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Picture taken for the contest "Transparencies" (any texture, only a glass)

 

Note per il contest "Trasparenze" del gruppo FOTOGRAFANDO (solo contest):

l'immagine non ha subito trattamenti ne uso di texture, il vetro è quello della mia serra (non so dirvi il nome specifico del tipo di vetro purtroppo). Il titolo "Sottovuoto" è in parte legato allo scatto (30 gradi fuori dalla serra, vi lascio immaginare dentro) ed in parte alle trasparenze degli alimenti appunto sottovuoto.

Fujifilm finepix hs10 + raynox dcr-250

 

Shot in raw, sharpened a bit more, and cropped, nothing else. :)

long stories shortened... (discarded and abandoned and intertwined short stories) well..actually they are chunks and fragmets and notes of stories that never made it

 

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a young PhD math candidate writing his dissertation on an obscure arab mathematician from the middle ages who specialized in cycles and periods in infinite series and develops a process to determine prime number density in a large number space. (which is all and good) except this makes it an excellent tool to decrypting military grade encryption, which is based on the computational difficulty of factoring large numbers into their prime components

 

the arab mathematician was ultimately censured by the religious mullahs for developing tools to rationalize the infinite, which is of course the nature of Allah and for man to attempt to place Allah into a human scale is blasphemy

 

so the arab mathematician disappears and the young phd candidate finds that his dissertation has been suspended pending review but cant get any information on who is reviewing it

 

finally another young mathematician approaches him and starts a long discussion on math and the nature of numbers and the mathematicians love of the underlying structure of reality that math represents. the phd candidate is leary of this mathematician cause he wont answer what he does or where he went to school or how he knows so many cutting edge fields in math

 

eventually, the young mathematician offers the phd candidate a position with the NSA, National Security Agency, (where all the big crypto and high math goes on) but explains that if he accepts that he will essentially disappear from his current world. his work will be classified, he will not be able to publish in academic journals or speak in public, or talk about his work to his friends on the outside, but the compensation is that he

would be able to work unfettered with the greatest math minds in the country, totally funded, free to explore any field or fancy he thought. after a few moments of thought, the phd accepts.

 

then the story will go back to the arab mathematician who is also approached my a young beared mullah, who offers him a position within his group of thinkers who do ponder and explore the nature of nature reality and Allah through mathematics, but that by joining them he would need to disappear from the world, after a few minutes of thought, he too accepts...

 

--

  

Daniel sipped his 6th coffee (colloidal suspension for caffeine transport) while his batch jobs on ramanet, the Indian supergrid, finished their checksum verification. His chin, a bit stubbly, itched. His eyes, a bit red, were sore. The goa trance shoutcast feed had mushed into a fast cadence drone. The flat screen monitor warped and bulged with the oscillating fan blowing on Daniel's face

 

'O' glamorous larval life of a PhD student...' he jotted and doodle-circled on his notepad.

 

Daniel cracked his neck and jutted his jaw, stretching out the accumulation of kinks, as RamaNet finished the final integrity check on his dataset. this two hour round of processing on the Indian supergrid would cost about $130 out of his precious grant fund, but you couldnt beat the bargain. 120 minutes times 150,000 PCs in the RamaNet processing collective = 1,080,000,000 seconds or 18,000,000 minutes or 300,000 hours or 12500 days or 34.25 years of processing time for the price of a video game. Calculation was commoditized now. You uploaded your pre-fromatted dataset to RamaNet. the data was packeted and sent to out to 150,000 Indians who lent a few percents of never-to-be missed CPU cycles off their systems for background processing. when their alotted package was completed it was sent back to RamaNet for re-assembly into something coherent for the buyer. in return the Indians got a rebate on their net access charges or access to premier bollywood galleries or credit towards their own processing charges. a good deal all the way around. Daniel's dataset, an anthology of complex proofs from a long-dead arab mathematician, was queued with amateur weather forecast modeling, home-brewed digital CGI for indie movies, chaos theory-based currency trading algorithms, etc. the really high end, confidential jobs, like protein folding analysis or big pharm drug trials were more likely handled by the huge western collectives of several million collaborative systems, usually high-performance machines in dedicated corporate server farms. the cost there was out of Daniel's range, but you got a faster return and better promises of encryption for your buck.

