from Bjorn Rides | gravel rides en fiets routes

September, de duisternis valt steeds vroeger, avondritjes zijn bijna niet meer mogelijk, maar gelukkig dienen zich dan de eerste veldtoertochten aan. Vrijwel iedere dorp rondom Breda heeft zijn eigen tocht op een vaste zondagochtend in de herfst of wintermaanden. Helaas zijn dit jaar vrijwel alle veldtoertochten afgelast. Dit is de eerste route uit onze serie DIY veldtoertochten. Dit zijn geen evenementen(!), maar routes die je zelf op ieder gewenst moment kunt rijden.

De route begint bij Kamu, nabij het centrum van Breda en voert je richting het bosgebied rondom Ulvenhout. Via onverharde paden en singletracks in de Chaamse Bossen kom je uit bij recreatiepark 't Zand bij Alphen, hier liggen diverse mooie singletracks. Via Alphen en Baarle-Nassau fiets je over landwegen en bospaden terug richting Breda. De route is geschikt voor de mountainbike, crosser of gravelbike.

Deze route downloaden?

De route ten zuiden van Breda is te downloaden via Komoot. Geen Komoot? Stuur mij dan een bericht op social media, dan stuur ik de route naar je toe.


from jarrett moffatt

Sprawling on the fringes of the city In geometric order An insulated border In between the bright lights And the far unlit unknown

Growing up it all seems so one-sided Opinions all provided The future pre-decided Detached and subdivided In the mass production zone Nowhere is the dreamer or the misfit so alone

— Rush, “Subdivisions,” Signals, 1982


from Data law bytes

F.T.C. v. Wyndham gave the power of enforcing cybersecurity in the United States to the hands of the Federal Trade Commission. The Third Circuit of the United States Court of Appeals held that Wyndham violated the


Act when they deceived their customers about their cybersecurity measures. Following a number of data breaches against Wyndham’s systems, thousands of guests of Wyndham suffered fraudulent financial charges.

An overview

Wyndham is a company running hotels throughout the U.S. At the time of the breaches, each hotel was part of a property management system that processed sensitive guest information; this information comprised “names, home addresses, email addresses, telephone numbers, payment card account numbers, expiration dates, and security codes.”* Starting in April 2008, attackers broke into the local network of one of Wyndham’s hotels in Phoenix, Arizona. This computer, like those in other hotels, was connected to Wyndham’s central hub of their property management system. The attackers used brute-force methods—i.e., “repeatedly guessing user’s login IDs and passwords”*—to access an administrator account on Wyndham’s network. By doing this, the attackers then were able to access customer information stored on the network. The attackers stole unencrypted information of “over 5000,000 accounts, which they [then ]sent to a domain in Russia.”* In March 2009, Wyndham suffered another attack. This time, the attackers easily accessed Wyndham’s network with the administrative account they previously obtained. They then stole unencrypted payment card information of thousands of consumers. Wyndham’s network was breached yet again later in 2009. The attackers accessed even more payment card information by stealing information of “approximately 69,000 customers from the property management systems of 28 hotels.”* Wyndham didn’t learn about these incidents until January 2010, when a credit card company received many complaints from cardholders about fraudulent charges they were receiving. Following these fraudulent charges, the


brought suit against Wyndham alleging, among other things, that Wyndham:

  1. practiced deceptive practices by allowing its hotels to store payment card information in unencrypted form,
  2. Wyndham didn’t monitor its network for malware,
  3. allowed easy access to its passwords,
  4. didn't employ reasonable security measures like firewalls, and
  5. failed to restrict unauthorized access to its networks. Due to 619,000 customers being affected, fraudulent charges led to a loss of 10.6 million USD.

As a consequence, the


further argued that the customers suffered financial injury by expending time and effort to resolve these issues.

So the


can regulate cybersecurity now?

Section 5 of the


Act gives the


great power to prevent deceptive trade practices. Wyndham argued whether this even applied to cybersecurity. They also argued that, even if the


did have the authority, Wyndham wasn’t given fair notice that their cybersecurity measures fell short of the


’s standards, as required by due process. They claimed that practices are “unfair” only if they’re marked by injustice, partiality, or deception.* Wyndham reasoned this was so because they didn’t engage in unfair practices per their own privacy policy. The Third Circuit, however, disagreed with Wyndham; they said a “company does not act equitably when it publishes a privacy policy to attract customers who are concerned about data privacy, fails to make good on that promise by investing inadequate resources in cybersecurity, exposes its unsuspecting customers to substantial financial injury, and retains the profits of their business.”* Wyndham alleged they didn’t receive notice of what specific cybersecurity practices were necessary to avoid liability. The court countered that “[f]air notice is satisfied here as long as the company can reasonably foresee that a court could construe its conduct as falling within the meaning of the statute.”* In fact, the


previously advised businesses on how to establish security practices: in 2007, they published a manual called “Protecting Personal Information: A Guide for Business,” which contained several recommendations for basic security measures. The guidebook “described a data security plan ‘checklist’ for companies to follow. The guidebook encouraged practices like data encryption, strong passwords, and the use of firewalls that Wyndham failed to implement; the guidebook therefore could have helped Wyndham determine in advance that the


would view its data security measures as inadequate.”*

The court’s holding

In the end, the Third Circuit held that the


indeed has power to regulate data security through the “unfair” and “deceptive” practices definitions dictated in § 5.*. It’s this power that gave the


the authority to enforce data security practices in the U.S., and it began only in 2015. It’s a new power, sure, but a power that hasn’t dwindled. Breaches have come long before Wyndham, they have come in the years since, they will continue to come, and the


will continue enforcing basic security standards whenever possible.

Works cited


from davepolaschek

Raven on top of a post

While waking up this morning, we heard a knocking on the roof. There were a couple ravens doing something up there.

