Clarity through a Drop of Water

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Everything in this image is distorted. Everything, but a small circle; the prism of a drop of water hanging from a leaf. I could use this opportunity to make some philosophical statement about the nature of water. How its integrality to life gives focus in an otherwise distorted world. How, in the desert of life, a single drop of water means everything.

But I won't. I will reserve my usual self-important grandiosity for a picture that isn't an interesting optical illusion and nothing more, interesting as it is.

Statuette beside Potted Plant

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This statuette is no longer there. And neither is the plant. I don't know what happened to either; they just disappeared in between the time I last saw them and now. I'm reminded of A Clockwork Orange and Bronson (amongst many others), in which the main characters return home from a stint in prison, only to see that it is not really home. In Alex's case, the room is familiar, but the contents are different; belonging to everyone but him. In Charlie's case, conversely, the room is completely different, and the home has switched cities. Initially, all he wishes for is his old bed, decrepit but familiar. Ultimately, he learns that home is not a bed, but a city, the location in which his formative years occurred. Abandoned by his family and tortured by his friends, Alex finds that home is wherever he will survive.

The attachment to possessions is not, in this sense, driven by materialism, but familiarity and comfort. You depend on them to be there when you need them, to provide you with that sense of ease. It's not that you have own them that counts, but that you have them. And that is why losing them, and your home, is such a profoundly traumatic experience. But, even when you are faced with the terror of unfamiliarity and no way to escape it, you learn to live with it. To find new things to which you can attach your sentiments, new blankets in which to wrap yourself, and new walls within which you can hang your frames. Home becomes where you are.

Pineapple Under Long Exposure

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I hope you enjoyed reading my interview with Danny. I had a tonne of fun conducting it, writing it, and creating the little bits of flair that made up the final article. My only regret is that it only appeared on No. 0 and nowhere else. I would have liked to see it appear on a site that was more dedicated to music, but things didn't go according to plan and I thought, "Screw it, I'm just going to do it myself." I'll be getting to the subject of doing stuff yourself in an article on maize mazes, but the point is that sometimes it's better to stop telling and just start doing. It's always harder, but at least you know where the work is going. I won't be discussing the interview particulars any further, though, because, frankly, it's worth neither your time nor mine. Life goes on, and I'm just glad the interviewee was awesome. Also, the fact that I got Danny Walker on No. 0 makes this blog awesome. If for a moment.

Monochrome Clouds

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With the release of Quantal Quetzal nearly upon us, Canonical has been calling for users' wallpaper submissions.  There are many worthy entries, but at the time of my submission, I felt many, while good-looking, weren't adhering to Ubuntu's wallpaper ethos and contest organiser Iain Farrell's design requests.  Many were too busy, too cluttered, and, frankly, not evocative enough of the simple beauty with which people have begun to view Ubuntu.

So, I decided to throw my hat into the ring with this picture.  I have little faith that it will win.  There are hundreds of submissions, half - let alone ten - of which are more stunning than this one, but I'm still proud to stand by it.  It's powerful, brooding, a perfect complement to the Ambiance theme, and, most of all, it has no goram modifications!

The submission deadline is today, so we'll know which ten pictures will be appearing on Quantal soon.

Young Fern

Finally, finally, I can sit here today and pat myself on the back for a job complete.  This was probably the most frustrating assignment, in terms of conflicting personalities and opinions, I've had in quite some time.  And remarkably, it came right after an editing project that saw me fall unwittingly into a pit of confusion (literally, were the pit made of paper) that dug itself from its own conflicting personalities and opinions, and the nonsense that comes out of multiple minds attempting to write together from (mostly) separate locations.  But, rising from that pit allowed me realise how much I respected all the parties involved, for I saw how special the hierarchy we created was outside of my own frustrations.

All our roles were clearly understood, and, while I felt the daily stress of attempting to create coherence out of jumbled ideas, I was able release that stress because I had the freedom to defer to others on technical matters and take control when I felt it was appropriate - which was, of course, when it came to the English form, itself.  In this way, I managed to unleash my fury on my keyboard, instead of my pale, crumpled fists and fragile hairline, which unfortunately occurred frequently during the latter project.

Drop In

A quick check-in.  I'm still doing what I'm doing, which means there's no time for much but sleeping and eating.  My little sleeping disorder, additionally, hasn't been kind to my circadian rhythms for what seems like a while, now - but the endless white of the red-splotched pages has blinded my sleepy eyes to all but the blackest of blurs.  Having solved the largest puzzle of No. 0's new design, the changes will be coming soon, and after that, a number of written features that will be sure to interest those of you who are inclined to be interested in the things that will be interesting you.

