#fogeyes

[blackswaneuroparedux]

Conservatism and old fogeyism are totally different things; the motto of one is “Prove all things and hold fast that which is good” and of the other “Prove nothing but hold fast that which is old.”

- William Osler

Osler, a Canadian physician and one of the founding professors of the John Hopkins hospital in Baltimore, was playing on words from what was written in the bible, 1 Thessalonians 5:21: “Prove all things; hold fast that which is good.“

[bad-rper]

i draw art of world of warcraft lore friendly subway five dollar footlong veggie delight on whole grain flatbread 1080p [HD] YLYL challenge elsa spiderman asmr binaural beats

Magdal Fogeye - @fog-eye

[pettyelves]

aDRIFT; eilonwy

Dust drifts along the cliffsides, up roaring falls until the sky opens up. A violent rainstorm washes the stardust back down to earth. She’s all weight, an anchor dragging through mud. With her back to a tree, Eilonwy lets herself go for a while hoping that somewhere on the cusp of consciousness Magdal’s location would push itself into her mind. As a thought enters, thunder claps loud above her. The leaves scream frightful and cry out as their fellow leaves are ripped in handfuls by strong winds.  Follow us. They shout back at Eilonwy. This is the last thing we can do. We won’t get to bloom.  She chases. She chases and its like a jump in time. Cold, vacant eyes staring ahead, frazzled ginger hair, and that hand. The hand that spells out.  E Y E  Sealgaire is watching, but she knows she fast. If she can just..

The ceiling of the cave is alit by the dim bioluminescence of mushrooms. Though a net has pinned her in a wet crumple on her back, she finds the view beautiful. Stardust has returned, it floats up and dots the top of the cave like dozens of stars.  Even when Sealgaire’s imposing figure looms, she thinks their eyes must be the moons, the final pieces of the night sky. But they aren’t as lifeless as the Pale Lady, not as cruel as another whose eyes were made of the purest moonlight. “You’ll keep me safe? Can you even keep yourself safe?” Their trill language was frantic and when Sealgaire’s knife pressed near her face, still she tried to lace her fingers around their offending hand. As they spoke, Eilonwy knew that Magdal was moving but her reason for coming seemed far away from Eilonwy and suspended moon and stars.  She’ll be okay. She’s so afraid right now, but she’ll be okay. The stars assure her, or perhaps its her own voice masquerading as something so much bigger.  “You don’t know what it’s like!  You don’t know what it’s like!” The trills of sylphic from Sealgaire’s lips buzz with panic. They have never looked so elven to her, more scared, lost thing than beast.  The net breaks by their knife, in frayed threads. She is free. Magdal is free. But Sealgaire is leaving-- going and going between the claps of thunder. This time she is certain they won’t stop running.  You will be afraid forever. 

I understand if you want to hunt them. Her bare feet smacking into the mud, rain crashing all around her as she moved like lightning away from the clinic.  S’that what you came here for? The air feels like breathing ice, that turns to fire when it reaches her stomach. By time she reaches the Bell Tree, it is boiling over-- frustration stacked up to blind rage.  The bells clang dissonant in the storm, and as she stands full up with fire-- she has no choice but to burn. Even as she destroys her own quiet place, throwing and slamming and thrashing, the leaves cry with her.   Hours later, the dust has drifted back to the palm of a tree. Curled up, the leaves stretch out their lines to shield her from the persistent rain. “It’s not fair,” she tells the leaves. “Not fair to be alone forever. Not fair to have no name. Not fair. Not fair.” Her lips pinch downward, and she knows good and well nothing is fair.  “I know,” she mumbles, “They want to be no one. So it doesn’t hurt..” And the leaves rustle their rustle.  “But they aren’t. They aren’t just a hunter either,” she decides, her arms wrapped around her knees. “Even if it is secret. Or they never hear it. Or if we never see them again..” she trails off into thought. Lightening flashes, splitting the sky and casting her foliage-bound friends in stark black and white. “ A name that’s a wish..”  A clap of thunder. A new name swallowed up in the echo. [ @fog-eye Magdal @bad-rper​ Sealgaire]

[kingratsthings]

A Wretched Red Hand  Hand belongs to @fog-eye​

[davidpwilson2564]

Bloglet

Friday, November 10, 2023

Evening: A break w routine. At AB's invitation (I covered for his teaching a couple of days) we go to see the Paul Taylor Dance Company.

We are seated up high at the Koch Theater. Good view of the pit. I spot a couple of friends. Those are Kenichi's percussion instruments (he told me).

This is modern dance. Not a toe shoe in sight.

The first selection, in the Paul Taylor tradition, is a taped piece. The next piece for a live orchestra. It features the percussionist, Maya Gunji. Lots of notes, on a lot of percussion instruments. Virtuosic. Ms. Gunji nails it. (The piece was composed for Evelyn Glennie [Scottish, phenomenal musician. Now Dame (!) Evelyn Glennie. There is an interesting documentary about her. She is profoundly deaf.)

