Category Archives: Are Aliens Real

Subject: SECRETS OF ALIEN FACES IN THE NIGHT and NIGHT LIGHT GAMES REAL ILLUSION #27

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Subject: SECRETS OF ALIEN FACES IN THE NIGHT and NIGHT LIGHT GAMES REAL ILLUSION #27
are aliens real
Image by aerostockians1scaf.sofact
>Photo file #____ Photo title_____ Photo description_____.
1177-1577/001-002-003-004-009-032 >Recently some one mistakenly assumed themselves to an Imagery Expert , a highly trained professional in interpreting photos. This person declared that since it was raining the night I took these photos, that it could have been the rain producing those circles because the rain and the snow are known to produce such circles and bugs are known to produce the other light images in my photos.
>Well one can see the rain drops in my photos and they are barely noticeable and definitely do not produce round circles having faces inside, or are snow flakes round or produce round images having faces inside.
>I have lots of photos of these night circles when the sky is clear. I wonder how this person explains away my Real Illusion #27, circles night game.
>Well all in all…the night circles are also day circles. Like I stated before the aeros keep constant track of me, so they get up into the trees over looking my house and stay there until night, at which time they going flying and at which time I can take all the photos I like. I have clear photos of these night circles positioned all over my lot and at ground level; however I do not publish them because the photos would reveal too much information on the location of my property. Also very important is the fact that I have clear photos of these circles as they appear in the day.
>Well review the attached photos of the trees over looking my house and you will see hundreds of aerostockians starring down at me. These are those who you see as night circles. Zoom in on the photos of night circles and you will find the same ugly faces you are seeing in the trees here.
>You might notice that the rain is running off the circles and not passing through the circles. This is further proof that the aeros are not spirits but are tangible, touchable beings. No important how large or bright-white a circle is formed; one can not see a circle with the naked eye. Even normal daylight will not expose the presence of a circle. Only an INSTANT BRIGHT FLASH (on/off again) will expose their presence.
So as you might somewhat reason from photo number 1177-1596/002 (section of huge white circle); a huge “mother space ship” could hover a few feet from you, and you would not hear or see anything. Their capability to perform this act, alone makes them “aliens” above our technology. I estimate the huge space ship (circle) was only 10-15 feet overhead above my position. So again I submit to you that these circles are nothing other than “Intergalactic Star Ships” adjustable to both time and space.

Flying Dog
are aliens real
Image by Wiiilmaa
The real flying dog for kerri.o… All pictures were taken on two days, and there were 11 more with only one paw on the floor. Gravity seemed to be quite low theese days

My Escape.

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My Escape.
are aliens real
Image by Romeo66
As a boy, I flew away to distant planets and fought the aliens in my mind . Up there I was the strong, brave Flash Gordon. I escaped the real world, if only for a few minutes. Then it was back down to Earth. BUMP!

sengoku (my old pet iguana)
are aliens real
Image by LHG Creative Photography
He got to 23 years old and about 6ft 3 inches, and was undoubtedly one of the longest lived and largest green iguanas ever seen in britain.

His early life was a massive struggle, he was bought in newport gwent from a filthy and tiny cage where he sufferred with maybe 40 other iguanas, I could only save one, so it was he that I chose, the one with greatest chance of survival.

He was anorexic for two years despite my giving him all I could, importing uv lights years before most people used them, the vivaria was thermostatically controlled and always perfectly regulated for temperature, even with seasonal values, and humidity, and basking was always available, I even had different fittings in similar locations so he could still control his temperature at night without even waking up. I even tested the thermodynamics of his viv to ensure the gradient was correct and that the ventilation was sufficient. I used vitamins,a balanced mixture of 3 different makes with extra individual components to balance them for different ages and biological states. I helped him heal from injuries, cure and recover from metabolic bone disease, salmonellosis, cryptosporidia, and protozoan ailments , stomatitis of the mouth, and premature antipericular gout, treated his skin for fungus, even cured an infection of the vent and hemipenis, and more unusaually still, a major imbalance of the lacrymal gland which meant he excessively sneezed salt and knackered his own ability to retain fluids. For two years it was totally touch and go , always another problem just because he had been imported badly . I bought some very expensive aloe based moisturisers for two years to keep his cracking skin supple and keep repeat fungal infections away. The bills hit quadruple figures in two years and thats even with me be able to do most of the medical aid myself and saving on labour costs and many veterinary price markups on drugs. After 2 years of ownership he sloughed perfectly every time from being given to me with the skin consistancy of lumpy porridge with cysts and severe symptoms of MBD, 18 months into ownership, after force feeds, and nearly dying on me he regained the will to live, and never looked back.

