2021.09.18 15:15 anotherDocObVious Damn Linus grew buff AF, and owes a pair of shoes?
|submitted by anotherDocObVious to LinusTechTips [link] [comments]|
2021.09.18 15:15 picboi The Coalition government of Australia proposes to scrap recovery plans for 200 endangered species and habitats
2021.09.18 15:15 FinanciallyAddicted When can I expect a full review of the Ipad 10.2 9th gen ?
I guess reviewers tend to have the product with them but can't give a review until the product hits the store what date is that does anyone know ?
submitted by FinanciallyAddicted to ipad [link] [comments]
2021.09.18 15:15 chixmagnet Ifugao in a Nutshell; The descendants of Kabunyan
|submitted by chixmagnet to Igorotage [link] [comments]|
2021.09.18 15:15 Past-Giraffe-9887 Footy Punks ⚽️ The Hottest NFT Football Trading Cards on BSC. Launching at 13:00 UTC Today! 🚀 Giveaways and Competitions coming up 🔥
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submitted by Past-Giraffe-9887 to AllCryptoBets [link] [comments]
2021.09.18 15:15 Bright-Top-2087 mesprit on me, i’ll accept 5 on this code 733564353977 and 5 on this 378830904153 pls send the request to 1 code only
|submitted by Bright-Top-2087 to PokemonGoRaids [link] [comments]|
2021.09.18 15:15 yali8 I was listening to this ending song when i spotted shirakumo behind present mic and that gave me some serious chills.
|submitted by yali8 to BokuNoHeroAcademia [link] [comments]|
2021.09.18 15:15 apc_52 2021 Topps Chrome Refractors and Inserts FT. Looking for Bo/Vlad/2021 Bowman parallels
2021.09.18 15:15 EDMLiveset Bang the Drum with Arkadion
2021.09.18 15:15 AltruisticRip238 26[F4M]have you ever been sexted till your dream come true and you masturbated and cum for 3hours before?I am bored, looking for a sexting partner,hookup can work if you are close,I am ready to spoil you with raw live videos so as to make you warm,message me if you are interested
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submitted by AltruisticRip238 to lastweektonight [link] [comments]
2021.09.18 15:15 CCeenesi Coupon FIVE YSHGJ001HJ Shoes Clothes Dryer Quilt Drying Machine LED Display Mijia APP Active Oxygen Deodorization with 2 Drying Pipe 💶 Price: 93.33 EUR ⬇️ COUPON here ⬇️
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2021.09.18 15:15 KpKomedy51 A Concept, don't know if I'll finish it
2021.09.18 15:15 sajdood My ledger nano s firmware is on 1.6.1 and this is apparently up to date?
Having issues with metamask and ledger (keep getting security key pop up on windows) so I a trying to update my ledger. But apparently, I have the latest version? This can't be right as I see the latest version is 2.0? https://snipboard.io/udGDt4.jpg
submitted by sajdood to ledgerwallet [link] [comments]
2021.09.18 15:15 EDMLiveset UV Connect 025: Juan Pablo Torrez
|submitted by EDMLiveset to EDMPodcast [link] [comments]|
2021.09.18 15:15 AutoModerator FIA F4 Spain: Circuit Ricardo Tormo - Race 1 Discussion
Spanish F4 - Ricardo Tormo
F1FS Wiki: Formula 4 Guide - Teams & Drivers - 2021 Calendar
Session Times All times in CEST (UTC+2:00).
Qualifying 1 - 14:30
Race 1 - 17:45
Qualifying 2 - 09:00
Race 2 - 12:00
Race 3 - 14:35
A table of the weekends timetable can be found here.
You can convert the session times to your local time through the following link.
Circuit Information Circuit Ricardo Tormo
Length: 4.005 km (2.488 mi)
Distance: 25min + 1 Lap
Entry List: Here.
Results & Standings Full championship results can be found Here
Full championship standings can be found Here.
Timing & Streaming The FIA F4 Spanish Championship has its own official Stream via YouTube and Twitch.