The music is fine but the dance is incomprehensible. (My mother would have said, "The dancers look so nice and clean.")

After intermission, more great playing in the pit. "The Rite of Spring" for two pianos. I get very little out of the dance. It's eccentric and quirky. If there is a story here it is lost on me.

(AB tells me David Diamond told him [in a class at Juilliard] that Bernstein played a solo version of "Rite" at a party. Reported that Lennie got through the whole rendition from memory. Amazing what that man could do.)

Old fogeyism is closing in. I'll never be a modern dance fan. I'm only there for the music. (It is said that Bruckner, admiring Wagner's music, attended a couple of Wagner operas and was seen staring determinedly into the pit.)

AB and I have a drink afterwards. We, sort of, catch up. As I have said, I miss seeing people. Having gotten my culture fix, I go home.

[byneddiedingo]

Tomisaburo Wakayama in The Young Rebels (Keisuke Kinoshita, 1980) Cast: Go Kato, Tomisaburo Wakayama, Junko Mihara, Tatsuya Okamoto, Tomoko Saito. Screenplay: Keisuke Kinoshita. Cinematography: Masao Kosugi. The title of Keisuke Kinoshita's polemical pseudo-documentary, The Young Rebels, sounds like that of a Hollywood film from the 1950s, the era of naive, sensational, and didactic dramas about "juvenile delinquency." Which is exactly what The Young Rebels turns out to be: an exploitation film about why kids go wrong. The answer is a simple one: their parents. The kids, Kinoshita is saying, are not all right: They ride around on motorcycles, they cut school, they shoplift, and they have sex. This was not exactly news in 1980: Nagisa Oshima, for example, was onto these facts in 1960, when he made Cruel Story of Youth, and he blamed it on dysfunctional parenting in 1969's Boy. But Oshima's films are about people more than they are about problems. Kinoshita has lost sight of the people in his obsession with the problem, and the result is a scattershot film designed to ferret out examples of parental irresponsibility both high -- affluent parents who are so obsessed with climbing the corporate or social ladders that they either ignore their children or spoil them -- and low -- parents who are so mired in poverty and its attendant ills like alcoholism and crime that they abuse their children. The narrative framework of the film is as simplistic as its point of view: a journalist goes in search of answers and interviews children and parents. Kinoshita is enough of an artist that he knows how to tell the several stories uncovered by the journalist, which gives The Young Rebels enough dramatic substance to keep the polemic at bay during the storytelling, but the piling on of miseries turns into overkill. Eventually, the journalist visits a kind of reform school in Hokkaido, the north of Japan, where wayward boys are nurtured back into society -- but there's even some recidivism there. At the end, the point seems to be that every kid needs a loving mother and father -- the Japanese title translates as a cry for help: "Father! Mother!" It has been pointed out that people raised children for millennia until, sometime in the mid-20th century, they became self-conscious about it and turned it into a problem. Kinoshita's humorless and even hopeless polemic does little to solve the problem, especially when the film often seems bogged down in fogeyism: A scene of joyriding motorcycle gangs, for example, is treated as a vision from hell.

[sivatherium]

#gejaip #osutis #etodum #tane #ruqel #oreroe #etatep #heheta #fogeye #senehe #degaih #sakoi #tefero #nanuen #erutoi #igeyet #ote #erato #gudeya #otoce #totao #sake #meso #hebade #serey #eraxeo #doh #taqia #detin #meno

[we-rate-warrior-names]

Lymenook (m), Fogeyes (f, Blind) those two are mates. Sporekit, Mushroomkit and Nookkit are their kits!

Lymenook - A cheerful and caring tom. Lymenook loves his family dearly, he feels so lucky to be able to raise kits with Fogeyes. He always walks with a spring in his step and a sense of optimism, but he can be serious and stern when needed, especially now he’s a father, but he’s never too harsh, he only does it when he’s fearful of the consequences if cats don’t listen. He wants nothing more to protect his family and he would do anything for them, 15/10

Fogeyes - A gentle and intelligent she-cat. Fogeyes is highly insightful, her clanmates often joke that she can actually see more than all of them put together. Fogeyes is often asked for advice, especially when it comes to strategies and resolving tensions or conflict. Fogeyes is always gentle, but like Lymenook, she can be stern if needed, mainly when the kits begin to misbehave, but she will always give them a comforting lick before sending them on their way, 15/10

Sporekit- An adventurous and bold kit. This kit is a troublemaker, always encouraging their siblings to go on adventures. They can’t wait to be an apprentice so they can finally explore outside the camp, but they always feel a twinge if regret when they realise how scared some of their adventures make their parents, 14/10

Mushroomkit - A friendly and cheerful kit. Mushroomkit always goes along with what Sporekit is planning, Sporekit’s games are so fun after all! Mushroomkit always tries to be friendly and helpful, even if they are just a kit. They often take fresh kill over to the elders to try and help them out, also the elders always give stories as a reward, 14/10

