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Well... not quite drawing. I use facebook's graffiti app to make these:


The making of.


The making of.





The app is very simple. It has opacity, brush size (always circular in shape), and colour. You do the rest yourself. There's lots of layering and such, and by the end there's usually so many layers that the brush is lagging behind the cursor

I have fun drawing these; if I make any more I'll show them here too.

Hey guys, I'm trying to network my computer with my Dad's laptop, but the LAN isn't being recognised. Currently I'm using this setup:

PC ->  Patch cable -> RJ45 reverse cord coupler -> Patch cable -> Ethernet card -> Laptop.

I know that I *can* LAN these two because I have before. Can anyone tell me what might be wrong? Is the coupler the right one?

I can probably answer any questions you need answering.

Thanks in advance =)

Edit: Ah, righto. Thanks CJ.

Hmm... retrospective.

Can't believe how long I've been a member of this place, although my visitations have dropped sharply (used to be daily, now maybe once every two months).

Alot has happened.

Two planes into two towers changed the face of global politics.
Chelsea FC have risen to be the juggernauts of the modern game.
Spirited Away was released.
I have been to Russia, Namibia, Majorca, Tanzania, Zanzibar, Spain and Scotland.
The Gamecube died a quiet death, but the Wii looks to be a big player.
A distant relative from the USA came over to go to a LOTR convention.
I've started two books. Ceased writing one; the other is in progress.
I lost my ability to write MIDI music. I don't know why.
I lost my ability to write poetry. I don't know why.
I have passed my GCSEs and A levels and am in Leicester University studying English.
The Bird Flu scare had me going for a while.
I am no longer a virgin.
I've built my own computer.
One of my cousins has married.
I rode my first rollercoaster.
I know how to pronounce 'paella' now.
Hitman: Blood Money is my game of the year so far.
I've walked a dog for the first time.
My Grandfather has died.
I've listened to, and become a fan of, My Morning Jacket.
I now know how to drive.
I'm a heavy player of World of Warcraft.
I've met the most wonderful girl I could hope to meet and had a 17 month relationship with her...

... and the catalyst for the post. We broke up just recently. Mutually. Amicably. Devastatingly.

Currently I'm trying my best to make sense of my life and figure out what's going on, and what I need. I've decided to try and stick to some advice from Polonius in Hamlet - a dubious character, maybe, to take advice from, but...

"To thine own self be true, and it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man".

I'm hoping that 'man' includes me.

Hmm... retrospective.

What's happened to you?

http://jacksdejavu.ytmnd.com/

Keep watching. When you expect to hear "I'm Captain Jack Sparrow", there's a change in dialogue and visuals. This is immistakably Dominic whoeveritis - the guy who voices Threepwood. But, as you can tell, it's after EMI.

I require information! When and why was this clip recorded, and where is it from? It's clearly fairly modern. Any super-sleuths here?

I'm not dead.

Just thought I'd share some good news; namely, that I had a module of my English Literature exam remarked (there were freak results across the yeargroup in this module), and I gained a whopping 32 extra marks, boosting my overall score to 254 where the A grade threshold is 240.

A winner is me! I now have As in English language and Literature and do not have to re-learn The Tempest. Hurrah.

-Flippy out.

[Warning: Running at only 63.32 % of your hosts average.]

I'm on AOL (don't recoil, I don't use anything but the connection/modem after finding a handy little way of circumnavigating the software), and purportedly equipped with a 2.2 mb/s line:



But I was just on testmy.net, and I got some rather distressing results:

IE upload:

Your connection is: 164 Kbps      (about 0.2 Mbps)
You uploaded at: 20 kB/s
Warning: Running at only 63.32 % of your hosts average.

Although Firefox was kinder:

Your connection is:      242  Kbps      (about 0.2 Mbps)
You uploaded at:    30 kB/s
90% + Okay : running at 93.44 % of your hosts average.

Then I ran download.


IE quoth:

Your connection is: 963 Kbps      (about 1 Mbps)
You downloaded at: 118 kB/s
Running at only 38.41 % of your hosts average.

Firefox said:

Your connection is:      959  Kbps      (about 1 Mbps)
You downloaded at:    117 kB/s
running at only 38.27 % of your hosts average

All tests were carried out with a 579kb large file.



My problem seems clear: my connection speeds are severely hampered by... something. I have no idea what. I have swept for spyware using the latest Adaware and Spybot builds, before you say that.