For the best part of 20 years his scales were glassy smooth, soft because he never scarred, but hard as stones, and from aloe massages to baths he was in such condition that even his neck studs were razor sharp and perfect, his sloughed skin parted in whole perfect sheets and quickly, his nails were hard as iron. A rotting swollen mouth was replaced by perfectly flush fit lips, strong teeth, his nosetip grew back, and I discovered he even had three nose horns. His jaw and subtympanic scale was so large I have never seen bigger. His bone structure was so good he had a flexibility in muscular movement I have never seen outside of a wild iguana, he could seriously bloody jump, five feet straight up, nearly 8 feet along, and when he ran, he could run as fast as me on his back legs,and swim much better, casually, effortlessly. He could crush up or stretch out like a cat, he didnt have the stilted stumbling movement I see in most captive iguanas, he moved with precision.

His bite power was transformed from risking a jaw break with a nip on a bit of cucumber to a bite that split a broom handle in half and even chomped through whole carrots, ripped into butternut squashes and chomped down whole bananas and could handle the toughest leaves. I would make him balanced daily meals of up to 22 different fruits vegetables and leaves, plus commercial formulas. I used supplementation from the beginning. It was the predatory temptations of locusts, waxworms and mealworms that finally broke his post trauma anorexia, and I had to work very hard indeed to up his vegetable intake. A year later though he was taking a 95% veggie diet happily, but I couldnt ever overestimate how much work that took. Tricks like stuffing a bit of romaine or banana in his face when he went to grab a locust so that he would get a taste for it , get used to eating it again. That cracked, he doubled in size vitually every year until he hit 6 foot.

In his life he had loads of freedoms, physically I almost never restrained him unless he was a bit territorial through spring and likely to bite people (no small thing a bite from an adult iguana – with his bite power and strong skeleton and well exercised muscles a square bite to your hand would break every bone in it, and leave you with fleshwounds like someone had a go at you with a hacksaw) and eventually our relationship grew and I do genuinely think we finally became friends, or at least achieved a retained mutual respect , the "I live, I am here, and I command my life" thing was mutually understood and appreciated. Sure we fought, but it was 99 times out of 100 ritualised, and he was testing me, and sometimes I picked up the game and tested him back. We found an accomodation of ego.

Somehow it seemed humanity was finally forgiven for the wrongs they inflicted upon him, for we had done him much wrong collectively, we sent some peasant out to capture him for pennies, we demanded perhaps unwittingly, that he be loaded into a crate together with other panicking members of his brethren, teeth claws, whipping tails and all, unfed , unwatered, covered in shite, denied the sunlight they love and need to live, put for endless days in transport, by truck, by boat, by plane, then loaded into dealers and warehouses alien environments, then finally to petshops where snotty nosed kids gawp and bang on glass. For an animal, surely even being eaten is less sufferring by a magnitude of many times.

Those days over, he would run to me, climb my arm willingly take food from me, even scout the fridge, he got in the shower with me, we went across fields and climbed trees together in the warmth of summer.We watched birds and people come and go and I knew that he felt alive when so many others in captivity did not. It pleased me because of what I was able to achieve for him, but I felt a deep shame towards my own race treating others of his species so very badly.

Somehow though, despite my doing all I could, it doesnt make the days of his capture ok , it was from me the best apology I could manage once I realised about the realities of the pet trade. I was young when I bought him, perhaps naive, because in the sale price of that single iguana I justified in one moment the torture the others went through, because I just paid the air fare of more of them. Now of course, I never would encourage the trade, though it is still so very hard to tear yourself away from an animal that you can save for the sake of a couple of hundred quid or much less. If we don’t agree to such trades though, the only way to stop them is starve them of cash, and make sure others do the same.

If theres one message Sengoku could give to you through me- its that. Lizard and reptile though he was and so alien to many, it is noneletheless the voice of one of the best friends and animal teachers in my life speaking , and I want you to listen.