 

Daniel scratched his scalp and flexed his fingers. 'two months from today i will be a doctor of mathematics...and no job. damnit. i need to find something fast.' Daniel calculated in his mind how quickly the student loans repayments would kick in and completely wipe him out. RamaNet would have done it in nanoseconds, ha! he laughed to himself. Daniel had avoided the rounds of job interviews and recommendations that passed his way. he was too absorbed in his research to look ahead, and perhaps a bit intimidated by the idea of the job hunt flea market. flexing his CV, getting a monkey suit, trying to explain his research to recruiters, who were often the same finger-counting business majors in college that made his skin crawl. Daniel always felt a bit embarrassed when he announced he was math PhD candidate. folks would immediately glaze over,

tsk tsk out a 'that's interesting', and swiftly change the subject. something will come up, he mantra'd to himself over and over, something will come up. stick with ali, there is something real in there, just a bit deeper. the real problem was his thesis advisor. dr. fuentes was not returning his calls, his secretary was not taking appointments from Daniel. he had submitted his finished draft of his thesis two weeks ago, but hadnt heard back since, except for a cryptic email saying that the review committee was having some issues with his paper and that Daniel would be hearing from him shortly. Daniel was rerunning his calculations on RamaNet to assuage the gnawing doubt that he completely botched some component of his argument and that the review committee was debating some manner of telling him to redo the entire effort. no PhD and no job. that would ice the cake. Daniel started calculating his body mass and general aerodynamic resistance relative to the height of the school cathedral to figure out if he had time to reach a terminal velocity before impact...only a failed math PhD would attempt to determine at what speed his body would smack concrete, he morbidly thought to himself.

 

ali ja'far muhammed ibn abdullah al-farisi slipped meditatively on his cup of water, thinking about his proof. he dipped a finger in the cup and held up a droplet of water under his fingertip, watching the sunlight prisimatically splay out on the mouth of the cup. 'praise be Allah and his wonderous bounty' he mumured to himself.

 

the elders had been in conference all day over his proof. though the heavy doors to their chamber were closed, he would occasionally hear muffled but distinctly angry shouts. ali sat on a divan in the anteroom, served numerous cups of tea by an obviously nervous secretary. ali knew there was deep resistance to his research, but for the life of him he couldnt figure out why. he was a simple mathematician. he came up with some unique observations. he wanted to share them with his peers...

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Overview: biotech researcher discovers a new life-extension technology and is murdered. He is cryogenically frozen for 150 years. When he is

revived he must stop a dark corporate conspiracy – and find his murderer.

  

Summer 2015 - Hot genius free-lance biotech researcher unravels the key component of a radical life-extension gene therapy that will ensure 300 years of robust life to its recipients. The researcher is murdered shortly after he hides the critical component. His distraught friend has him cryogenically frozen. 150 years later, the researcher is revived by the same major bio-med corporation for which he had originally been working.

Quickly he realizes that their motives are less than altruistic: his modification of the gene therapy is needed to resolve an unforeseen debilitation now creeping up in the recipients of the life-extension process. The recipients, now nearing 125 years off added life, are decompensating into psychotics. The researcher at first tries to remember and reconstruct what he did with the hidden critical component, but stops in disgust when he learns that in the past 150 years the life-extension therapy has been reserved solely for the ultra-affluent and has created an extreme and cruel global gerontocratic elite. He voices his disgust to his corporate minders, who cease being beneficent and show their true colors as trying to gain control of this critical technology in order to control the elites.

 

In the process of dealing with the corporation, he learns about his murder and begins investigating.As he comes closer to the identity of his murderer, he uncovers a wider conspiracy and is the target of more murder attempts.

