooter then went through his routine of loading the musket and fired again. I finally got the shot I wanted:

Uh, right. That one is checked off the list.

I’ll start winding things down with this shot off Morningstar Mill:

Don’t believe the "Always on hand" part. They had no flour for sale, not that I wanted to buy any. It is, however, a pretty site.

Here is a shot of the small waterfall:

I had to take three exposures at different levels of brightness and combine them into a single high dynamic range shot to make this image. Isn’t that fascinating? Anyway, you can see a rainbow in the mist at the right, if you look very closely.

The shot above and this one are what I call "Calendar Junk":

Pretty, but devoid of purpose or meaning.

They are the pop-stars of images.

Cool Lower Back Tattoos images

Monday, March 25th, 2013

Some cool Lower back Tattoos images:

WEATHER COMPENDIUM: Ships in port on wet, windy, dreary and dull days – NTL, artistical touches H.J Kookaburra].
Lower back Tattoos

Image by Kookaburra2011
6191. The photo, from the Northern Territory Library, shows HMAS VOYAGER [I] in Darwin in 1942.

Well, this is going to be a biggy. With a title like that above, one feels that critical and artistic success is assured, as well as a smash hit at the box office. We wish to stress from the outset, however, that the collection does NOT contain images of warships battling storms at sea. All the images linked below are contained within ports and harbours, mostly around Australia, but also overseas.

We now go further and say that not only does it illustrate barometric pressure readings, but that the COMPENDIUM is open to serious scientific study.

With almost 6,200 images on the Photostream the scope of it reaches a scientifically acceptable survey or polling sample. So, the question is this: with roughly 35,000 nautical miles of Australian coastline, why is it that something like 95% of our awful weather images seem to come from the one place, Port Phillip Bay and the dear old city of Melbourne?

Dealing with thousands of ship photographs over more than 100 years of RAN history – particularly the superb images of Allan Charles Green [1878-1954] from the State Library of Victoria – this is something we have noticed for years.

Being a Melbourne resident, born and bred, Kookaburra would have to say there is a serious and consistent difference in the light between Port Phillip and perhaps all of our northern other ports and harbours. It’s a guesstimate, but we would say that 60-70% of Green’s Melbourne images – and there are thousands of them – are taken in poor light, ranging from a monotone dull to drizzling and outright stormy. Weather to turn an umbrella inside out [ like the first few images in the COMPENDIUM below].

We forgot some of this weather effect here during South Eastern Australia’s 13 years of drought, from 1997-8 to 2010-11, when Victoria was something like living in Queensland and intra-state migration patterns reversed. But now the low pressure systems coming from Bass Strait and the Southern Ocean are seriously back. Water storages are nearly full again, and we’re nostalgic for the sunny days of drought.

We present here the raw data in COMPENDIUM form of more than 60 images. Our ‘comment’ boxes are open below for similar scientific obervations.

Photo: Northern Territory Library, artistic treatment H.J. Kookaburra.