He bit me a few times, and once nearly managed to remove my thumb, but to this day I still miss his head bobbing communications every morning, the way he would be part of my routine bumming around the house, watching TV (he had a thing for golf maybe just liked the green on the screen) and eating the houseplants (loved christmas cacti). I used to collect dandelions and hibiscus flowers for him the works.

His skeleton was one day taken in an x-ray, and he is the model for skeletal perfection used by vets to this day. He sired 60 sons and daughters, and taught me a new way of seeing and of appreciating animal kind and nature, a less human kind of appreciation where egos are left at the door and what you want yourself becomes less important.

I liked his uncompromising nature, but as a 30 pound adult iguana he would sit on me and we would sunbathe together and the level of communication was staggerring. From coming to me when I called him, to pointing out things in the view from windows to each other, head bobbing expressions of mood to each other,using eye communication to reassure from along the length of a room, to make and exchange judgements about people and situations, taking clues from me about whether to be calm or aggressive, relaxed or cautious, indicating where and when he wanted to go places, what he wanted to eat when he wanted to eat, the works.

I couldnt give him freedom but I gave him his reign unsubdued, his male ego was fundamental to him, to suboordinate it would have been unforgivable, and I think we learned mutual respect, and thats a much better fate than that which awaited most iguanas in this country who live in fear, and die from nutritional ailments, poor funding commitment, denial of sunlight, and temperature induced ill-health and the consequences of abnormal behavior caused by the stereotypical symptoms of fear and boredom from living in tiny boxes, and finally the biggest factor of all, one that pertains to all the other factors, that most people do not relate to reptiles properly and cannot see their needs in a timely and pre-emptive enough way with compassion enough to stand back and give them the space necessary for a successful life without a smothering love that is not real compassion. To provide without hope of reward, to give things grace.

He was finally balanced psychologically even when under natural sunlight, and he showed me that there is more to life than domestication. Not fleeing, but still going where he damn well liked. He also taught me not to underestimate the intelligence of a reptile. While his personality saw most of the emotional states that mammalian colonial animals have irrelevant, he was extremely intelligent. I wouldnt have put him far off an african grey parrot for smarts.

By far the biggest bugger about owning him was giving him sufficient vent for his incredibly high sex drive. Iguana courtship is violent as hell, he and his mating partner injured each other a few times, leaving me needing to perform stitches in one case, and introductions had to be carefully monitored. The eventual solution came in the form of a stuffed toy crocodile, and he used to ask for it when horny, drag it off and rape the crap out of it (well it was either that or the cushions on the sofa copped for it- or worse still, my arm!). Used to have to go and spray water on his bits cos he used to get stuck to it like a kid with his tongue stuck ion a freezer door.lol. They don’t tell you that bit in the manual.

What he showed me wasnt domestication, it was intelligent adaptation to circumstances. He was a reptilian genius who had all the initial fear to be anything but, that he overcame this, showed trust and an iron will, was to his immense credit as a species and as an individual, and he showed that while I had to fight hard for his life, he was still an example of natures perfection. I would rather he was a king of his time in the wild, for surely he had that potential, but I could never take him back to guatemala, (surely a loss for him and the iguana population of guatemala, he would have beena fine breeding male contributing to the survival of the species), the place he had been so foolishly ripped from, but I gave him all I could, and in return he taught me things most humans will never know.

It felt like being kings together, equals. He taught me about not only the nature of iguanas but about myself in response to them.

Even now after his death, I can walk past an iguana in a zoo, and ask them through bobbing language how they are, announce who I am , and even though their eyes are jaded from millions of chavvy onlookers they still respond to me. I never fail to feel the weight of that priviledge.Unfortunately its not human sentimentality that allows me to see that the first wish most of them express is that they would like to come to me and to be free, as if I could help them. It shames me that I can’t for I know in our lousy climate they will die outside their cages, and I would never harm our native environs by releasing one here. I wonder if perhaps I saw one caged in its own country if I would walk by, or perhaps just rip that damned cage open. I think I probably would rip it apart.

Even a gift given from a reptile can be a truly special thing.