One of them flew over to the top of the post holding the birdhouse and proceeded to eat something. Not sure what it was.

Raven on the ground

Then a couple other ravens started flying around, and the one from the birdhouse flew to the ground to finish his meal in peace.

Three ravens in a juniper

Once he was done, he flew to the juniper in our yard, where he was joined by another raven. And then a bird one flew up and there was a bit of a scuffle before all three of them flew off to somewhere else. It was fun to watch them.

#photography #birb


from 3d bits

I have been thinking about getting a second 3d printer for some time now. There are a couple of reasons for it:

  1. My current printer reached extreme Frankenstein levels which makes getting information on how to fix issues extremely difficult.
  2. Since it is still based on a lot of parts from the Anet A8, I fully expect it to break at some point and it is great to always have a backup so that you can, if needed, print yourself out of a hole.
  3. The hobbyist 3d printer space has made enormous leaps since the early RepRap days until 2016 when I got the Anet A8, but since 2016, especially the low cost printer market has evolved quite rapidly. The “Aluminium plus roller” linear movement design has taken the world by storm and made it much easier to build a very simple, cheap printer.

I always toyed with the idea of getting a real Prusa3D printer eventually and I still might at some point, but right now I was mostly intrigued by the good reviews the Ender 3 V2 got from so many respected people. Creality has had a rocky past, but I guess the relentless pushing by the community and the extremely effective outreach work (in both directions) by Naomi “Sexy Cyborg” Wu seems to have had a pretty incredible impact on how well these printers are now constructed and how they prevent many of the shortcomings of a lot of cheap printers.

So, I got myself an Ender 3 V2. It was on sale at which is increasingly becoming my all-3d-printing-needs watering hole. Because I knew I didn't want to manually level the bed on this printer too often, I ordered a BLTouch with it and the needed cables. Yes, this breaks Naomi's 100 hours rule, which I think is super useful, but this seems a very common mod, so I'm probably ok.

2016 me would be super jealous of this printer. Yes, this was almost 100 EUR more expensive than the 139 EUR I paid for the Anet A8, but the experience of assembling the printer in under an hour and having a successful print on first try (in, dare I say, amazing quality) was really surprising to me.

I did add the BLTouch right away (and started to add a filament runout sensor, but that's a bit hard to attach, so it will need some extra work) and since I was lazy, I am using the Smith3D firmware. At some point I will try to use my own Marlin build, but I didn't have the time to do the diffs to figure out what exactly Smith3D was changing. (I feel like this is a problem of the Marlin community right now that it's so hard to keep track of the changes and keep your configurations up to date while keeping track of the Marlin releases.)

I will add a couple of the obvious mods, like some filament guides and at some point I need to rewire the tinned (At least I think they still do that) wires of the power electronics and I've already ordered a RaspberryPi 3B+ (I think a Pi 4 is actually overkill for Octoprint) to be able to run Octoprint and the Spaghetti Detective on it. As soon as that's all done, I think I will more or less leave that printer alone and then my hope is that I can learn from the Ender3 and the settings that make this such a surprisingly reliable printer and start to optimise my little Frankenprinter. On paper, this machine should be quite superior, with the Hemera, but I do have massive issues right now with any form of overhangs and I can't seem to figure out what's going on, so that's something I definitely look forward to.

All in all, I'm quite happy that for a little more than 200 EUR you can now get a printer that is not a fire risk, is easy to assemble and actually produces extremely good results from print one.


from The White Magician



One must perform diligence under to his Innermost. Diligence is the narrow path which leads to life. There are four types of behaviors in regards of diligence; three of them are abominable vices, yet one is pure and innocent. They are procrastinator, yes-man, slacker, and prioritizer.

The procrastinator is the person who procrastinates. To procrastinate means two things. One definition of procrastination is “to put off doing something, especially out of habitual carelessness or laziness”. The second definition of procrastination is “to postpone or delay needlessly”. Procrastination is putting aside important works, which we must accomplish in our lives, for our abominable vices of the laziness devil. A procrastinator is never in the now. He who procrastinate is prone to cramming, which is to hastily finish his important task at the last possible time.

The yes-man is a person who agrees with everything that is said, especially supporting or endorsing without criticism every opinion or proposal of an associate or a superior. A yes-man is also a person “who always agrees with his superiors, regardless of personal conviction”. To the yes-men, be warned: A foolish faith in authority, including your earthly superiors, is your greatest enemy of truth. In addition, it is already too dangerous to simply follow anyone who is imperfect. Anyone who simply follows anyone imperfect is potentially a yes-man. A yes-man is how one (out of foolish faith) sells his soul to the devil, regardless of one's personal consequences. A yes-man has no consciousness awakened; a yes-man's consciousness is bottled up asleep by his psychological devils to agree and believe whatever the diabolical superiors wanted him to agree with. A yes-man has no self-reliance, even he thinks he is self-reliant or independent. A yes-man is a blind follower of his external superiors other than his Innermost. A yes-man himself is an idol worshiper.

A slacker is the one who deliberately and willingly evades, or shirks, work or responsibility. A slacker is also the one who refuses to perform service unto his Innermost for his abominable vice of laziness. A slacker himself is also known for his stubbornness refusal to sacrifice himself unto others. We now know that slacking is the antithesis of diligence, and a synonym for true laziness. He who rejects diligence is indeed a true slacker. For the slacker, his residence is the Abyss. Slacking is a thousand times more abominable than both procrastination and yes-man.