The COMPENDIUM:
Pics 1058, May 23, 1949: HMAS SYDNEY [III] departs Melbourne on a dark delivery voyage 1. A.C. Green, SLV.
www.flickr.com/photos/41311545@N05/4345193761/
Pic 1636: May 23, 1949, HMAS SYDNEY [III] departs Melbourne on a dark delivery voyage 2, A.C. Green, SLV.
www.flickr.com/photos/41311545@N05/4360904373/
Pic 1097: May 23, 1949, HMAS SYDNEY [III] departs Melbourne in bleak weather, A.C., Green, SLV.
www.flickr.com/photos/41311545@N05/4577505567/
Pic . 1057. Nov. 6, 1952, frigate HMAS MACQUARIE shivers in Melbourne’s Yarra, A.C. Green, SLV.
www.flickr.com/photos/41311545@N05/4345177809/in/photostr…
Pic 933, P&O’s PATONGA, drenched at Station Pier Melbourne, 1960s, by Robert Winduss
www.flickr.com/photos/41311545@N05/4312835219/
Pic 2704. HMAS ANZAC [II] launched in drizzle at Williamstown, Aug. 20, 1948, A.C. Green SLKV.
www.flickr.com/photos/41311545@N05/4892343795/
Pic 605. Destroyer HMAS SWORDSMAN with advancing thunderheads in Melbourne’s Yarra, 1920s, A.C. Green, SLV.
www.flickr.com/photos/41311545@N05/3955549603/
Pic 790: Destroyer HMAS QUICKMATCH under lowering skies, Melbourne Dec 17, 1946, A.C. Green, SLV.
www.flickr.com/photos/41311545@N05/3992948775/
Pic 794. HMAS SHOALHAVEN gets a soaking in Melbourne Feb. 13, 1947, A.C. Green , SLV.
www.flickr.com/photos/41311545@N05/3995426712/
Pic 603. HMAS SUCCESS [I] in light but drenching rain, Melbourne, 1920, A.C. Green, SLV.
www.flickr.com/photos/41311545@N05/3956282074/
Pic. 1500, frigate HMAS CULGOA docks against advancing weather, Melbourne, Nov. 8, 1948, A.C. Green, SLV.
www.flickr.com/photos/41311545@N05/4502030857/
Pic 583. Mar. 7, 1949, frigate HMAS BARCOO on bracing Port Phillip Bay, A.C. Green, SLV.
www.flickr.com/photos/41311545@N05/3952907481/
Pic 1436 BARCOO in showery Melbourne on July 24, 1946, A.c. Green, SLV.
www.flickr.com/photos/41311545@N05/4469043601/in/photostream
Pic 973. Frigate HMAS BARWON pays off on chilly Port Phillip Bay, Mar. 1947, A.C. Green, SLV.
www.flickr.com/photos/41311545@N05/4324991062/in/photostream
Pic 1073: Carrier HMS THESEUS gets an inkling of Melbourne’s weather, July 11, 1947, A.C. Green, SLV.
www.flickr.com/photos/41311545@N05/4351297646/in/photostream
Pic1003. Battleship USS OKLAHOMA approaches Bleak City, July 1925 – A.C. Green, SLV.
www.flickr.com/photos/41311545@N05/4331975373/in/photostream
Pic 1071. July 5, 1947, frigate HMAS SHOALHAVEN and the colours of Melbourne, A.C. Green, SLV.
www.flickr.com/photos/41311545@N05/4351266864/in/photostream
Pic1401: AUSTRALIA [II] and frigate MURCHISON huddle at Wellington, NZ, Feb. 1950
www.flickr.com/photos/41311545@N05/4456567793/in/photostream
Pic 1524. LST 3014 docked docked a dreary day in Melbourne, ca 1946, A.C. Green, SLV.
www.flickr.com/photos/41311545@N05/4519690668/in/photostream
Pic. 1121. Mar. 76, 1949, a brisk outing for corvette HMAS LATROBE in Melbourne, A.C. Green, SLV.
www.flickr.com/photos/41311545@N05/4368799985/
Pic 1038 “S’ Class destroyer HMAS TATTOO on a gloomy Melbourne day, ca. 1925, A.C. Green, SLV.
www.flickr.com/photos/41311545@N05/4339669975/
Pic. 724. June 17, 1946, HMAS BATAAN leaves Melbourne on a dark day, A.C. Green, SLV.
www.flickr.com/photos/41311545@N05/3976460375/
Pic 1902, Ca. 1920s, cruiser HMAS BRISBANE [I] is accord with Melbourne’s weather, A.C. Green, SLV.
www.flickr.com/photos/41311545@N05/4634137541/
Pic 488. HMAS TOBRUK in Melbourne’s Port Phillip Bay on a typical 1952 day, A.C. Green, SLV.
www.flickr.com/photos/41311545@N05/3936697627/
Pic 1531. Oct. 1934 Italy’s ARMANDO DIAZ arrives to a cloudy Melbourne welcome, A.C. Green, SLV.
www.flickr.com/photos/41311545@N05/4525739266/
Pic 1608-9. Feb. 14, 1946, returning HMAS AUSTRALIA [II] departs stormy Melbourne, A.C. Green SLV.
www.flickr.com/photos/41311545@N05/4550740472/in/photostr…