I would never take back the time I had with him, but for the sake of his sufferring brethren , I hope never to see this species in a petshop again. Just too big, in nature they dominate a territory the size of a football pitch a totally three dimensional space, and they rule from the highest canopies, this species needs to be free. Its written in their nature, and to be mentally as exceptional as sengoku was is rare. Those not as strong willed and intelligent as he, those who have owners without an ounce of accurate empathic response and the willingness to become a bit reptilian will only ever suffer.

He died in his sleep, in a seasonal brumation period (yep thats right I even read local guatemalan daylight reports and gave him those hours and relative cool periods) from renal failure aged 23 years old (at least). He went to bed one evening at lights off, looking noticeably older than usual and never woke the following day,he died looking like a statue on his tree branch, all six foot of him in his arrogant and kingly pose stiff as a board, even in death he never reliquished his crown, or his authority. I, unlike so many others could never and would never have taken that authority from him. We reached an accomodation, he was never suboordinate to me mentally, and I would never have insisted he be so, this was no dog to be trained, you have to be so much more subtle than that. There are times when neither you nor they can deny what they are and the way it makes them act, and there are solutions other than dominance and sublimination of character. Sometimes its just impractical to fight those raging hormones. Found another old pic which nicely demonstrates that.

www.flickr.com/photos/16180154@N07/4091360934/

In life, even though it was a captive life, he was ultimately triumphant.

On a final note, if I have made iguana ownership seem prosiac or desireable, I should counter by saying that in every aspect of his life, Sengoku was hard work to help find a balance, he was at times physically dangerous, I copped for huge vet bills over the years, and in total I estimate he cost me through accomodation, feeding , heating and various other potions at least £1200 a year average to keep, a lifetime investment probably breaking the £25000 mark, his purchase price of around a £75 was as cheap as anything ever got, and the gifts of comminication and companionship he gave me didnt even begin to emerge for perhaps 5 or 6 years and they had to be consistantly worked at.

At his peak years of dominance he could be hell on wheels, and though I handled him fairly easily, I should also point out that I used to scruff badgers, deadly snakes, insects, handle dangerous dogs, catch deer with my bare hands and Sengoku still rated as one of the most formidable of them when he was in a mood. This is not an animal a layman will cope with well. A fit healthy fully adult green iguana is four times stronger than your average sick one in your average british home, he was muscle and persistance itself and could be genuinely vicious.

This is not a quick fix pet for child or adult. It isnt really a pet, and the smallest size I would recommend for housing one is basically the same size as a family lounge at least, basically a tropical house, not a vivarium in the conventional sense, and I say that hand on heart to stop others making the mistakes he and I made while learning, for I had to work most of this stuff out for myself. 20 years ago outside of the states good literature on this sort of stuff was just non-existant. Now we have to stop each other endlessly repeating mistakes.

I hope the sort of people that declaw cats and chop the balls of of everything, who carry small dogs in handbags, put fish in tiny bowls, who keep hamsters in sweaty little plastic pods, and those who leave their dogs alone all day and don’t walk them or work with them socially, those who put intelligent lizards and tortoises in tiny vivs, and snakes in tubs realize really just how damned far they are off the mark now. Whatever you read, whatever you know, from magazines to books and even scientific literature, exceed the minimum standards by as much as you can, and for gods sake choose your species wisely.

If you havent read anything at all, well just don’t go for it, because not only will you make mistakes but you could buy an animal totally unsuited to captivity, and never see what a sufferance its life can become.

There are lots of animal owners, an animal lover is an entirely different thing.

My most enduring memory of him will always be the day I was lying on my bed asleep to find myself awake with a warm sunbeam coming in from the window, and a warm 6 foot lizard on my chest with his face 6 inches from mine. I forgot to shut his enclosure properly, and being smart and dextrous he probably just used his claw like a human hand and slid the door open as I had seen him do many times before. I was probably overworked at the time, it wasn’t like me to forget the lock, but he wasnt being aggressive, in fact, given his weight and his razor claws he must climbed up and settled down on me very gently not to wake me, without doubt he didnt wish to disturb me. He could have been there already over an hour for all I knew but he seemed completely calm, just perhaps wanted to be close to something else living. He gave me a head bob as soon as he saw I was awake the "hi dude " sign. I gave a half bob back a sleepy kind of "yo", and yawned, he yawned back. The universal language for "lets just have a kip". He settled his chin into the base of my neck, I nodded off again and so did he, both happy in our sunbeam on a sleepy day, my hand on his tail and he not objecting, It was the day of complete trust when two powerful creatures who had not one reason to get on, or trust, decided that they would anyway. All fears of past and all ego settled, just friends enjoying a sleep in the sunshine.