AutoModerator to F1FeederSeries [link] [comments]
2021.09.18 15:15 carenciasc4 Billy Gene Is Marketing - Clicks Into Customers 2.0 (I have it)
I have Billy Gene is Marketing - Clicks Into Customers 2.0 Training Program.
If you have any questions or want more information regarding Billy Gene is Marketing - Clicks Into Customers 2.0 Training Program you can contact me on:
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Disclaimer: This is information post only.
submitted by carenciasc4 to BillyGeneIsMarketing [link] [comments]
2021.09.18 15:15 AutoModerator The white zone is for immediate loading and unloading of passengers only. There is no stopping in the red zone.
2021.09.18 15:15 blocksportnft 🌐 Marketplace
Blocksport’s web-based marketplace allows users to upload, publish, and sell their minted NFTs. The marketplace will use smart contracts to control NFTs auctions and transactions. Additional benefits of this marketplace are that economic principles of supply and demand become automatically integrated into the system, allowing the community to determine the fair price of user-generated assets.
submitted by blocksportnft to blocksportnft [link] [comments]
2021.09.18 15:15 AutoModerator Daily Thread For New Podcasts
Put links here to the latest episodes from the last 24hours. If you see an episode posted please keep comments to that original comment's thread instead of posting the episodes twice in here.
submitted by AutoModerator to NBAPodcasts [link] [comments]
2021.09.18 15:15 MrLabourCranium The last candlelight / Recreation of a doppleganger / Grist / Embrace a barren wild
He cannot explain anything. He must make diversions. His tale digresses through jumbled and fragmentary events into inability. The reader should understand. He relies heavily on close involvement in the text. Marbled and blank pages reflect his presence inside the narrative.
Opening an old cloth-bound book, he is startled to discover as he turns the pages more seem to grow from the covers. This is monstrous. He considers burning it before fearing the endless smoke plume would suffocate the world. He goes to the library to leave it among the basement bookshelves, a leaf in a forest.
He encounters animals that speak, plants that roam about, objects that wonder and fear, forces of nature with skeptical, ironical attitudes. He observed the predicament of expiring years, experienced partitions that would totally expunge the aggression of powerful neighbors. A lamb preys upon wolves. Rendered an intimate of the last king, that involuntary instigator, he survived to witness final dismemberment.
The parables, elegant lessons drawn more quotidian, where strong win and weak lose, immutable order. Reason exalted as equivalent to brute strength. The clever thrive, the dull perish. Concise prose, originality of no import. He borrowed the enormous body, whatever was always transformed. The pleasure due to compression of the whole, some times in a few lines, and those comprise only one quatrain where the pen moves in a rush.
Written as they range, invocation to however, curiously include the identical, stream and river, lion and beast, wake and sleep. Consistent with his dictum on versification and versifiers: be brief, and so far. The same treatise is commonly ascribed to creatures that people might take from speech. It originated in eastern lands where supreme governance reposed. Thus, when it feared to proclaim simulacra, the alike ruled and the ruler.
An image coalesced from rubbish, whatever bound. Be anything, no matter what if at all, or nothing thought to be. Dreadful day begins to appear, aloft and gliding forth with deadly hue, doleful blaze, the void be seen. How many ills lurk, and heaps of strife. The seas in quiet.
The reported name, appearance disputed, written in unknown script, suddenly slashing his arms with broken glass. No subsequent whereabouts. What became of him. Negatives are plentiful. As from an endless violet expanse, whatever had been, if ever had been.
The light out. Upon the uninhabited part, the narrow gullies. Shepherds bring sheep to graze but never stay, fearful. The replacement, the dreary man. No one waited.
Ascended the steep set of stairs to the top of the cliff. The door unlocked. Three oil skinned coats missing. Found half eaten food, chair overturned in haste. Something must have happened about a week ago. Poor fellows.
Severe winds whose like I’ve never seen in twenty years. A seasoned mariner crying. Why would he cry over a storm? They prayed it would end. Why? Storm ended, sea calm. God is over all. What was meant?
The iron railway wrenched out of concrete. A stone that weighed a ton displaced. Turf ripped from cliff edge. Ropes strewn over the rocks, the crate dislodged, they were attempting to retrieve the ropes when a rogue wave came.