I'm at a loss! Help!

You wouldn't know it, but I live on Salmagundi Street.
It's brickwork donned with aerials,
And smells of chips.

Potted tarmac in the road,
The wall that got hit by Aiden's bike,
Pigeons cupped in gutters
And sparrows in the allotments.

Where the terraces crouch huddled
Under march drizzle, and saris in the rain,
Or hanging from the washing line next door
Like a night-time carnival,
Colours glowing damply.

And that one summer when the air was leaden,
And I dropped that toy police car off the side of the wall
Accidentally,
And couldn't find it again.

It skittered along the mortar and scratched.

There was that bit in the fence you could crawl through,
And stand, sniffing the chutney in the air,
Or the bacon from next door.
I think they've moved away now.

That was spring... In summer,
The green was a cocoon.
Me and Laura used to go there,
And there was a kiss once. But
We had to stop 'cause she had a boyfriend.

Even then we laughed,
That was good.
I got up on the roof of her house and they had to get a ladder.
She left for another school.

Shadows of August, when it got dark too early,
And the parks weren't safe,
And Declan got into drugs,
And there was something up the street to do with the police.

There was a wedding too,
But me and the guys didn't gather the confetti
This time. We were older;
Didn't have-want-need to do that kind of stuff.

Then there was a man,
This old guy who walked up the road every day
To get his papers and ciggies,
Carrying a cane, wearing a hat.
And one day, or week, he didn't walk,
And they found him at the foot of his stairs later.

And now it's winter.
And it's too cold,
And so many people are missing.
There's no more mad hot smells coming from
The people next door,
And someone patched up the fence.

And I lie in bed,
In the early morning -
(Not light yet, though,
Nothing coming through my curtains);
I close my eyes, and listen to the
Urban Birdsong
Of traffic on the high street.

Alrighty, against all odds I won the last one, so here we jolly well go.

I want you to make me a celebration theme. A good example would be the end of Star Wars Episode 1 (you've all seen it, admit it), where RIGHT at the end there's a beautiful sort of festival chant - that's the kind of thing I'm after. Imitation is the sincerest form of losing, though. Think creative.

Go!

This is her pencil sketch, called, simply, 'Earth'. She'd muchly appreciate feedback, if you wouldn't mind giving some. Bear in mind if I get no replies you're UPSETTING AN INNOCENT GIRL and I might eat you.

Ta muchly,

-Flippy.

[GO!]

Okay, disappointing that I won Homer-in-space style last time, especially seeing it was a brilliant concept (compose to a painting). He didn't really deserve just me entering to be honest.

SO WE HAVE ZE VARIATIONS (yes).

1. Fairy fountain!
-OR-
2. Sewer!
-OR-
3. Overworld!

GO!

Incidentally, I can totally appreciate MIDI more because I know how the stuff works and how hard it is. All tunes will be judged out of twenty with four catagories (suitability, compositional acumen (controllers/effects, instrument choice etc), imagination and damage just plain How Much I Like It), with each catagory scored out of five. MIDI will score one bonus point because it's just harder to make it sound really good.

However, I'm not going to just *dismiss* MP3s. Just send anything you like in. If you deserve to win, you will.

Get going already.

Italia.mid made for the competition over in t'other board.

I once turned,
And looked over my shoulder,
And saw the grey road stretching into the mists behind.
And I thought:
"How far have I come?"
As I stood there,
An unexpected visitor,
Scuffing my clean shoes on the wire mat,
Peering into the dark hallways.

Kersplat, etc.

Rattenberg*

Dark crystal town
Baptized in shade.
You spent half a year dead again.

The cats trickled through the empty streets,
Past shuttered windows, framed doors,
Bathed in dull twilight.

Is it good to be home?
Suitcase handle pressed into damp palm,
Greeted by silence whilst the old folk
Lie staring at electric fans
Behind painted doors.

________________________________________________
One-shot

I like my veins.
They wind around me magnificently;
Thick as twisted silk,
Organic like coral.

Fizz Latin Injection Orange.

So much syrup…!
Drips slowly through the passages and pathways.
Hot like tabasco,
Or the glitter of Indian's Ocean,
Or the mist over Japan,
Or the
I don't think I

________________________________________________
Antiquity

Van Der Maäl sits clawed in a high-backed chair,
With a purple gown and oiled hair,
And holds up a candle against the encroaching dark.