To you my good buddy. Rest well.

www.flickr.com/photos/16180154@N07/4091361514/

Shapolsky @ the whitney
are aliens real
Image by DayDreamPilot
This kind of ‘Information Art’, I just don’t get! This exhibit is called "Shapolsky et al Manhattan Real Estate Holdings."…etc from 1971. It was first prepared for the Guggenheim museum in the 70’s, but was rejected by director Thomas Messer, who deemed it ‘inappropriate’ and said it was ‘an alien substance that has entered the art museum organism’. ha! i agree. I mean, a bunch of pages which were gathered from the city archives… are framed and put on museum walls, this is suppose to be art? what do you think.

Dr Jesse Marcel Jr who claimed to have handled alien debris from Roswell

Dr Jesse Marcel Jr who claimed to have handled alien debris from Roswell
… lot of wasted space out there,"' Denice Marcel said. 'He wasn't the first one to say this, but he did believe it. He also believed that everyone needed to know the truth, and that the Roswell Incident was a real event and that it was time for the …
Read more on Daily Mail

'Little Green Men' festival celebrates 1955 alien invasion
A farm family's gun battle nearly 60 years ago with Little Green Men — purported alien invaders — is being celebrated this weekend by hundreds gathered in rural Kentucky near a replica of their flying saucer. At the Little … “If it's real in their …
Read more on Toronto Star

Adventures of the lost glove

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Adventures of the lost glove
are aliens real
Image by runran
The trip started from my home in Nanaimo, BC – a burg just a little too big to be a pleasant place to live, with more malls spread along the highway than can really be needed, as if shopping is the only creative outlet for the 80 thousand or so souls who call the city home. Nanaimo’s downtown has been a ghost town for ages, with very few shops of note and a nightlife that includes junkies and slobbering drunks. To be honest, the well-heeled folk are better off venturing no further from suburbia than the closest mall.

Strangely, as vendors of clothing and accessories, Nanaimo has never cottoned to our style. We don’t sell the common brands that fuel box stores, preferring instead to flog handcrafted hats and bags and clothing, some imports and vintage. We set up our tent at street markets and music festivals in spring, summer and fall. In the winter months we set up booths at universities and colleges across Western Canada. The most recent trip took us as far as the prairie jewel, Saskatoon. Even at –30, the warm heart of the place was notable.

These journeys would provide rich material for any freelance journalist or photographer. The themes could be various. Why are so many Korean Christians working in the motel industry? Why do so many men who stay in motels dream of a better life? Why do motels persist in faking domestic environments? What do we feed our students? University and college food courts vary wildly, from the wonderful dhal at UVic’s International Grill, to the drab and damn-near poison offered by some food services. Which student body is the most stylish? The most addicted to mobile devices? The drunkest? There are endless slants on which to hook an article. But I rarely write freelance anymore. I blame my computer – just when a good idea crops up, I find a wireless connection and vanish into cyberspace.

Still, this last trip was remarkable enough to write a blog post and upload some altered snaps. There is also a particularly splendid experience that insists upon proper comment – all about manners. I know it’s not fair to say that one student body is on the whole kinder than another. But the students in Regina and Saskatoon are better mannered than any I’ve come across – particularly in Saskatoon. As an example, let me tell you about my wounded hand and a lost glove.

I will get to the wound. First, let me tell you about my gloves. They are expensive, made for construction workers who want both protection and flexibility. They are snug and well padded. I bought them because of a skin condition that’s exacerbated by my work. I constantly handle metal clothes’ hangers and plastic bags and get rashes so bad that my partner has dubbed me the lizard boy. The rashes are painful and often lead to cracked skin and raw patches. The gloves protect me from rashes, and her not-always-funny taunts.