The prioritizer is the person who prioritizes. To prioritize means three things. One, to prioritize is “to arrange or deal with in order of importance.” Two, to prioritize is “to treat or consider as of greater importance than other matters.” And finally, to prioritize is “to put things in order of importance.” The keyword is importance. It is important to begin his true awakening of his consciousness. The prioritizer is indeed truly and consciously awakened. Only a prioritizer is self-reliant. Self-reliance does not mean complete independence from everything; self-reliance only means to be independent under the service of one's Innermost. Only a prioritizer is internally and externally organized. Only a prioritizer follows his Innermost.

The prioritizer is the only type that does not fit in with the sinning “I”. Then in the name of truth, the prioritizer is morally hated by the sinning “I”. The prioritizer is a misfit among the legions of the sinning “I”. Even a slacker would be extremely jealous of a prioritizer's success in life. Even a yes-man would be extremely jealous of a prioritizer's self-reliance. Even a procrastinator would be extremely jealous of a prioritizer's calming demeanor in his timing of task completion. The prioritizer is the only one in the group who is diligent. The awareness of the prioritizer is now. The now is the moment of time between the past and the future. Saying today, tomorrow, or in the future is not enough. The now is the present time of the prioritizer. For one to be a prioritizer, one must kill jealousy of a prioritizer and laziness via internal comprehension. The time to be a prioritizer is now...



from artdesignlimassol

Limassol Harbor: a liminal space where anxieties and hopes for modern Cyprus meet.

Ports and harbors are places that unite differences in time and space. They are places where an encounter with the Other happens. Traditionally, harbors were places of meeting, interaction, conversation, transactions and conflict.

People of different cultural backgrounds, and of different socio-economic statuses, different beliefs and because of different reasons meet within the space of harbors. The sea and the water can be perceived as the fluid interaction between identities and between different perspectives that remain fluid and are perpetually formed but never result in a final form.

What drives their energy is the hopes and anxieties of the people that interact and the people that come and go.

Therefore, we can perceive harbors as temporal and spatial liminal spaces. Sea works as an endless fluid plain onto which the new is born, and old dies perpetually. Sea is the place where anxiety and hope meet and structure a narrative about historical change and cultural transformation within society. Peaceful encounters and clashes happen, people are reunited, and people’s bonds are broken. Harbors are the nodes between different temporal and spatial states in history.

Cyprus harbors are primarily filled with these dynamics. Cyprus’s location within the eastern Mediterranean worked as a place of peaceful encounters as well as conflicts among different populations. Below, we see two different viewpoints on the Limassol harbor, that, as we propose, they enclose the ironies and the paradoxes of the modern Cyprus.

Those left behind, Limassol by Michael Michaelides: the anxiety of the modern

The painting “those left behind, Limassol” (1950-51) by the Greek Cypriot artist Michael Michaelides is a reference to the migration of (mostly) the male population of Cyprus to Europe, Australia, and America during the first post-World War II era. The picture depicts the Limassol harbor and represents women and children saying goodbye to their friends and relatives migrating. On the horizon, ships are sailing away as we can distinguish through the smoke that comes out of their funnels. At first glance, we can say that the painting is a dry realist snapshot of the Limassol harbor during the mid-20th century, without any social commentary.

If we look closely, though, we can distinguish that Michaelides uses a kind of latent expressionism by using the light, which says much more than what we can explicitly read in the painting. Firstly, the light is diffused all over the painting, creating a sense of a melancholic stillness. Even though the painting is luminous, it is evenly lighted, lacking contrast, creating a sense of dullness. The dull, eerie silence and the feeling of serene numbness are hiding a much more profound sorrow. The observer senses that as a melancholic whisper or a silent lament. Expanding our thinking to the work of Michaelides, we can formulate that the painting works as a reference to the socio-economic structure that the Cypriot society was about to encounter. Mass migration, economic struggle, and a need to adapt to the modern socio-economic structure. Modernism came to Cyprus during the British colonial times and transformed the socio-economic structure of the island. The substantially agricultural economy of the island was rapidly evolving into a modern urban economy that would eventually characterize the post-1970s era. If we look closely at the people’s uniform, we can distinguish that the people depicted are of low socio-economic background (probably coming from the surrounding villages) reinforcing the view that the picture has a socio-political commentary. Michael Michaelides, Those Left Behind, Limassol, Oil on wood, 1950-51. Nicosia: A.G. Leventis Gallery

Also, by knowing that Limassol is a city on the southern coasts of Cyprus, we can distinguish by the shadow that the sunlight falls from the west. Therefore, in the painting, the sun is on its course to set, when the ships depart behind the horizon. A new life will begin tomorrow for those who leave and those who are left behind. The sea also works as a metaphor in the painting, with reference to both: fear for the unknown and the hope for opportunity: an unformulated, fluid new reality filled with a silent anxiety. Through that reference, Michaelides captures the first anxieties embedded in a transitional phase within the Cypriot society.

Therefore, the pessimistic gaze of Michaelides on those left behind also denotes a pessimist outlook on the new socio-economic reality of Cyprus. The urban population is now bound to a dichotomy between those who control socio-economic structures and those who need to adapt in order to survive. As such, Michaelides’s work is mainly a political work that focuses on the first post-colonial socio-economic reality that Cyprus was about to enter. Through his work, does not divide the population of Cyprus ethnically. Instead, he critically emphasizes the emotional outcome of new and implicit segregation happening in the local community, that can be defined only socio-economically. This is also denoted in the depiction of the wooden material on the right of the painting, which connotes that somewhere in the harbor, people are working to build modern Cyprus. The wooden surfaces are raised and gradually hide and threaten to mute the people’s sorrow on the left part of the painting.