 

He was killed by a friend in 2015. The friend was the CEO of a small bio-gen firm that the researcher was doing the LET work for. The CEO, a biz-head with a genetics academic background, took the researcher’s work and exploited it as his own, in the process growing his small firm into a bio-med powerhouse and him into one of the world’s wealthiest individuals.

 

The CEO also was the first recipient of the LET and is now 190 years old, but doesn’t look a day over 45. Smart, urbane, ruthless, the CEO used his wealth and position to start the cabal of Ultras. It is a faction of the top 50 smartest and wealthiest people in the world who have ‘ascended from the world’ (faked their demise) and control the global economy with their vast coordinated wealth. Perhaps they will call themselves ‘The Ascended’. We need to decide how the cabal lives. Are they sequestered on a luxurious island compound, or do they live in the open, surgically re-sculpted after each faked death, or do they live in the open.

 

Also we need to figure out what the world will look and feel like in 150 years.

 

As the ultras decompensate into psychosis, the CEO orders the researcher to be revived in order to find a cure. The CEO had the researcher’s lab notes decrypted and figured that the he was close if not successful in finding the missing component to stabilize the LET.

 

Tiberius Syndrome: the decline into cruel psychosis experienced by the ultras, named after the roman emperor Tiberius’ degenerate behavior after he sequestered himself on Capri.

 

The ironic twist might be that there is no cure, no stabilization. The psychosis is not the result of the LET alone, but also due in part to the unfettered ego/wills of the ultras. Absolute power corrupts…

  

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a brazilian hacking syndicate was subcontracted by a st petersberg crew to run interference on a hit on SWIFT, the global currency clearinghouse notification network. The UniFavela clan was going to run a multi-flank raid. They specialized in fast propagating virii and had created a custom mail-in virus that exploited a few microsoft vulnerabilities that they had discovered and kept mum. Their target was a Latin American PR spokesman listed on the corporate web site for press queries. The PR flak would be just the sleepy guard on the wall for their virus to slip past. 30 minutes after opening an inocuous spoofed email from a French e-trade publication requesting clarification on the SWIFT-Indentrus partnership. the virus would port scan and map its entire site LAN, salmoning its way up the router paths till it found the deep waters of the main corporate campus network in Brussels. Shortly, the internal LAN at Brussels would be suffering switch and router buffer overflows and traffic would gasp, ack, and sputter. UniFavela would then towel whip out a vanilla DDOS on the main company web site, any INTERNIC-registered addresses, and any other system in the IP block reserved for SWIFT that had previously port scanned as interesting, or ,even, as nothing. Mongols charging the village gates and tossing flaming torches on thatched roofs. IT Operations would be running to and fro, trying to figure out the internal bandwidth crunch and if there was a bleedout causing the external net problems.

 

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The Post-Human Story of Minos:

 

the CEO of a powerful commercial combine is bore an illegitimate son by his indiscreet wife in retaliation for his own dalliances. the son has a hideous deformity but is fantastically brilliant - brilliant enough for the father overcome his own repulsion of the child - as a bastard and a freak. the father sequesters the child in an elaborate virtual domain. the child, a hacker savant, is used to breach competitor nets. but as his power in the digital realm expands, the child transforms into the tyrant-monster. using the nets, he lashes out at people who have caused him pain, then evolves into enjoying the taste of terror and fear. He becomes the Minotaur.

 

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'there was a mad scramble amongst all the big spook governments, dark side corporations, and the privacy maccabees once it was determined that quantum computation had left the tidal pool of academia, grown legs and air-breathing lungs, and was headed for the nat sec intel highlands. all previous encryption models were rendered obsolete, and worse, exposed. QC became an undefiable xray spotlight, laying bare any encrypted secret with a ease of opening a mathematical candy wrapper. And for a while it swung the advantage back to the state in the digital Boer War against the freecon partisans.'