Just before leaving for the prairies, while loading the van, I misplaced my left glove. It was a real mystery. I looked everywhere. But it simply vanished, and I had to make do with inferior gloves. The highway from Blue River to Jasper was covered in thick-packed snow and ice. From Jasper to Edmonton the road was two lanes of dirty slush, kicked into mini-storms by every passing 4 X 4 and semi-trailer truck. Somewhere along the route – maybe a spider bite in the Blue River Motel, or while checking the chains on the rear wheels of the van – I scrapped the edge of my left hand. Uncharacteristically, I wasn’t wearing gloves.

Within two days my left hand had swollen to twice it’s size and a nasty pit of pus developed, requiring minor surgery. The operation took place in the emergency ward of the Grey Nuns Hospital in Edmonton – two Mash-like tents erected in the ambulance bay (the place was under renovation). It was there I met a stranger who remembered me from 40 years back, and she remembered that my last name was once King. I lost track of her after the curtain was pulled and the emergency-ward doctor drained the wound, spooned out the last bit pf pus, and stuck packing in the hole.

Next came an IV drip – three times daily for five days. Fortunately, my partner Joann and I were staying at my mother’s condo, a mere 10 blocks from the hospital. Infection is a great social equalizer – rich and poor in the same room, each hoping that the cool liquid dripping slowly into our veins will rid the alien swelling. The night nurse was a real treat, an ex go-go dancer, lively, efficient and charming. The nervous banter was almost worth the price of admission to her IV unit.

All this happened while I helped my partner with our business. I unloaded and loaded gear, assisted with the set up of a trade show booth, and wrote a grant application. Both hands were wrapped in thick layers of gauze. The dressing on the wound was changed daily, and the IV gear in my other hand was awkward to say the least. The needle pinched. I needed help to bathe.

“Will you bathe me?” I asked my partner. “Or do I have to ask my mother?”

“I could watch,” she quipped. “But that’s just sick.”

My mother laughed. “That’s for sure.”

After the dressings came off, I used wide bandages on my left hand, wrapped from palm to knuckle. Then came a week of antibiotic pills and a trip to Calgary where we stayed in a motel and worked two campuses. I sprayed disinfectant on the light switches and doorknobs and water taps. I cleansed the wound religiously and watched it heal. The weather was seasonably uncertain. Some freezing rain, some snow. I used my backup wool gloves.

After Calgary my partner flew home to Nanaimo and I continued to Saskatoon and booked into the College Drive Lodge – where there’s enough material for a mini-series, complete with a body that never got buried, a madwoman returned to sanity, and an unsettling suicide. The lodge faces a busy, divided roadway. Across stands the cancer hospital and, two blocks further east, the University of Saskatchewan. The first morning was –30 C with a stiff breeze. I unloaded in the university parking lot, hauled the rolling racks of clothing and dolly loads of goods and infrastructure down a hallway, an elevator, and a further 50 feet to the tunnel entrance of the Place Riel Student Centre. It took four trips to unload everything.

My hand throbbed and burned – low-grade pain, still healing. I was on my second to last load, passing the staircase, when I spied the glove. It was on the cement ledge at the bottom of the stairs – my lost left-handed glove. The way I figure: it got snagged on a hanger while loading the van in Nanaimo, three weeks previous, and came loose while unloading in Saskatoon. Some kind soul found the glove and placed it on the ledge. I still had the right-handed glove, too. I was whole again. Symbolically, at least.

There’s more to the journey, of course. But nothing that compares to the moment when I found the glove. The experience continues to affirm my fondness for Saskatoon, and the warm heart of the prairies. I’m back home in Nanaimo, writing this with my wound still bandaged – just an ordinary strip. Yesterday I used the gloves to prune some trees in the backyard and ripped a hole in one of them. They’ve served me more than well. I will get a new pair. I know exactly which mall along the long strip in town to shop for them.

My 25 Most Influencial Games
are aliens real
Image by Michael Heilemann
I’ve been doing a lot of research on my past gaming experiences in relation to a series of blog articles I’ve been writing lately.

Today I decided that it would be a good idea to gather all of the games that have influenced me the most and print them out as a poster for my office wall.

After printing it out I took it around and questioned some of my work mates on their gaming history; no one got all of them, can you?

Comments go here or in the entry on Binary Bonsai Also available at a slightly larger resolution.