Harbor of Limassol by Salih Oral: The ironic fragmentation of the modern

In the artwork, Harbor of Limassol by the Turkish Cypriot painter Salih Oral in the 1960s, we can see a colorful painting of the harbor of Limassol. On the left half of the work, we can observe multiple rectangular forms that come together to depict buildings, and on the lower part of the painting, we can observe the harbor’s water, being still and calm. On the lower right position, we can perceive fishermen boats coming out of a rectangular form, while behind them, there are depicted some bigger boats, probably small yachts. On the right side of the artwork, we can distinguish the harbor’s warehouses that existed until the 2010s. The dominant shape in the form is that of the rectangle. Also, the lack of linear perspective in the painting reminds medieval depictions of cities such as The Effects of Good Government in Siena, but it also gives the impression of vertical development of the composition that may have a more in-depth, conceptual meaning, that we examine below.

The vertical development of the composition can be a reference to the modernist need to expand cities in height, by building multistory buildings. This reference to the modern is not only depicted by the impression of multistory buildings, but also through its reference to futurist aesthetics. The buildings on the left of the picture seem tall, enlightened, and modern, and overall, the image gives off the idea that it depicts a modern city diffused with energy and light. The orange-yellow colors of fire contradict the dominant blue and green colors that give the impression of nighttime. Also, the edgy shapes of the boats create a feeling of a diffused “energy” in an otherwise calm night. Therefore, we can say that on a more profound reading, Oral’s depiction of Limassol’s harbor is a reference to the modern. On an even deeper level, we can say that Oral’s artwork encloses all the anxieties and hopes of the modern in Cyprus. In order to see that, we must look into the painting’s subject that is the depiction of Limassol’s harbor.
Salih Oral, Harbor of Limassol, c.1960, Oil on canvas

In the work of Oral, we can distinguish a different cultural property of the harbors. The harbor, here, can be perceived as a space that binds multiple cultural realities together. A place in time and space where different cultures and people meet and converse. Different forms and different colors come together to form a composition that resembles a collage or a mosaic, as a reference to the coexistence of multiple cultural backgrounds in the port’s space.

But, would those different aspects exist outside of the modern condition?

If we take Oral’s painting as having a critical gaze towards the modern, we can say that the almost cubist fragmentation of the forms I the artwork denotes a more pessimistic outlook towards the modern. Modern Cyprus is divided by nationalities and by religious beliefs, all existent in its declaration of independence. Therefore, the unification in diversity that the painting implies might also be an ironic manifestation of cultural fragmentation that never existed in the “pre-modern” Cyprus. The initial optimist outlook that modernism binds all differences together is just a hollow promise because differences would not exist outside of the modern context in the first place.

It is in this critical way we must also read the socio-political commentary embedded within the artwork.

As such, we can consider the “cubist” element, with the dominant rectangular shapes within the artwork, as an attempt to connote, again, the multiple situations that exist within the harbor’s space: Travelers with different socio-economic backgrounds use the area of the harbor: people with different socio-economic status; some use it to leave the country as migrants, while others use it for tourism while others use it for their daily jobs as fishermen.

Consequently, we hope that the harbor can initially be a place of meeting or a space of coexistence between people among different backgrounds, but, instead, it is a place of separation.

In the same reference, the city that ascends on the left part of the composition seems like a barrier or a wall that separates rather than unite. Likewise, the water of the harbor does not look like water, but it looks more like ice or concrete. In other words, it lost its liquid property and transformed into a solid, impenetrable body onto which the city ascends as a wall.

It is this anxiety of the modern; the modern identities, and the modern way of fragmenting the world, that is expressed within the irony of the painting: through the paradox of the solid water and the unified fragmentation.


from Ronald Steegstra

Het wordt zo langzamerhand een moeilijk verhaal

Weer een dag voor volledig scherm entertainment, kijk naar je medemens met behulp gecodeerde en gedecodeerde digi taal, cookies erbij. Neem een kijkje voor of achter de schermen en vermaak u zelf met uitgesproken informatie. Lees de ondertiteling, volg u protagonist met de camera van een ander, hoor een dialoog! een dialoog! zeg ik u. Ha ha ha een grappig bedoelde opmerking.. voor de zekerheid is hier de lach band, spelen maar Hier is de Lach Band met op trompet Tom Petty, op staande bas Bas en op hangende bas Bassie, op trommel Dik (Trommel dus) op toetsen Toots en de hilarische altijd vrolijk of angstige vocalen het koor van de Lachers op de Hand onder leiding van de beste lach dirigent van dit moment James Lach-het Last. Toe maar weer en door met het verhaal waar gaan we het dit keer over hebben, nou nou, ik dacht weer een variatie van een bijbelse, koraanse of toraanse vertelling iets met veel moraal en weinig biologie. Niks natuurlijks maar wel veel woorden in de juiste volgorde vanzelluf. Zodat u uiteindelijk weer weet ik ben een kindeke van God Allah Jahweh en dergelijke, niet een zaadje en een eitje die toevallig samen kwamen en uit moeder werden geperst en op de wereld kwamen en toen opeens taal en rekenen moesten leren van de cultuur, niet fluiten als vogels, niet zwemmen als vissen, nee op de stoel en zitten en luisteren naar de onderwijzer en doen zoals u ouders deden, taal leren voor een gebed, voor de handel in goederen, voor de wet.. allemaal onder die woorden gebracht die u heeft geleerd, u wees naar bank en ja zeiden pappa en mamma, toen ze nog samen waren.. heel goed dat is een bank, en dat daar dan televisie! Prachtig wat een genie is ons kind en dat daar ? Computer o o o ons kind is hoogbegaafd. Hij kent de computer al van haver tot gort. Ho ho zegt het kind wat is haver en wat is gort?