 

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The Oort, to the Intras, looked as one people. Extra-stellar hillbillies, ekeing out a subsistance existence on extracted organics from the frozen crud comets and other planetesimals of the Oort Cloud that slung around the solar system in a 1K AU circuit. To the Oort there was no Oort. Each station, each kampong was distinct and seperate. Seperate dialects, traditions, norms, goals. Some were scientific collectives, some were tired mining operations, some were intense sectarian cults - they shared little between themselves beyond necessary trade links for scarce commodities.

 

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A young prince is disgraced in an internal court scandal and sent into a quasi-exile on a worthless mission. On his travels he builds the wisdom and learns the skills necessary to be a just and effective leader.

 

His exile was a gambit by his patriarch to remove Genji from the arena of pointless court intrigues and develop him as a real leader. The patriarch dispatched a team of loyal praetorians to discreetly follow and protect Genji on his odyssey.

 

Genji was sent as an emissary to the Oort system. He must pass through the Martian-Saturnine corridor, populated with industrial trading guilds and their private militias.

 

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Genealogy becomes paramount in a closed culture; hierarchy by heredity. Reference the roman patrician class’ death-grip obsession with lineage, or the medieval Japanese imperial court’s strict intra-elite caste system.

 

But in an era of extreme genetic engineering, how can bloodlines retain their importance? Perhaps this is the wrong question. Perhaps in an era of extreme genetic engineering, authentic bloodlines can only retain their importance. The longevity of an unchanged gene line demonstrates success in evolutionary competition. Over time however, the fitness of a rigidly enforced and ‘sequestered’ gene line will degrade. Consider the hemophilia of the European royal strata.

 

I would not want the imperial court of the inner system to be pure blue bloods, eschewing genetic manipulation. Rather I would have them take the opposite tack – and embrace genetic engineering in the pursuit of perfecting particular socially valued or distinctive attributes; a roman nose, elongated refined fingers, even the possession of certain ‘noble’ afflictions (for ex., the aforementioned hemophilia as a sign of noble lineage).

The elites should pursue genealogy with the same passion and gusto as horse breeders; studs and mares and percentages of bloodlines, enforced and suppressed gene expressions, surrogates, and gene modes des saisons.

 

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a bum finds a the wallet and keys of a man who jumped from a bridge

he goes to his townhouse to find something to eat or steal

is impressed and overwhelmed with the man's townhouse

showers, eats, gets cleaned up, finds some clothes

is ready to leave when he helps a woman wrestling with groceries at her door

she thanks him, but looks stunned.

‘are you the man in #560? umm..i have lived here for 3 years and have never actually seen you. you seem to leave so early in the morning and get

home so late and keep to yourself.’

they spend 30 minutes talking, having a generally warm friendly encounter.

‘well, I am so glad to have finally met you. Hope to see you soon.’ As she closes her door, the bum turns to leave but pauses and thinks for a moment, then goes back into the man's townhouse

he pours through the man's papers and keepsakes and learns that the man has no family that he speaks with, no friends, lives off a well-endowed trust fund

 

and

 

the bum moves in and takes over the mans identity

he brings warmth and sincerity to the man's identity

 

what makes a hermit tick? what lengths do they go to to remove themselves from society? does it become a game to avoid contact, trying to become a shadow, a phantom? does society dissolve away as a mental force in their thoughts, atrophy away or does it become an amputated impression?

 

what divsion line stands between a hermit and convict in solitary? the hermit, by and large, chooses their isolation, the convict has it enforced upon them. at what point does the human need for society or socialization collapse? is there anything left that we can inspect and evaluate? a hermit, however, is able to maintain walls against the Great Other, which would imply that they are seeking refuge from the world. a schizo or an autistic will be physically surrounded by others but unable or incapable of making contact.

 

when does the will to contact die? what is left over? do humans require contact to retain our humanity? can you love and sacrifice in a vacuum?

what defines humanity? oooh, a big question...

