I am taking a short break after a lovely morning workout in my exercise room. The attic of my townhouse from Barnesworth Anubis is huge, light and airy, perfect for a playroom or, for singletons like me, for a room to dance, exercise and even chill with a book on the massage table after a workout.Continue reading
Pixicat has a wonderful ballerina skirt and bodysuit at The Arcade along with several darling ballerina globes to decorate your space. I was inspired to make a short video using the Resplendent Rose Ballet Barre that I purchased a few years ago. However, I have gone to the store and to the marketplace and cannot find it for sale any longer. If folks have recommendations, I would love to hear them.
I will do a separate post about the studio furniture and decor. I wanted to focus on this lovely ballet outfit from Pixicat. When you watch the video you will see how flawlessly it fits.
There is another sky,
Ever serene and fair,
And there is another sunshine,
Though it be darkness there;
Never mind faded forests, Austin,
Never mind silent fields –
Here is a little forest,
Whose leaf is ever green;
Here is a brighter garden,
Where not a frost has been;
In its unfading flowers
I hear the bright bee hum:
Prithee, my brother,
Into my garden come! …Emily Dickinson
I love the sweater and skirt from ur favorite one (u.f.o.) for Collabor88. They come in a wide range of colors and have a hint of fall, but are still lightweight and open for summer. Perfect transition clothing for September. That big knit bow is perfection.
Though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light;
I have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night.
Most of us have an atavistic fear of the dark. It makes sense, many animals hunt at night. While we may hunt by day, at night we are the prey. I have always loved the dark, though. During the day, the lake I grew up on would be busy with people fishing and waterskiing. I have had more than one daytime close call with a speed boat driven by reckless people who never think to look for swimmers. I loved to swim in lake at night when the boats were silenced and sleeping, put to bed for fear of being run aground in the narrow lanes between the islands. While there might be a few hundred people on the lake during the day, at night I was often the only one. Of course, it was never quiet. There were the frogs, crickets, owls, timber wolves and best of all, the loons, all competing for lead vocals in the nightly concert.
We were in the country so the moon and stars reflected and refracted in the waves. I would swim toward the ribbon of moonlight even knowing I could never catch it. I suppose it was my own brand of recklessness, swimming alone for hours among the stars, but it was magical, too. Sometimes I pulled out my canoe and paddled so i was lined up with the moon’s reflection and then jumped in, diving down to the touch the bottom of the lake which never got much deeper than forty feet. I liked the deep water where the lake bottom was made of marl rather than muck or clay. Something about swimming in utter blackness captivated me and I never felt afraid.
I miss living by the lake and going swimming. Lakes in Oregon are glacier fed and not really suitable for swimming. That has not stopped me, but in water that cold, you can’t laze about in the water and drift. You can’t lay back and let yourself sink into the inky water and pretend you are floating among the stars.
Of course, standing on Kalopsia’s broken floor is not exactly sinking into inky depths either, and I am standing, now swimming, but I am eagerly waiting for sun to set and for the evening chorus to begin. I am with cranes instead of loons and they are paper (from DDD for Collabor88), so they will be unaccountably quiet. If they could speak, however, they would rave about my adorable dress from ur.favorite.one (u.f.o.) that is at Collabor88 this month.
The Owl and the Pussycat went to sea
In a beautiful What’s Next boat,
It took some honey and plenty of money
To play all the gachas in their wishlist note.
The Owl looked up to the stars above
and sang with a small guitar.
O love Arcade, O Arcade my love.
What a beautiful Arcade you are,
you are, you are.
What a beautiful Arcade you are.
With apologies to The Ramones.
They’re shopping in a straight line,
They’re bouncing off a full sim,
the fashionistas are losing their minds.
Hey ho, let’s go! hey ho, let’s go!
Hey ho, let’s go! hey ho, let’s go!
They’re piling on the mesh bits,
Trying to to make it all fit,
Pretty in Punk’s a big hit.
Hey ho, let’s go
Shoot’em in the back now
What they want, I don’t know
They’re all dressed up and ready to go
The first paragraph I drafted for this post called what happened yesterday at Charlie Hebdo unthinkable. Of course, I had to delete that and start again because it obviously was not just thinkable, but doable. Three of our fellow human beings went into an office and killed twelve other fellow human beings because they were offended by their cartoons. It all sounds so ludicrous, doesn’t it?
Of course, to say the murders were about cartoons is to miss the point. The killers are bit players in an existential struggle between modernity and traditionalism and modernity is winning. When you are winning, you do not resort to tactics like terrorism. Terrorism is for losers.
You see, if they were not losing the argument already, they had many other options to object to and oppose the satiric cartoons of Charlie Hebdo. They could protest outside the office. They could have billboards saying “Chalie Hebdo is a poopy head.” They could write letters to the editor or to the advertisers asking them to stop running ads in the magazine. They could call for a boycott of products advertised in Charlie Hebdo. But their side is losing and they know it. So they decided to smash things and kill people. Continue reading
So I have been crashing every single time I saved a picture to disk for the last two days, perhaps some new incompatibility arose from upgrading my OS to Yosemite. I will have to figure it out soon, but I didn’t feel like trouble shooting today, so I just save the photos direct to Flickr®. That means these are truly raw photos, not even cropped. I just set the size of the frame inworld and clicked until I got the shot I wanted and so what you see is what you get. As to why it crashes saving to disk but not to Flickr, those are the mysteries of computers and graphics cards and code.
Close your eyes, close the door
You don’t have to worry anymore
I’ll be your baby tonight
Shut the light, shut the shade
You don’t have to be afraid
I’ll be your baby tonight
One of the joys of Second Life is allowing us to inhabit parallel lives, the lives we dreamed in our youth. Like many of you, I dreamed of all sorts of “when I grow up” scenarios. Mostly I said I wanted to be an archeologist when I grew up, but there were times when I declared my intent for president, supreme court justice, artist and dancer. Of course, I did grow up to inhabit none of these dreams, finding instead my adult dream as a political activist. I am happy with my adult dreams and only feel a faint nostalgic wistfulness for my childhood dreams. How fun it is, though, to live those dreams as an avatar. This season’s offerings from The Arcade are really the stuff dreams are made of.