Laten we voortgaan met de vertelling en ons niet druk maken over haver en gort. De protagonist is onderweg naar gevaar dat kunt u zien en vooral horen, de belichting wordt iets anders afgesteld, de camera man neemt een andere positie aan de protagonist kijkt zoals hij denkt dat bang er uit ziet. In beeld natuurlijk anders heeft het geen enkele zin voor dit spannende verhaal over moord liefde en doodslag en erfenis en afval. Heel bijbels natuurlijk, uiteindelijk is er berouw, schuld, boete, investeringen in wapens en kookboeken van Jamie. De held is op zoek naar het slachtoffer en dader.

Laten we maar even kennis maken met het slachtoffer

Hallo bent u daar

Slachtoffer – Ja zeker ik sta nog onder de douche maak me klaar voor een gewapende overval en dan wordt ik door hem daar gekidnapt en zo

Ah leuk u zo samen te treffen, dader en slachtoffer gezellig in de kleedkamer van deze low budget cult film wannabe movie, en u gaat haar dus ongewild meenemen naar een plek waar de zon niet vaak schijnt?

Dader – u zegt het, ik denk het wel maar het script zal uitwijzen of de zon daar wel of niet vaak schijnt voor het spanningselement is het waarschijnlijk wel handy dat het donkerder is dan het nu licht is. Volgens de regels doe ik veel dingen die het licht niet kunnen verdragen.

Neen zeer zeker niet u bent een dader uit het oude boek, excuus de oudere boeken, u bent een heiden, filistijn, indiaan, neger, boef, jood, zigeuner, homo, vrouw, mongool, christen, asielzoeker, albino, de soldaat van de verliezende kant, u bent het kwaad van dit moment zelve, zeg maar het corona virus onder de overige ziekten

Dader – Zo bout wil ik het niet stellen maar inderdaad.

Slachtoffer – Ik ben inderdaad zoals beschreven in mijn rol een onschuldige burger in dit land en wordt door dat gemene virus bij de kladden genomen en gemarteld, ik beland op een vervelende locatie in een stad waar zalen wit zijn en licht juist hel. Maar de waarheid is wel dat het een duistere plek is ondanks al dat aanwezige licht of juist door al dat kunst licht en kunst matig gemaakte materie

o we zijn weer terug bij de Protagonist, Prot genaamd. Prot komt nabij de plek waar de dader nee zelfs daders bijeenkomen en het slachtoffer zoals zij zeggen niet kidnappen maar behandelen met liefde en zorg, zo noemen ze het kwaad nu, dan valt het niet zo op, zoals VOC oorlogsschepen Liefde heten zo noemen deze daders zich goed, ter goeder trouw, lieve mensen die elkaar helpen met in leven blijven voor de economie, hun eigen wel te verstaan, zodat je meer geld kunt uitgeven, langer kunt blijven werken in kunstmatige werk omgeving, verslaafd kunt raken aan beeldschermen en wifi, veel alcoholische dranken kunt drinken met als enige doel drinken, en op die manier iets maken dat door moet gaan voor enter tainment, ver maak, daarom arresteren ze al die mensen in busjes met vol alarm en rijden ze met veel lawaai hun gevangenis tegemoet. Het slachtofferhuis en zo van de ene dader in de andere, beiden met een doel u geld en tijd en leven de een wil het bekorten of moeielijk maken en de ander moet daar dan aan verdienen.

Prot komt terecht in de hel belichte wereld van de daders en meldt zich bij de entree Balie en zegt tegen zo'n nare boef 'Ik zoek mijn slachtoffer heeft u deze gezien?' U naam is? Prot zegt Prot

Balie – Wie zoekt u?

Ik zoek De Bevolking ze is gekidnapt door een busje met mannen en vrouwen in witte pakken en overal plastic en dat IT spul. Ze reden er met haar vandaan en verdwenen toen volgens het script zo een beeldscherm in en daar bleven ze, ze werd afgevoerd naar gene zijde en getransporteerd via kabels en afstandsbediening en ik liep er achter aan en kwam toen via kanalen, journalisten en overige pers en zenders en weet ik veel wat allemaal hier bij u en deze entree.

Balie – Vreselijk u zult wel moe zijn zegt de man vrouw bij de balie neemt u plaats ik zal De Bevolking voor u vinden. De locatie is moeilijk te bepalen maar waarschijnlijk zit ze vast op de intensive care in handen van bekwaam personeel met maar liefst 6 jaar opleiding en vaak wel 10 of veel meer jaren werkervaring in ieder geval op papier en af te zien door de salarisstroken.

Prot – Salarisstroken? U krijgt inkomen door het kwaad? Dit is allemaal legaal.

Balie – Natuurlijk we hebben hier hard voor geknokt, we moeten mensen constant vertellen hoe ziek ze zijn en wat ze moeten laten doen en dat ze op moeten letten voor ons gevaar en dan raken ze in paniek en hoppa, u bent in een hel verlicht wit gebouw en krijgt vrijwillige begeleiding door dit immense bouwwerk vol wit gejaste mensen met inktzwart betaalde harten. Die dagelijks kijken hoe ziek u bent of hoeveel beter, De Bevolking zoals u zegt is meegevoerd in verband met een door hun opgemerkt kwaad in de vorm van een onzichtbaar verschijnsel waar ze koorts van krijgen en soms als ze oud en zwak zijn ziek van worden en niet van herstellen maar weet wij doen er alles aan.

Prot – Ik weet het daarom ben ik hier ook, ga aan de kant ik heb een automatisch wapen, mijn hersenen in mijn nog grotere bijna atoom wapen het lijf!

Balie – Bukken mensen deze Prot is gewapend, vlucht, ren met je leven!!!