The Mysterious Moraki Boulders
are aliens real
Image by hdrapprentice
From Trey Ratcliff:

www.flickr.com/photos/stuckincustoms/4627058820/in/set-72…

Daily Photo – The Mysterious Moeraki Boulders
These are some of the most mysterious and alien structures I have ever seen!

Yesterday I remarked that I had a major in computer science. Well, for a short time, I had a double-major in comp sci and Geophysics. I got pretty deep into it until I had a fight with a Geology teacher over an intellectual matter (he was wrong and still is), and I dropped that half of the major. Anyway, it never dulled my interest in rocks and Earth science. So, when I saw these strange round rocks for the first time, I was extra-fascinated. Not that I had any idea what they were. My years of geology training did me no good at all… I think it was even more frustrating because I knew all the things they could not be. The remaining possibilities just seemed off-the-chart impossible.

And worse, I didn’t have a mobile connection to Wikipedia to help me figure it all out with my iPhone-tricorder!

After I got back, I was able to figure out a bit more of the arcane science around it all. Even more interesting, I read that 12 miles south of this spot is another are called the "Katki Boulders". They contain the bones of mosasaurs and plesiosaurs. Cool!

The Great Richard MacManus of the Great New Zealand
In the last two months, I’ve gotten to meet two great Kiwis: Richard MacManus (founder of ReadWriteWeb), and Ray Furgeson (NZ Ambassador to the US). John P, who put up the video of my art yesterday, set up a dinner down in Austin during SXSW with me, Richard MacManus, Elyssa Pallai, Cali Lewis, Sean Ammirati. We ate at the famous Oasis here in Austin and saw a beautiful sunset. John gave us all a secret look at some sweet new features of Woopra before we bloated ourselves on Mexican food. It was great!

I also was very happy to find out more about Richard, his background, and more about the way he thinks about things. I’ve always been a fan of ReadWriteWeb, and even went out to their "Real Time Web" conference last year. I hope I didn’t bore Richard and Elyssa by talking about my plans to move my family and StuckInCustoms.com to New Zealand… but I just get quite excited about their country. Maybe with today’s photo of the strange spherical boulders, you’ll see why.

If you want to find out more about what it looks like there, just click the New Zealand category here on the site!

The Six of us at Dinner at the Oasis. BTW, I’m the one in the glasses.

New Tweetboard Widget
I added a new Tweetboard widget there on the left. It’s a quick way for you to check in on the latest tweets and conversations on Twitter. I am at twitter.com/TreyRatcliff.

from the blog www.stuckincustoms.com

The Mysterious Moraki Boulders

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The Mysterious Moraki Boulders
are aliens real
Image by hdrapprentice
From Trey Ratcliff:

www.flickr.com/photos/stuckincustoms/4627058820/

Daily Photo – The Mysterious Moeraki Boulders
These are some of the most mysterious and alien structures I have ever seen!

Yesterday I remarked that I had a major in computer science. Well, for a short time, I had a double-major in comp sci and Geophysics. I got pretty deep into it until I had a fight with a Geology teacher over an intellectual matter (he was wrong and still is), and I dropped that half of the major. Anyway, it never dulled my interest in rocks and Earth science. So, when I saw these strange round rocks for the first time, I was extra-fascinated. Not that I had any idea what they were. My years of geology training did me no good at all… I think it was even more frustrating because I knew all the things they could not be. The remaining possibilities just seemed off-the-chart impossible.

And worse, I didn’t have a mobile connection to Wikipedia to help me figure it all out with my iPhone-tricorder!

After I got back, I was able to figure out a bit more of the arcane science around it all. Even more interesting, I read that 12 miles south of this spot is another are called the "Katki Boulders". They contain the bones of mosasaurs and plesiosaurs. Cool!

The Great Richard MacManus of the Great New Zealand
In the last two months, I’ve gotten to meet two great Kiwis: Richard MacManus (founder of ReadWriteWeb), and Ray Furgeson (NZ Ambassador to the US). John P, who put up the video of my art yesterday, set up a dinner down in Austin during SXSW with me, Richard MacManus, Elyssa Pallai, Cali Lewis, Sean Ammirati. We ate at the famous Oasis here in Austin and saw a beautiful sunset. John gave us all a secret look at some sweet new features of Woopra before we bloated ourselves on Mexican food. It was great!