The pertinent and persistent question: strange voices in the wind. A sea serpent or giant seabird had carried them away in secret. But no reason to flee. Shanghaied by malevolent specters, the phantom of seven hunters, consumed with remorse. The land terminates, washed away in the swell.
They breathe, exhale age, smell of centuries. Space shrinking inward but growing, intricate depth, epochs in the narrow crevice. My remit, to amass the written word, those quires not lost, worn away, swallowed by disaster, burned on pyres or fed into shredders, buried beneath gardens, devoured, returned to those dark recesses from which they issued.
All that survive today, studied and retold, or forgotten, thick with dust, endless ancient letters. Sunken gems twinkle beneath gloom, sulking face of the deep. What is lost and has been lost and will be forever, dissipating waves of memory.
But after decades, following half-remembered anecdotes, certain works of significance leapt out. Or rather, significant passages in the greatest and worst, impressed with disproportionate depth, as though they punctured the page, small slivered glimpses of the expanse subtending what had been. Passages through which one might press and traverse the cavernous obscurity of the unwritten, from which whatever is drawn will return when the last candlelight is snuffed. Openings into the black vault, nowhere. The eye trains on traces of illumination.
Around the rim of glass, an old strong man, the derelict lurched on. Blind. Fingers tapped his jaw. Three hundred suns glittered, a puddle of jeweled milk, blackness wrapped around us. The walls sang the blotted night, but then too late, we rattled apart. But I see you. Yellow teeth set in red gums. A fire in the eyes. That whole collapsing head. A balled-up rainbow outlined, solar ghost across hell. Who are you?
The keel of the future, laid in late. Rigged as a brigantine, hull planking flush. The captain fell ill, worsened, collided in the narrows, sank, then quiet years. Not a thing happened. Abandoned as a wreck. No records of the trading remain.
The forest king, grown tired of life. I prosper. All does alter. All day rain fell. Autumn weather. And everything going well. He needn’t listen. A soaking took. Stresses culminate in the fall, the new kingdom, subornation belatedly absorbed.
Then found in a desert. Water, wet and untidy, had entered through doorways and skylights, a sheathed sword under the bed, papers missing. Evidence indicated an odd departure. A salvor could expect a substantial share of the value of vessel and cargo, depending on the danger in the salvaging. I can hardly tell what I am made of, but I do not care so long as I got in safe. I shall be well paid for her.
An ancient civilization derives keen awareness of final demise. A vision of mankind rich in limpid prose. In happy reign, there returned the laden god, who traveled from the fortress with pious priests, eminent monarchs, valiant army, faithful men and creatures fed on soil. Due to the spell, unable to walk from his majority. Another had cut his veins and died. After drinking tainted wine had gone mad and fancied himself an ape, spent days on end in the trees.
It comprises interbraided strands. The future is known from the beginning. After the end of the eternally living, the throne was seized. Elements led to denouement. Adversities eroding arable land. Amassing numbers undermining unity. The chasm grows. Having made careful study, he evolves a strategy to arrest decline: obtain the treasures stored in the Labyrinth. The chaff of myth discarded.
The song of a mendicant priest: Do you hear? Whose heart no longer beats is not saddened by mourning, does not take pleasure in life. What for, then, this sculpting for which one pays in pain and bloody tears? Night fell. Wrapped in gaberdine, he replied. Go to our temple. Walls crammed with carved men, animals, trees, rivers, stars. What for? Read with reverence the sweeping history of distant times. The aftermath of lost vitality under oppression and extortion, the influx of wisdom dissipated in a flood, profligacy and fleecing, the light that burned for ten thousand years expired.
He intentionally introduced anachronisms and anatopisms, tesserae, an afterlife, secrets of dead voices. Unseen hands touch head and back. Beyond the power to describe, accumulated centuries, waking and feeding the gods, a boulder overgrown with mold, the struggle of a stolid snail to hang on against encroachments.
Follow the narrow road to the interior, the deep north. In footsteps the very soul is written out. The travels of eternity. Years float away on ships, or grow old leading horses forever. Men died on the road with ceaseless thoughts of roaming. I wandered along the seacoast, then in autumn returned to my cottage and swept away the cobwebs. When spring came, mist in the air, I thought of crossing the barrier, possessed by wanderlust, road spirits beckoned. I could not settle down to work.