Prot rent door het gebouw op zoek naar de IC en rent en rent langs de rode lijn naar de IC hij kijkt en mensen duiken weg, vooral daders kijken verschrikt en duiken weg in hun witte jassen, sommige scheuren hun labels af en zeggen nee nee ik ben geen daders, jas uit en dan zijn ze weer slachtoffer, het is lastig voor Prot er zit geen verschil zonder witte jas tussen dader en slachtoffer. Hij is op IC en kijkt de deuren over, hij tikt naar binnen, de deuren slaan wijd open zoals in een western film saloon, hij vraagt om whiskey bij Balie 2.

Balie 2 – Wij schenken alleen alcohol aan wit jassen niet aan Slachtoffers en aanhang.

Prot kijkt Balie 2 aan en die verzinkt weg in een diepe depressie in haar draaistoel. Plop. Verdwenen uit het verhaal en helemaal zonder een goede reden. Prot maakt het niks uit hij komt De Bevolking redden uit handen van de Intensive Care, hij moet wetten overtreden op de trap naar de bovenste verdieping van de Care, dit is wel heel intens, ik kom bijna klaar. Nee Prot komt klaar zo intens is deze redding. Het publiek houdt de adem in de muziek zwelt aan o o o oooooh en zo trekken ze zich af en vingeren voor het scherm terwijl een enorme orgie bezig is door wit jassen en slachtoffers, allemaal naakt en niemand kan zien wie wat is... behalve Prot hij sleept alle daders van de slachtoffers af en wist ze uit, weg zijn ze, geen administratie meer, de jassen lossen op, salaris verdwijnt, de helft van de boten in Nl. drijft nu zonder eigenaar in een haven, reizen naar Azië en Afrika missen de helft van hun deelnemers, de i-phone verliest het van de ouderwetse Nokia, het is overal beter, de wereld knapt zienderogen op De Bevolking komt even bij van deze vreemde neuk partij met onbekende verdwenen Daders, ze vegen zichzelf schoon, wassen geslachtsdelen, lijven, Prot gaat maar even zitten bij een koffie automaat, in een voormalige wachtkamer vol schermen en zicht op Balie en mensen die nu nergens meer op wachten, ze zijn misschien wel ziek maar wat kan het ze in vredesnaam schelen, over de vloer kruipen nog vage schepselen die zeggen u heeft kanker, u bent ziek, ik kan u helpen in dit hel verlichte gebouw maar het is niet meer verlicht, de wezens worden uitgedrukt met de bal van de voet. Je kunt ze horen knappen onder de voet zoals zo'n wit besje. Het lijkt op kapot knijpen van bubblewrap.

Prot drinkt het smerige bocht uit de automaat en loopt uit de niet langer wachtkamer van het nutteloos verlichte enorme gebouw, de vrijwilligers lopen als dwazen rond, hun reden voor bestaan staat een moment onder druk, ze willen het liefst in een pil of zalf kruipen, verband om doen, maar net op tijd komen ze bij hun positieven en lopen naar huis, sommigen fietsen zelfs.

Zoets dan maar.

Heb ik dat al niet eens eerder gelezen geschreven aan het begin van mijn loopbaan om de aarde, van a tot z een herhaling ik lijk wel een media. Iets voor verzending en uitzending, iets dat draait om zijn eigen as, Geloof komt aanvaren en knalt de Liefde van de tegenstander aan gort, Hoop draait de zeilen bij en knalt Hoop kapot. Friendly fire.

De piraten kijk er naar en denken vreemd volk, wegwezen! De ab originals drinken hun tijd om en wachten tot het zootje ongeregeld dat hun land even is komen bewonen klaar is met spelen met zichzelf. Terug gaan naar hun bron de grote zee schijf.

Ben ik wel bijbels genoeg in mijn relaas. heb ik niet per ongeluk iets nieuws gedaan? Hopelijk niet, ik heb toch een Prot, een Dader en Slachtoffer wat is er meer nodig voor een vertelling, ik kan wat meer ellende beschrijven en zogenaamd wijze uitspraken invoegen, weet je als jullie de zinnen nou nummeren dan kun je het lezen en herlezen en denken gossie gossie wat een wijs stuk en zeker als het duizenden jaren herdrukt wordt en herlezen dan lijkt het vast heel wat. Of niet dan

De loop van het verhaal gaat de bekende kant op, iemand krijgt straf en een ander wordt gered en Prot lost op in het niets.

Prot – Leugenaar ik maak een vervolg en dan kom ik je halen met je verhalen en zo Nietes

Welles Nee


Ik – Mooi niet doe maar iets anders, hier een beeldscherm en kijk en kijk, dan kan ik je dingen laten zien, echt ongelooflijke dingen, mensen die het heet hebben Prot – warm?

Nee heet zo heet dat ze voortdurend uit de kleren gaan

Prot – – Echt, sexy

Ki – Nou ja, niet zo zeer maar wel bezig met elkaar in ruimten, kamers, verlangen woorden maken, gedachten aanmaken en laten opkomen en doen alsof net als ware acteurs

Wat spelen ze dan?

Ik – Minister, Presentator, Denker, Hoogleraar, Arbeider, Belasting inspecteur, Teller deerne, Muzikant, Telefonist, IT specialist, Programmamaker, Uitgevertje en zo verder ieder beroep spelen ze, leren ze nadoen op school, zoals ze zelfs kindje spelen en volwassentje. Prot – Spannend klinkt als een boeiend verhaal mag ik mee doen

Vooruit dan ik heb een Prot nodig voor mijn rol als mij

Prot – Zit er ook natuur in?

Ik – Nee waarom? We werken zoals thuis weet je nog, de natuur is de Dader die jij moet verslaan. Het spul maakt fruit en bomen en andere heel erg vreselijk dingen zoals apen en beren! Dat op onze wegen waar jij op moet rijden omdat we ze niet voor niks maken, net als chips die moet je eten het is er niet voor niks en televisie moet je naar kijken het is er niet voor niks en geld moet je uitgeven en verdienen en gezond moet je zijn en blijven en een vlag moet je laten wapperen en vis moet je vangen en meer en meer er is zoveel te moeten omdat het er nu eenmaal is...