Life is moving so fast, now, that the spots passing by have morphed into lines.  Will engage warp drive soon.

High-Sticked

Full size.  On Flickr.

Two for high-sticking! So, the right side of my face is feeling rather puffy, this morning, and that's because a careless fellow hockey player slashed me in the face.  Accompanied by the realisation that this must be my dumbest (in the sense that I shouldn't be doing it if I value my health) hobby, I've become used to the varying amount of pain that comes with playing hockey regularly.  I've bruised most of my body parts, already, and bled significantly from both my hand and my chin. 

Nevertheless, this particular incident was rather amusing.  Before getting hit, my play was lacklustre.  I was just missing "it".  But after shaking off the minor pain, I suddenly woke up.  I started out-skating, out-deking, and out-working (particularly on defence) everyone.  By the end, I'd scored two goals and denied plenty more.

Of course, by then, my middling play was too embarrassing to overcome, but it was quite a feeling to get whacked in the face, and not only shrug it off, but play better and more confidently than at any point in the game before.  I made good use of those two minutes.

Young Fern Under Long Exposure

Full size.  On Flickr.

I was originally planning on spending today's post discussing design, but then I learned of the news that Sage Stallone has died.  It is not an exaggeration when I say that I had been thinking about him around the time of his death.  I had been telling someone of this burgeoning filmmaker who just happened to be more famous for being the son of Sylvester Stallone.  It's a shame that, for malicious or benign reason, we will never see the ripened fruits of this young man's career.  

Sage died much too young.  I just hope his spirit passed peacefully.

Burning Wood

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For the past few weeks, I've been playing the role of a copy-editor.  As easy as it sounds to sit on your behind and stare at your computer screen for hours, periodically stopping to delete one thing and add another, it's not fun work.  The people that come to me for help are generally, I'll be frank, in uninteresting fields, and not particularly adept when it comes to the grit of the English language.

One thinks, deliriously, of how ridiculous it is that someone actually wants to pay them just to read and make the odd change, but after the first page, the realisation of how slow a grind the process will be sinks in like a dagger in one of the meatier parts of your body.  The strange mistakes people make, tossed in with the unrelenting obvious ones, drive you insane, word by word.  I don't know what it is like for those who do this everyday, but I wonder how many are also prone to biting their fist and squeezing their skull when they're in the middle of a battle against numbing boredom on the one side, and on the other, the tendency of the inanities of commas and articles to make one question the very meaning of life.

It's a deceptive art.  Less sapping than writing itself, but more technical and depressing.  But then, never say no to taking an alternate route toward improving yourself, especially when there is, on the face of it, easy money involved.

In honour of Your Humble Freelancer's current project, today's image wasn't taken not by me, but H.C.B.

A Found Branch and its Leaves

A story about this stick with leaves growing out of it:

You may recall that I have some skill with plants.  I'm not particularly observant of it; neither do I pay any overwhelming amount of attention to the plants under my care (although, I do maintain a long-standing feud with those dirty, plant-killing vegetarians).  They just seem to thrive, for whatever reason, and I can't resist picking up reclamation projects for that purpose.

This branch belonged to one of the hedges you find running along the front of many English houses.  Someone had trimmed theirs, when I found it on the ground, lopped off with just a few leaves attached to it.  I don't know what compelled it, but my immediate next thought was to take it and stick it in the soil, next to one of my other plants.  Everyone told me I was a dumbass for thinking I could just put random branches in a pot and expect them to grow - and, really, I didn't; I'm just a hoarder - but, what do you know, it did.  Slowly, its few leaves extended into branches, themselves, that, in turn, bore their own leaves.

As always, life finds a way.

Red Sunset

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Just as a sunset marks the transition from day to night, this image marks my own transition in life.  I look upon this sunset with a tinge of sadness and nostalgia, because I won't ever be where I was before it, no matter how hard I try.

Even though we may be happy where we are, a part of us always looks back.  We wish for the momentary naïveté of our former selves and brief glimpses of people for whom we spare mere minutes of thought.  I have been back to the location whence I took this photograph, in the hope of returning to where I was when I took it.  Unfortunately, it has been a futile exercise in recreating the life of a man I no longer know.

Window Over Red Sunset

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I like this picture.  The amount of blur in the background brings out the clarity of the foreground - more specifically, the various bits of dirt on the window, as well as little water droplets.  Despite needing to be cleaned (don't look at me, because this isn't my window), the window is actually quite clear, so all of these things look like they're floating.

I could also point out the vignetting, but that will feature in the next image.

White Mallard with Dark Splotches

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I have a story about this duck, or, more specifically, about ducks in general.  But to understand it, one requires a back story, so it will have to wait for another time and another duck.