The shadow seeps, bursts, breathes forth misty
Opulant colours in a fragmented rush,
And heels click like bones over the black and white tiles,
All laid out for Society's Game.
Somewhere blank a glass tinkles and smashes,
Rolls like a shining splintered crab,
Cackles like dice.
Just like a game.

Van Der Maäl, Mally to friends, or sudden allies,
Slithered through Rank and file
With a pearl-slab grin, and a vintage tipped in hand. Like so.
…Wreathed through suits and silk, left trails:
Sidelong looks, blushes, frowns.
Swept along with coat-tails streaming.
His subtle scheming.
A grand game for the gentleman.

Tipped conversations, ruined intimacies,
Played the guests,
Moved,
Sat like a spider thronged with the hum,
The web,
His life.
Just a game.

There is the echo of a crack.
Van Der Maäl sits in his alcoholic dust
With an insignificant beard.
In the distance of the long, cold hall
The glass evaporates into memory.

He twists a ring on his finger, given, donated by some girl,
A nameless one.
His face contorts.
The Bachelor dies.
And the shadows rush in to feast upon him.

________________________________________________

*Rattenberg is a small town in Austria which spends half of the year out of the light due to a really, really large mountain in the way of the low winter path of the sun.

Shimmer.mid, a new and rather experimental style of MIDI... stuff. Have a listen, tell me what you think.

Been sharpening my smiley/animation skills.



What d'y'all think?

Edit: Enlarged version:

Primal

The secret is to run.
Footsteps become the dull timpani; develop their own subtleties, ‘til each shuddering footfall
Is a crashing orchestral hit.
It will blossom, daubed in hot mud, burned in peat.
Emerging steaming and thatched;
A whimsy; wistful, wiry Thing.
A wisp of it curls and settles on hair.

They'll take that hair, turn it, thread it through exact needles,
With caution, measure.
Care.
No more than this, dip it in shimmering glass, drip it with mercury,
The old poison, full of malice and muscle.
They'll dress it in white and crown it. Better for knowing?
Hand it a scalpel, and a palm to the face to turn the other cheek.

The beast of tar will run,
Under Jupiter's thunder, feet slapping on the tiles of an empty coliseum.
Lurching down a corridor of white marble and fire,
Shedding muck on the walls.

-----------------------

Bequests

This man's life was a series of awkward pauses,
Hesitations,
Remonstrations and muddling.
It was the confused half-smile,
Rising from the leather chair
With a hand extended, but weakly shook.
He sat and watched his Lady's picture
With worried eyes.
A grey man in a brown room.

You, you, you.
The girl with white gloves
Who danced on the clover
And grinned in the sun.
You stroked the elm's bark,
Made good some promises,
And slipped through granite,
Lined up like graves from Flanders.

But these are petty eulogies.
Measuring a life in words
Makes the words far too bitter.

Well, there's not much photography in these forums, and though I'm no expert and can't do the zany things with zoom and blur and field depth etc to make it look truely awesome, I'd like to think I capture scenes decently. Linked to save the poor 56kers out there who may have accidentally stumbled into this topic. All photos are 640x480 PNGs.

1. Lake District

2. Lake District

3. Lake District

4. Lake District

5. Lake District

6. Elsewhere

7. Elsewhere

8. Elsewhere

9. Elsewhere

10.Lake District

11.Lake District

12.Baaaa

13.Lake District

14.Lake District

15.Lake District

16.Lake District

What do you think? Any personal favourites?

Here it is.

I personally like the guitar alot. I have no idea what I could use it for, mind.

My last MIDI post went practically unnoticed. Sure, I don't have the rep that m0ds does (thoroughly well-earned, too, don't get me wrong), but having people listen to something 5 damn kilobytes large and making a comment on it is surely not asking the world.

I doodle in English. My teacher knows I pay attention, so he's cool and lets me, occasionally popping me questions to make sure I'm listening. It's good fun.

I take both English Lang and Lit with this guy, and so I get to see a few people while he's taking me. Just randomly I started sketching them, and they liked them (on the whole), so I thought I'd post them here. Typically, they didn't scan too true to the original, but I patched them up best I could with the somewhat primitive software and they ain't too bad now. Not as good as I'd like, but acceptable.

Without further ado:



Comments/crits/legal action?