Prot – Zal ik maar afsluiten jij gaat maar door..

Ach ja het is toch een verhaal, doe de deur maar dicht.. sla de bladzijde maar om lezer, ander boek.. nieuw verhaal.. iedere dag boodschappen innemen

Prot – Plop


from Bryan Kehua

Like a blocked up toilet in the middle of a hurricane-induced deluge that would have made Noah's so-called “Great Flood” look like drizzle, Amy felt the rage within soar to new heights, only to be slammed into the granite slab that was her up-bringing and self-control. Yet another self-absorbed, privileged worm of a man figured he had had the picture of her. In her mind's eye, she could see the disintegration of the smug arsehole's teeth under the driving impact of her fist. Then that granite drove home the reality. The cold, unrelenting reality that was every psychoses that she had.

There was little that she could do in the middle of a Starbucks cafe paying excessive prices for crappy, mass-produced coffee that had all of the personality of a China-made birthday card poem. Amy drove it all back down with the jackhammer of discipline that she had learnt at the hands of her father. A drunken sot that had something of an anger problem. What did they call it in those days? That is right. “Masculinity”. That would have been funny if Amy had not been in Starbucks and had this suited, privileged dick shove in front of her at lunchtime. With her usual outward calm, the poisonous rage and violence, the images of fragmented teeth and torn tongue, were cast down into the abyss of expectation and social acceptance.

He jumped onto the tram with a flurry of overcoat, a pathetic imitation of Neo from The Matrix one had to guess. But this one wore a tie and looked nowhere as cool. He pushed to the rear of the tram, through the commuters who were standing and hanging on for dear life as the vehicle rattled its way through the Christchurch streets. He saw the empty seat just as Amy did. He made that fateful lunge that meant he was able to commute on his self-righteous butt. Amy just stood there. Waiting. Watching. The anger arose. The granite filled in the space and the emotions were again pushed into the compression space of her soul. She held onto the handle with knuckles whitened in the crushing pressure that she was applying. Her hands started to hurt, but by then the pain had become a cathartic release for the greater agony of her self-realisation. Volcanic loathing merged with the anger and formed the furnace that was her core, her essence, in that moment.

The construction worker in the seat next to the suited man got up and prepared to leave the tram at the next stop. Amy was almost relieved that the confrontation had been averted by the worker's choice of stop. She picked up her handbag in readiness to move and get into that newly vacant space. As the tram pulled to a slow, the worker rose and wriggled his way to the exit. Amy wriggled to the still warm seat.

A satchel.

A frigging “Bag of Holding” satchel. As if that was still cool in 2019.

Amy literally saw red. As the knife scythed across a collared neck, the office worker clutched at his through while futilely trying to suck oxygen into his lungs. Blood fountained across the adjacent few seats as the convulsions set in. Amy was by no means finished. She flipped the Bowie knife into a reverse grip and plunged the blade into the man. She missed the torso. The blade bit deeply into his open mouth, gouging bone and tongue. He screamed. No one heard it. It is hard to scream with a ruptured throat and a Bowie knife buried in your tonsils.

The screaming was coming from everyone else. The tram had shuddered to a stop and people were running for what they thought was their lives. They were in no danger, except for deeply red blood on their white shirts.

Amy tore the blade out of the meat and slammed it back into him. This time the torso was front and centre. His arms flailed about in contemptible worthless attempts to cling to existence. Amy felt the point bite into the antique wooden bench behind the dead man.

Amy felt a moment of sorrow and regret. The blade would have damaged that seat. Some poor guy would have to repair the damage that she had done. Yet, she couldn't help but wonder if an absolute arsehole had finally got what he had coming.

The sirens were loud.

#Horror #Humanity #Life


from selmakovich

photo d'une vieille machine à écrire

J'aime bien gagner. Je ne fais pas partie de celles et ceux, modestes, qui doutent inlassablement, tentent de choses sans y croire et disent “je ne fais ça que pour essayer”. Je crois à ma chance à chaque fois.

Impose ta chance, serre ton bonheur et va vers ton risque. A te regarder, ils s’habitueront.

Sauf que je perds. Cette année, j'ai tenté le nanowrimo. Un défi d'écriture se déroulant sur le mois de novembre. Le principe est simple : 1 mois, 50 000 mots à écrire. On peut écrire tous les jours d'une manière régulière, faire des sessions plus intenses les week-ends, comme on le souhaite. Le but c'est d'arriver à écrire, avant le 30 novembre, 50 000 mots.

Je me suis lancé⋅e dans ce défi avec hargne (comme pour tous les débuts, prochain article à venir). J'ai regardé trois vidéos youtube, eu une idée et me suis inscrit⋅e sur le site le 31 octobre et j'ai écrit. Dans les vidéos ou sur les blogs que j'ai lu, les conseils invitent tous à “prendre le temps”, à voir cette expérience comme “une chance pour évoluer”. Autant dire que cela me glisse dessus. Je ne suis pas particulièrement patient⋅e ou philosophe et je joue pour gagner.

Sauf que je perds.

J'ai commencé l'histoire par la fin, donc c'est officiel, je n'ai pas écrit 50 000 mots en un mois. Je n'ai pas de petits badge “winner” du Nanowrimo. A la place, j'ai une histoire bancale, inachevée et difficilement résumable au premier degré. Un document word un peu moche qui contient une table des matières évolutives et des personnages qui changent de prénoms.