  

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genetic engineering will continue to deconstruct the human species

 

there will be catastrophic disasters: gene sequence specific viruses engineered to attack 'types' of people. Der Genkampf

petroleum will be replaced- hydrogen-powered locomotion and green power (in the wealthy states). the poor states will continue to be held hostage to oil politics

 

(cultures and civilizations do not move forward uneringly. they spasticly jerk forward and fro, in clumps andgrains, never ever as a lemming death drive.)

 

developed economies will be netized. a new state structure will be needed to manage and dsitribute resources. the corporate structure, the commercial backbone of the capitalist democracy, will replace the republic. it is flexible to markets and political forces, insistent on accountability, it provides a sufficient compromise between individual representation and republican government. they will begin their political evolution as projects in community development. assurances of an educated workforce by charter education. assurances of uninterrupted utilities by running their own power/water etc. net-based marketplaces create corporate agoras. employees are in fact de facto citizens of the corporation. citizenship, or regular employment, will be a reward for merit, stock shares will count towards suffrage.

 

great corporate collectives will arise. housing, education, security...all the needs of the middle class will be absorbed in the corporate state. the tradtional state will cede roles and responsibilities to the corporate state as their resources dwindle. a few isolated violent reactions (military or legal)by the republics against the corporate states, but they will fail over time. against, or more so, in conjunction with the homogenized corporatsists wil be the diasporae, non-corporates will glom to other modes of networked alignment, ethnic allegiance will become stronger over time - as the chinese, indian, and jewish disporaestrengthen as a formula for a successful competition against/with the corporates.

 

the american state, succored by its overwhelming techo-military supremancy, loses its mission, its vision - substitutes will to dominate for will to excel - and falls into the deep narcotic, insulated slumber of the unassailable. GE, nano, and the banknote net weaken the mythic cohesion of the american spirit. we are no longer united by common experience (mass-mediated or otherwise) the promise of science to make us stronger, smarter, near immortal is held like a manifest destiny or a divine IOU for services rendered to humanity.

 

Entry for my Iron Builder with Kos brick. The secret ingredient for this round is 2 x 2 Domes in Dark Blue.

  

Invented in about 1905 by Ambrose Fleming, vacuum tubes were a basic component for electronics throughout the first half of the twentieth century, which saw the diffusion of radio, television, radar, sound reinforcement, sound recording and reproduction, large telephone networks, analog and digital computers, and industrial process control

shot for Macro Monday's theme of: Scientific

 

available for purchase through GettyImages.com: www.gettyimages.ca/detail/photo/vacuum-tubes-high-res-sto...

Macro Mondays ~Inside Electronics

The very impressive vacuum pump for paper machine eight

Dyson doesn't do it .

these are based on a story I read on DA written by an artist who I cant remember, while he makes no reference to the design of these rifles, his story inspired me to make these.

 

they are based on some sort of electromagnetic system, propelling a projectile down grooves in the forearms of the weapons.

 

credit to Hoongoi, and to a DA artist named Biometal and to the sci fi nerd and to archkyrie and to deathmasque.

 

please click all sizes :)

My vacuum cleaner doesn't smile like this - and neither do I when using it!

(Seen outside our hotel room)

 

© All Rights Reserved. This image may not be copied, reproduced, published or distributed in any medium without the expressed written permission of the copyright holder.

 

PLEASE DO NOT USE MY PHOTOS ON BLOGS OR IN ANY OTHER WAY

   

102/365

 

I'm baaaaaaaaaaaaaaack!!! The first of july my old notebook died and I was without a computer..

Now I'm writing from my new monstrous imac 27''.. :-)

I hope I'll catch up quickly with my project!

 

This is a picture I had in my mind for quite some time, I hope you like it, it's part of a"ghost series"

  

Take a look at my 365 days project here

  

Take a look at my other surrealistic works here

 

Check out my website

A little road trip to Wisconsin tonight. First pictures I have posted from the dslr in awhile.

Something is missing in life and I can't tell what it is.

Echo de la mer sur la rosée matinale, nous sommes

Là comme en points de suspension, ponctué d’une signification trouble.

La mer est une lucarne saillie, nous avançons dans le rythme comme une promesse.