What I will say now, as it is unrelated to this story, is that I don't recall seeing a white mallard since photographing this one.  My friend, who is more knowledgeable than me when it comes to these matters, says it is simply a young one (as evidenced by the fury head), but the fact that it was as large as (if not larger than) the other nearby ducks gives me pause.  At the very least, it must have been a rather oversized youngling.

In any case, from the violet stript on its side, we can haphazardly assume that it is a female.

Ladybird on Green Leaf

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For those who care, you can now find me on Bandcamp.  There are only two albums on there, so far, Information Theory and THE WINDOW, but I'll have the other two up soon.  There is no real need for you to check it out, really, when you're perfectly satisfied with mp3s as your music files of choice, because I will continue to provide my albums for free in the mp3 format.  The reason for Bandcamp, then, is because I've decided to follow the model podcasters like Dan Carlin and Marc Maron use, which is to give you all the basic content for free, while layering bonuses that will interest those you want more.

Most people are happy with mp3s, and so will feel little need to purchase something they can receive for free, but if you want the songs in, say, FLAC, you will be able to purchase them in that format.  None of the albums will be expensive, and a very small minority (I estimate less than five people, maybe six, if I'm lucky) will actually want to pay for them, but it's something.  At least it will create the illusion that I'm not just some kid doing this on a whim, who has no idea what he's doing.  And that's the second and larger reason I'm doing this: to increase exposure.  (It came to my attention, recently, that some people - *cough*youknowwhoyouare*cough* - don't know that this is actually my music, so I need to do a better job of communicating that.)

And, finally, a refresher: I'm also on Last.fm. 

Looking up through Hole in Forest

Amidst towering trees, before water,

I look through a hole in a forest.

That hole is a small lake,

The forest, itself, amidst its city.

Through life, the self-perception exists,

From moment to moment; governed as,

It will govern: amidst.

There is no absolute; my hold wanes.

Yesterday, we, I, was to be one,

Tomorrow, we, you are to be too,

Only, the moment speaks:

Soar, we fall; win, we lose; fail, we soar.

 Amidst thoughts, I feel my body move,

Amidst them, I see the illusion,

Amidst the leaves, sky, clouds,

I hear the wind: time for me to change.

Fried Chicken, Onion, and Bell Pepper

Yes, it's slightly burnt.  I'd pretend I intended to burn it, but, really, slightly burning things is an unavoidable trademark of my cooking.  I never feel comfortable enough until I see a little black in the food.  In any case, this meal was spicy, hot, and delicious - which is what counts.

Also, holy levitating pieces of meat, Batman:

Darkening Skies, One, Two, & Three

My girlfriend jokes that a sure-fire way to identify a bad photograph is hear someone say it would make a great black metal cover, for the images that adorn the album covers of many post- or experimental- or atmospheric- or [insert other adjective]-black metal bands tend to be underexposed, out of focus, and monotonous (in the grey sense).  So much so, that it's a cliché within the genre.

And, with that, I would like to present to you, today, a trio of images perfect for your next post- or experimental- or atmospheric- or [insert other adjective]-black metal album!  Sure, they're a little bluer than usual, but you can just take a photoshop to that.  Just look at how moody they look!  Listeners will be itching to pick up your album when they see your logo pasted over these horrifically, diabolically magnificent images!

Failing that, I'm sure there are some budding post-metal bands looking for more cloud pictures...

Dead Bee on White

Full size.  On Flickr.

I can explain my recent absence: I'm currently writing an article on how superficial bickering contributed to the decline of one ancient state, and will do the same to a modern one.  It should be up soon... or eventually, anyway.

Hilltop Road

It's been a while since I released Information Theory, my last album.  And after that brief burst of prolific activity, that "while" feels like an eternity.  But fear not, between writing and other abstractions, I am still working on new music.  The next release, titled An Incomplete Vision in the Projects page, was started in late-2010, and, while perhaps not receiving the same effort as some previous albums, certainly has taken up much more time.  In terms of detail, it will have more packed in than any previous one as well, by far, and putting it all together (remember those four words) in a way that makes sense is what's taking up most of my time.

It's a long road, but the journey, like every previous one, is unique enough that even with my preconceived ideas, I don't know exactly where it's headed.  Will the end will be worth the distance? At least we know it will be different.

Green Leaves Above

I like the venation of these leaves, and how the light shines through them, as well as how the lightened edges make them stick out from the background.  But, really, the only reason I'm posting this one is the fact that I like the idea of seeing those leaves over my head.  Although we can see that some creatures have already dug in for a lunch or two, these leaves still look healthy, in the organic sense.  Protective green: the huts of our ancestors.