Pendant ce mois de novembre, j'ai été le gamin asthmatique du cours de cross (spoiler : j'étais déjà le gamin asthmatique du cours de cross ou presque). Celui qui s'accroche alors que c'est pas gagné et à qui on donne des points pour la participation. J'ai vu de nombreuses personnes traverser la ligne d'arrivée le 20 novembre, pendant que je restais embourbé⋅e dans mon premier chapitre. Moi je ramais, elles, elles préparaient déjà le tome II de leurs chroniques martiennes.

Alors oui, on me dit qu'on ne se présente pas à un marathon sans entraînement. On ne s'invente pas écrivain⋅e d'un coup, sous prétexte que c'est le confinement et que les cinémas sont fermés. Certes. Mais j'ai du mal avec les excuses et les “j'aurais mieux réussi si”. Donc je perds.

Donc je perds. Sauf que.

Sauf que, face à moi, j'ai à présent un espèce de magma de 38 000 mots qui raconte une histoire qui tient presque debout si on rajoute des étais sur les côtés et des rustines dans les coins. Et j'en tire une satisfaction proche de celle ressentie par un gamin qui fait son premier dessin avec des feutres indélébiles. C'est moche, oui, mais c'est (presque) fait.

C'est une défaite qui a le goût d'une victoire.

#ecriture #nanowrimo

En savoir plus...

from Mike Stone

I'm a huge fan of the Vivaldi web browser, so when I saw an article pop up in my news feed about a Vivaldi mail client, I just had to check this out.

I remember a long long time ago, back in the Netscape days, mail clients were pretty common place. Eudora. Thunderbird. Outlook Express. Some were either tightly tied to a browser or a part of one. So, when I hear that Vivaldi is creating one, I know there's precedent for this kind of move. I wasn't aware of how much precedent there was though.

It turns out this is a continuation of an earlier effort. The founder of Vivaldi is Jon Stephenson von Tetzchner, formerly of Opera. Opera had a mail client that developed itself a pretty decent following called Opera Mail, or M2. Vivaldi's mail client is being referred to as M3.

So, with all this history behind it and me being a fan of Vivaldi, this seems like a no brainer to try. Well, I held off becaues I think email is broken in general, but I finaly caved and fired it up.

After the latest snapshot is installed on your system, it's pretty easy to turn on. Just go to the Experiments page, and check the box. This adds the Mail, Contacts, and Calendar panels, and enables the clients.

I haven't really spent a lot of time in them to be honest. I really was mostly interested in the “Feeds” portion of the email client, which is an RSS reader. Unfortunately Jon himself threw cold water on my hopes for it. So far, they haven't implemented syncing of read/unread news feed items, and it's not on the road map as of yet.

This particular feature is a deal breaker for me. I have a lot of RSS feeds that I watch on a daily basis, and I have no desire to go sifting through all that stuff more than once. I can't have something I've read on my phone be not read on my computer.

Vivaldi already offers sync service, but as of yet the Feeds doesn't use it. I sincerely hope that this is something they consider as this would be a real game changer for me.

For the time being, I'll try out the email client and see if it's a better deal than the smattering of wev interfaces I currently use. I might setup the calendar and stuff too.

I realize it's still in it's infancy, and these features haven't even hit the standard release. Hopefully by the time it does the functionality I'm wishing for will be included.

Day 98 of the #100DaysToOffload Series.


from Tyler's Blog

The light is starting to feel different again. The way I see it is changing. The way it strikes through the air. It's as if something is more alive in it.

I noticed it laying on my bed, listening to a lecture. Something in the light changed. It became full. But I'm not sure what it was full of.

It felt like being in a redwood forest, streaks of sunlight cutting through the branches. Carrying a quality. As if the light was filled with heart. Or a thousand silent songs.

Have you ever experienced it? Like when you were a kid, watching the sunset. The light filling the air and filling something in you too. Filling a place you didn't know was empty.

Leaves you feeling alive, the light imprinting itself on you. And even if you don't realize what's happened, you carry it with you. And it never leaves. Because it's always been there. The full light, in you.

Maybe the light was always there to begin with. So deep you forgot about it. It's easy to forget about it. Until it comes to you again, whispering in your ear, Of course I'm still here. How could I ever leave you?

And how could it? Because on some level, it feels so close to you. So close that there is no way to tell that it isn't you.

You hear the light in your dreams and in music. You feel it when you cry or kiss someone you love. You feel it walking alone, silent. It's everywhere and nowhere.

I first noticed the light was changing because I felt something in me changing. Something coming out from being held in. Slowly, simply, and with no effort at all.

Sun shining through the blinds, making the entire street gold. Making me warm.


from Now Listening to... 🎧

Last song for tonight is this beautiful, beautiful song from Go Radio. I remember now why I wanted to start a music blog... It was because of beautifully written songs like this one.

I found hope In the back of a closet Written by a child's hand On pieces of parchment Yellowed and old I've never seen That kind of belief

I sat to read A story of kindness Where even just one kiss Can change how we read this Can help us get lost In a pattern so ageless It conquers the cost

When did we all resolve to growing up means stand aside Where did the heroes go 'cause tonight we breathe to stand and fight

We will run Until we all can feel the sun Until we all can bleed as one Until we all collapse We'll always live to close the distance Run Like it's time that's chasing us Like you will never find enough Like you forgot the words “give up” And live to close the distance ♪ ♫ ♪



from Now Listening to... 🎧

Fates... what an incredibly catchy track from The Downtown Fiction — I love it!

You walk in the door and see your face You're feeling like somethings outta place She runs her fingers through her hair Shes not looking anywhere And with a glance she knows the truth Shes discovered the real you Take off the mask and now shes running, running I guess

She knows, she knows now What you said Knows, she knows now What you did Knows, she knows now Because her face says it all back on the wall ♪ ♫ ♪



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