I also was very happy to find out more about Richard, his background, and more about the way he thinks about things. I’ve always been a fan of ReadWriteWeb, and even went out to their "Real Time Web" conference last year. I hope I didn’t bore Richard and Elyssa by talking about my plans to move my family and StuckInCustoms.com to New Zealand… but I just get quite excited about their country. Maybe with today’s photo of the strange spherical boulders, you’ll see why.

If you want to find out more about what it looks like there, just click the New Zealand category here on the site!

The Six of us at Dinner at the Oasis. BTW, I’m the one in the glasses.

New Tweetboard Widget
I added a new Tweetboard widget there on the left. It’s a quick way for you to check in on the latest tweets and conversations on Twitter. I am at twitter.com/TreyRatcliff.

from the blog www.stuckincustoms.com

059 D_01b Page Two Detail from H. P. Lovecraft 20-Oct-1932 Letter to E. Hoffmann Price 3.5 X 5.6 From the 10-May-1981 Envelope to William Hart
are aliens real
Image by California Cthulhu (Will Hart)
Description and Transcription from Henry Paget-Lowe (Juha-Matti Rajala):

This is the second page of a letter from HPL to Price of 20 October 1932. The first page is missing here, but in Selected Letters 4.90-92 the excerpt (letter # 572) begins thus:
About Derleth—I’m going to mail you a copy of _Pagany_ with his “Five Alone”—& possibly (that is, if I can find it!) one of the Midland with his “Old Ladies”—three-starred by E. J. O’Brien in the “Best Short Stories of 1932”. Keep these as long as you like—though I’d like to see them again eventually. You will see in these things a writer absolutely alien to the facile little hack who grinds out minor W.T. junk. There is nothing common betwixt Derleth A & Derleth B—no point of contact in their mental worlds—and yet one brain houses them both . . . . . . artist & business-man, standing back to back and never speaking! The real Derleth’s source is in writers like Proust, & other evokers of wistful reminiscence who symbolise universal things in particular

[and the letter continues on this page:] memories. Nearly all the gang agree that the kid will go far in literature—probably farther than any of the rest. All the others—including myself, god damn it, despite my best efforts to keep clear of the taint—are more or less influenced by the cheap & tawdry methods & moods of commercial writing. Derleth can stoop to hack work, & yet keep his real side intact as a sincere artist. I don’t see how he does it—but he does. You’ll see what I mean when you get the stuff I’m sending. All of which reminds me that I’ve lately purchased E. J. O’brien’s “Dance of the Machines”—a splendid exposé of the vulgar shallowness, insincerity, & worthlessness of American commercial fiction under the false-standard conditions of the present. If you haven’t read this, & would like to, I’d be glad to lend it to you. Other recent purchases of mine (at an alluring remainder sale) are Huysman’s “A Rebours” & Perutz’s “Master of the Day of Judgement”.
As for my “Dreams in the Witch-House”—Derleth didn’t say it was unsalable, in fact, he rather thought it would sell. He said it was a poor story, which is an entirely different & much more lamentably important thing. I’m not sure that I wish it to appear before something is done to it. On the other hand, Smith & Wandrei liked it, & Dwyer’s opinion was more favourable than otherwise. The best thing to do is to wait while & see how it strikes me on a fresh reading. I think I need a long fallow period during which to purge my mind of the popular-fiction formula—for I can’t carry water on both shoulders as Derleth can. The story before the “Witch-House”—“The Shadow over Innsmouth”—has also been unfavourably received; & all my work, past & present, has recently had a very revealing analysis from a reader whose wide attainments well qualify him to render an opinion. Undeniably, I have allowed the popular forms to infect my work more than I have realised; so that it is always deficient in the subtlety & fineness & mood-drawing [. . . continues here: www.flickr.com/photos/cthulhuwho1/6943900569/ in/photostream/]

See and hear more Lovecraftian Items at the sister sites to these Flickr collections at:
cthulhuwho1.com
and
www.youtube.com/user/CthulhuWho1

Oya, African Warrior Goddess
are aliens real
Image by nubius2000
This is not the real Oya, but rather Aiana, a 15th century African woman who was bestowed with the power of Oya by the Agoni, an alien race of gamers. This Oya is the mother of Gianna de Medici, also known as Azazel…