www.flickr.com/photos/41311545@N05/4550208057/
Pic 2159: Oct 1938: HMAS HOBART [I] and HMAS ALBATROSS in puddled Portsmouth, UK.
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653. May 1920, HMS RENOWN and the Prince of Wales receive a less-than-sunny welcome in Melbourne, A.C. Green, SLV.
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Pic 1059, Torpedo Boat Destroyer [TBD] HMAS WARREGO [I] on inclement Port Phillip Bay, May 1920, A.C. Green, SLV.
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Pic 476. A new mother farewells HMAS AUSTRALIA [II] from a wet pier in Melbourne, Clarrie Cook
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Pic 596-7: HMAS HOBART [I] under modernization with grey skies in Newcastle, NSW, Feb. 21, 1955.
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Pic 965. July 17, 1937, HMAS AUSTRALIA [II] at a wet, puddled wharf in Brisbane.
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Pic 2384. HMAS BRISBANE [II] swept by showers in Manila, Aug 28, 1992, by Glenn Crouch.
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Pic 2581: HMAS WARRAMUNGA and HALIGONIAN DUKE in Melbourne during the great nationwide winter strike of July 1949.
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Pic 188. HMAS BARCOO grounded at Glenelg, South Australia, April 12, 1948.
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Pic 241. A November storm builds up over Garden Island, Sydney.
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Pic 2398; HOBART [II] and PERTH [II] in wet windy Auckland, Oct 2, 1991, Glenn Crouch.
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Pic2607 HMAS QUEENBOROUGH on a dark 1967 day in Sydney.
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Pic3035; destroyer HMAS in overcast Newcastle NSW , April 27, 1955, Sam Hood.
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Pic 3161: HMAS AUSTRALIA [II] under a cloud, 1950.
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Pic 3422; HMAS ARUNTA, CULGOA, and AUSTRALIA [II] at blustery Port Melbourne.
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Pic 3931. Corvette HMAS MARYBOROUGH nearing completion at Walkers yard in Maryborough, Qld.
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Pic 4270 HMAS QUEENBOROUGH and PERTH [II] on a drizzling day at Garden Island, Sydney, 1969.
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Pic 4280. HMAS KANIMBLA and HMS LEANDER in light drizzle on the Brisbane River, Ca. 1941.
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Pic 4473. Another of the HMAS BARCOO grounded pics, April 1948.
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Pic 4490: HMAS QUEENBOROUGH makes a stormy day departure from Sydney, Ca. 1960s.
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Pic 4638. HMAS MELBOURNE at Tamar Basin, Hong Kong just before Typhoon Irma, May 1966.
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Pic 4670. HMAS WESTRALIA [II] and STUART [II] at rainswept HMAS STIRLING dock, WA, 1991.
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Pic 4752. Umbrella farewell for HMAS QUEENBOROUGH bound for Britain, Jan. 1955
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Pic 5076-7 July 1945, HMAS AUSTRALIA [II] on a puddled dock in New York’s Hudson River.
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Pic 5126.Seeking shelter: a scene from the London Victory March, June 8, 1946.
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Pic5256. Frigate HMAS HAWKESBURY under stormy skies in Sydney.
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Pic 5349. HMAS SYDNEY [II] arrives in brisk and breezy Port Melbourne, 1936.
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Pic 5351. HMAS AUSTRALIA [II] and an overcoat, overcast day at Port Melbourne.

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Pic 5352-3. Definitely a brisk day for HMAS AUSTRALIA [II] at Port Melbourne.
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Pic 5404-6. Cloudy arrival at Port Melbourne for HMAS AUSTRALIA [II], CA. 1946.
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Pic 6016-18. Ton Class minesweepers at Tamar Basin HK, Typhoon Irma in vicinity, May 1966.
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Pic 6198: Cross winds and showers sweep HNLMS PIET HEIN in Melbouyrnbe’s Yarra – A.C. Greeen.
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Pic 6201. HNLMS PIET HEIN [ex-HMS SERAPIS] departs Melbournbe under lowering skies, March 1953 – A.C. Green.
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Pic 6202: Another dark view of HNLMS PIET HEIN’s Melbourne departure – A.C. Green.
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PHOTOSTREAM COMPENDIA COMPLETED THUS FAR:

HMAS AUSTRALIA [I] Indefatigable Class battlecruiser; two parts, beginning under Entry 5476, 100 images.

HMAS WARRAMUNGA [I] Tribal Class destroyer: single entry under pic 5470, 50+ images

HMAS ARUNTA [I] Tribal Class destroyer, two parts, under Pic entries 5467-5468, 80+ images

HMAS HOBART [I] Modified Leander Class light cruiser: Two parts, under pic entries 5464-5465, 100+ images

HMAS MELBOURNE [II] Light fleet aircraft carrier: seven parts, under pic entries 5444-5450, 350+ images

HMAS QUEENBOROUGH, ‘Q’ Class or Type 15 fast anti-submarine frigate; Two parts under pic entries 5435,5436, 60+ images.

HMAS ANZAC [II] Battle Class destroyer, Two Parts under pic entries 5429-5430; 60+ images.

HMAS SHROPSHIRE, heavy cruiser: Three Parts under pic entries 5415-5417, 75+ images

HMAS AUSTRALIA [II] heavy cruiser : Three parts under pic entries 5412-5415, 200+ images

BRITISH PACIFIC FLEET IN AUSTRALIA; single entry; under Pic 5365, 50+ images

HMAS BARCOO, WWII River Class frigate, under Pic NO. 6186, 30+ images

HMAS VAMPIRE [II], Daring Class destroyer, three parts beginnging at Pic NO. 5501, 100+ images.