Nookkit- A quiet and thoughtful kit. Nookkit doesn’t necessarily agree with Sporekit’s ideas, but a sense of curiousity overwhelms them so they will often follow behind, even if reluctantly. Nookkit likes to sit at the nursery entrance, close to Fogeyes, and watch the goings on in the camp, hoping to learn about their clanmates as much as they can ready for when they are an apprentice, 14/10

[had2remakeimat-karuie]

    𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑.     ―   @fog-eyes.   ＊ * •̩̩͙ ✩ •̩̩͙ * ˚

    ⟡  ･  *  :    𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐅𝐓𝐄𝐑  another night of  intimacy,    the vampiress stirs from her sleep rather  GROGGILY,    drooped crimson hues focusing on their sireé.        watching meir continue to rest rather  peacefully  for a minute or so,    sleepy  &.  faint grin upon their complexion,    they slowly fell back to  rest  upon his chest,    but doing so as a means to  ROUSE  him from his sleep.

[weareunderthesamestars]

Amazing Mateu o by @sayehsmakeup 💄 #makeup #maquillaje #girl #chica #eyemakeup #sombradeojos #blueeyes #ojosazules #ojosahumados #fogeyes #eyeliner #makeuptutorial #tutorialdemaquillaje #style #gorgeous #pretty

[featherbraincd-aaa]

❛ well this is embarrassing … ❜

@fog-eyes​

                 ❛  aw,   sweetheart…  ❜     a   laugh   bubbles   in   the   back   of   his   throat,   lips   twitching   upwards   into   a   mischievous   smile.     what   a   pain,   getting   one’s     JACKET     caught   in   an   automatic   door–   which   was   now     JAMMED     SHUT.     a   hand   brushes   against   his   chin,   as   if   to   hide   the   growing   smirk,   before   he   gives   up   and   snorts   instead.     he   clearly   isn’t   above   ridiculing   people   for   his   own   amusement.

                 ❛  happens   t’the   best’ve   us,   don’t   worry.     actually,   tha’s   a   lie;     if   it   happened   t’the   best’ve   us,   it’d   be     ME    stuck   there.  ❜

[bad-rper]

What's your biggest comfort? (Lathy)

What a shaky, rodent-looking boy he was. Those giant ears were only comparable to his wide and encompassing eyes. So white, so fearful and trembling on those already gaunt cheekbones.

"Th-there." Outstretched a thin and spindly finger from beneath a black encompassing cape. Apparently whoever was raising this ghoulish looking lad hadn't the expenses to keep up with his erratic and perplexing growth spurts, simply throwing a cape over him and calling it good.

That finger, however, stretched into more dark. Shadows deeper than what hung around his shoulders. "Th-the dark," he clarified carefully, "It's safe in the dark."

[pettyelves]

👤Tadghfhijklmnop about Magdal (I will not be getting permission thank you)

Like you need my permission and fuck @fog-eye 's permission too.

"Aaaaaaaaaaah, Doc Fogeye," he began with a big smile and gregarious voice. "Wha' can I say about Magdal? She's GREAT, isn' she? She's calm. She's cool. She's collected. Wha' a woman, that Magdal FUCKIN' Fogeye." He slapped both his thighs like a midwesterner on his way to depart from the family barbeque. "Whew, I could wring that little chicken neck, I could. But once I were ovah my seething rage about being put outta work for nigh a month?" He thought for a while, letting out a little tun in whistles. "She ain' bad. Easy to speak too when she ain' shooting you... Don' see whatevah Dhole sees in her but I don' know tha' one well eithah. He seems a nuttah too, so maybe they's made for one anothah."

[kingratsthings]

Pitch & Poppy

Magdal Fogeye belongs to @fog-eye​

[davidpwilson2564]

Bloglet

Sunday, January 15, 2022

Kenichi arrives with two boxes, one large, one small. TVs. He has had to circle the block several times to find a parking space.  (It’s awfully damn hard to find parking in this area.  I had offered to pay for a parking lot. He says even the parking lots were full.  Dammit.)  He has brought Julie with him.  

Then we discover that I have forgotten something essential.  My wi-fi password.  Christ, when was the last time I needed it?  Kenichi does some detective work and finds it.  (I silently resolve to never forget it again.)  Moreover there is a small cable I am lacking.  Kenichi says it is a simple cable, something that most people who fool with electronics have around the house. [Gulp.]  He sets out to find it.  

While he is gone Julie does some programming.  She is as clever as her dad when it comes to doping out these numbers and codes.  Kenichi returns and gets everything working.  All of this quite the learning curve for me.  Old fogeyism has crept in.  

I have mentioned this before...but admire Kenichi’s athletic build.  All those years of heavy lifting.  

Note: Wonder if young Mr. Santos might end his charade by faking his own death.  

[witchreign]

@fog-eyes​   ❤ ‘d

“-- Could I ask you for a favor? I’ve been trying to open this item but unfortunately I am finding it to be a bit of a difficulty...” The witch gives the Codd-necked bottled drink one more glance before letting out a sigh. “I’m assuming this is a drink, correct?”