Par les vagues dévorant le vent. L’espace est d’une obsession

Qui s’étire en longueur, à l’infini, sous la respiration du ciel.

Ici il n’y a aucune trace que celles de nos empreintes ; ni arbres

Ni fruits, ni murs, ni toits, seulement quelques rides d’oiseaux et de silhouettes en rêve

Séparées dans la lumière humide. Et nos cheveux prennent le sel

Pour s’emmêler, aspiré par l’abandon sur la côte qui sommeille.

Toutes nos forces débordent, car la mer et le vent réunis provoquent cela.

L’aspiration. Le lieu est vide mais plein d’énergie que l’on ne soupçonne pas.

On marche, on marche, on avance. Et puis soudain, la fatigue devient terrible. Nous devenons insuffisants et si petit soudain.

 

Le ciel se dénude.

 

₮.w

L’insuffisance - Lundi 22.11.10 -10h50.

 

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Echo of the sea on the morning dew, we are

Here, as in an ellipsis, punctuated of a significance disorder.

The sea is a projecting skylight, we advance on the pace like a promise

By the waves devoured the wind. Space is an obsession

Stretching in length, to infinity, under the breath of heaven.

Here there is no record that those of our impressions, nor trees

Any fruits, any walls, any roofs, a few wrinkles of birds and silhouettes in dreams

Separated in the wet light. And our hair take the salt

To become entangled, absorbed by the abandonment that lies on the coast.

All our forces are overflowing, because the sea and the wind causes it together.

Aspiration. The place is empty but full of energy that is not suspected.

We walk, we walk, we advance. And then suddenly the fatigue is terrible. We become suddenly so small and insufficient.

 

The sky is laid bare.

 

:::::::::::::: :::

phot.O by Jack Spencer

Beach people ©

Five vintage vacuum tubes from an RCA Victor AM-FM Phonograph.

View On Black / View On White /

 

the space, the rest, the pause, the silence, the space between, the median vacuum:

all mark the moment of choice

 

maybe the pictosopher photographs the space between the picture and the philosophy, eliciting the thought from the image, or coaxing out the image from

the thought, and moving through the moment of silence

Wall cloud in a thunderstorm supercell.

 

Orage .. oh désespoir!

Base d'une supercellule orageuse avec un nuage mur

 

--

Saint Quentin en Yvelines

Yvelines (78) - France

Pretty busy with work this week. My flickr infidelities shame me.

 

CHAINS CAN BE CURTAINS - BLOG POST.

  

Powering all those old Art-Deco radios and other electronica are valves. Here a suitcase houses quite a few of them both English and American varieties .

7DOS That's boring geometry Sunday

Part of my vacuum cleaner.

This is what happens when I don't feel like going out on a Friday night, I've got lots of beer in my fridge, I really need to vacuum my apartment, and I've been listening to super-hyper rockabilly on KEXP. And I have to do a 365 and feel like using strobes. My downstairs neighbors probably want to kill me.

 

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Strobist info:

NIkon SB-600 at 1/4 power in a shoot-through umbrella above and behind camera.

Triggered via Gadget Infinity Cactus V2.

"Hope our vacuum is hungry," stated Phillip.

 

"Oh he is. He hasn't been fed in weeks! Well, since he ate mom's ring and refused to reveal its whereabouts!"

 

"Are you sure this is how mom wanted the Christmas mess cleaned up, because once he eats it, he won't want to give it back for next year."

 

"I already thought about that. I filled him up on old salami and moldy leftovers. Once we are done cleaning, we will just open him up and take out what we need before he has time to digest it or throw it up...whichever comes first!"

 

"Marble, you are the smartest!"

Photographer: Georgiy Alexandrov Copyright: Georgiy Alexandrov

vivitar ultra wide and slim

This is a solar telescope. It was next door to my accommodation and is awesome looking if you're into James Bond villain lairs.

Photographer: Georgiy Alexandrov Copyright: Georgiy Alexandrov

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