HMAS WATERHEN. WWII ‘Scrap Iron Flotilla’ destroyer, single entry Pic 6266, 20 images. ‘

BOYS AND BATTLESHIPS: COMPENDIUM ESSAY on a 20th Century Romance, under Pic NO. 5488, 20+ images

FOUL WEATHER IN PORT COMPENDIUM – single entry at Pic NO. 6191, 60+ images.

72/365 Elephant
Lower back Tattoos

Image by xadrian
No reason other than I needed a shot for today and I’m running low on ideas. I don’t get out much so I’m stuck doing shots in my house.

For the Thirteen Things Roulette.

1. I have a tattoo of an alien cat person and their baby that I drew. It’s somewhere in my Flickr stream.

2. Two years ago I drew and wrote my own comic book. I haven’t done the second issue yet. It’s suppose to be 6 issues.

3. I’m an excellent dancer.

4. At one point I had green hair.

5. When I was in college I spent a summer as an elf assistant to a natural magician at the Colorado Renaissance Festival. It lasted about two weeks, after that we just roamed around eating and smoking.

6. My favorite drink is a Long Island Iced Tea, but apparently only if they aren’t LIIT from Monkey Bar in Manhattan.

7. I have almost 200 pages of a science fiction book I started somewhere in a filing cabinet or old brief case.

8. I was in show choir in high school, we sang madrigals downtown during Christmas time.

9. I broke my jaw playing soccer in high school. I was keeper and a foreign exchange student who’d never played soccer missed the ball and kicked my face instead. I have a metal plate in my jaw.

10. The most famous person in my family tree is Benedict Arnold.

11. I have 97 space and Star Wars Lego sets dating back to 1987.

12. My first pet was a cat named Penfold.

13. In high school I worked for McDonald’s for the duration of the orientation. I earned .13

Path to Freedom
Lower back Tattoos

Image by Shaojin+AT
Picture: The Escape
Location: Edinburgh Castle, Scotland

Edinburgh Castle is an ancient stronghold which dominates the sky-line of the city of Edinburgh from its position atop Castle Rock. It is Scotland’s second-most-visited tourist attraction.[1] Human habitation of the site is dated back as far as the 9th century BC. As it stands today though, few of the castle’s structures pre-date the Lang Siege of the 16th century, with the notable exception of St Margaret’s Chapel, the oldest surviving building in Edinburgh, which dates from the early 12th century.

Geology
The Castle stands upon the basalt plug of an extinct volcano which is estimated to have risen some 340 million years ago during the lower Carboniferous age. Standing 120 metres (400 ft) above sea level, the Castle Rock is a classic example of a crag and tail formation.
These geological foundations cannot be underestimated in their significance for the subsequent development of the Castle (and indeed the city) and the events which have defined its history. To the south, west and north, the castle is protected by sheer cliffs rearing some 80 metres (260 ft) from the surrounding landscape. This means that the only readily accessible route to the castle lies to the East, where the ridge slopes more gently.
But just as its location has rendered the Castle all but impregnable (it has never been taken by a direct assault against its gates), it has also presented difficulties. Not the least of these is that basalt is an extremely poor aquifer and therefore providing water to the upper ward of the castle in particular has long been problematic. Today this can be inconvenient, as the poor quality of the piped water which is now available in the Palace Block (where the castle’s stewards have their mess room) means that bottled water has to be transported up from the lower ward. Historically, however, the inaccessibility of water was disastrous under siege conditions.

At the top of the Royal Mile, in front of the castle, is a long sloping forecourt known as the Esplanade, originally constructed as a parade ground in 1753. It is upon this Esplanade that the Edinburgh Military Tattoo takes place annually. From the Esplanade may be seen the Half Moon Battery, which is a dominant feature visible in Alexander Nasmyth’s painting. This drum-shaped fortification, completed in 1588 after the Lang Siege, incorporates the ruined remains of the Keep of 1364, known as David’s Tower.

Tourist attraction

A re-enactor portraying James Hepburn, 4th Earl of Bothwell, a husband of Mary Queen of Scots, in the Great Hall
The Castle is now run and administered, for the most part, by Historic Scotland. Historic Scotland is an executive agency of the Scottish Government[50] and undertakes the dual (and sometimes mutually contradictory) tasks of operating the castle as a commercially viable tourist attraction while simultaneously having responsibility for conservation of the site.
Historic Scotland maintain a number of attractions for visitors. There are two cafés/restaurants in the castle, in addition to numerous historical displays. Historic Scotland have an educational centre in the castle which runs events for schools and educational groups, including re-enactors in costume and with period weaponry. There are also a number of re-enactors employed for the general public in portions of the castle such as the Great Hall.

Source from: en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Edinburgh_castle

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