I could think of nothing but the moon. Travel in those days was dangerous, but I was committed. Subject and object entirely annihilated. Casting away earthly attachments, one by one, I now had nothing else but my self, in and around me. A monument against the flow of time. Leaving in great poverty words not heard by the world, in whispering galleries, heard clearly at the end and by posterity.
In the invisible lodge I read in the devil’s papers of the recreation of a doppelganger after pseudocide, a jubilee and resurrection. Ambitious titan, cardinal and capital, divided into cycles to express inevitable doom, the hubris of heaven stormers, the indiscipline of the saeculum, condemned contemplation. All one-sided, come to grief, but the doomed are interesting.
He dreamed of quiet, simple, happy life, constantly occupied with his work as a writer, delivered from anxiety about outward necessities by the pension of a prince. His awkward imagination took formlessness to extremes, in droll and bizarre soliloquy, bitter satire, quick changes of mood, spells of dreadful sobriety, glimpses of curtailed idylls, empathy for women and misogynistic quips. An almost childlike nature, quick to tears, as alien as a man who fell from the moon, made worse use of riches than others made of rags. Kept distance from the absolute, ambivalent. Enlightenment failed, though still held importance. He arrived at humorous resignation, no illusions, rococo castles, bleak villages, countless variations, people who see themselves.
He maintains that books belong to humanity and should have an impact on all times. The prospect of complete freedom was real, even under the tightened conditions of the occupation. He spoke out in favor of the future, which cannot be controlled. Police action will only cause it to explode like a champagne bottle.
He realized with surprise he was an ego. I am an I. The long sleep of life will close our wounds. Death will be the scar. Flower, fruit, and thorn. Begin a new life. The sudden meeting, the touching moment, the wedding after death, the inconsistency and being torn apart, still today a sign. A sufficient head of water, the necessary gradient, fed on the last trickle of the spring. He is in the valley. He shows signs of illness. The threshold of the night, life and death entwined. His voice was wool and sand, an echo of some far off shouting, he coughed, sat back hard, where are you from? A little white house on a tree-lined street. But that was a long time ago, wasn’t it? A long time ago. He wondered how to get away.
The hymns display an intermediary, a third party between man and God, the dead beloved. An assumed happy life on earth, a painful era of alienation, salvation in the eternal night, awakening, the longing to return, lamenting the historical replacement. The use of the fragment. He suffered a severe flare-up, a tension between language and imagination. Instead of not-I, you. He was appointed auditor to the salt works, accepted the position to earn a stable income for his intended marriage. She stayed, became extremely ill. She died two days after her fifteenth birthday. Then his younger brother also died.
Whose hapless tale do these melancholy pages tell? That’s how it was. But you don’t know. You can’t know what it’s like to stagger through the rest of life, remembering. Guard these marvels of fell ambition, scourged by fate, from reason’s peevish blame. I dare expand my sail to Fancy’s gale, heedless blind and trusting lame. What’s your name? I can’t remember it. Can’t remember a thing any more! They say if they cut out the nerves, slice them off at the brain, the roaring, the light, it might stop. Your name? What’s your name? It doesn’t matter, does it? The precipitate of a certain form of existence, but existence itself withheld. The silk seas, the arctic flowers, no such thing, there’s no such thing. An inconspicuous, peripheral substance, the kernel that later grew can today be foreseen. The heroic phase is over. Society must either explode in a profane struggle for domination or decay and be transformed. An inspiring dream wave, integral, conclusive, absolute movement.
Life only seemed worth living where the threshold between waking and sleeping was worn away. A sickly boy of no promising disposition, showed no symptoms of affection. Apprehending severity, did not dare to utter their surmises on this precipitation. So early, great youth, greater infirmity. Not wishing to incommode himself with chase, sent a hawk after sparrows. Not sated with the dainties to measure, appetite growing keener. Every age bitter, full of grief, he toiled over his book, vexed his father. His mentor was the geologist. He immersed himself in electricity, galvanism, alchemy, mineralogy, medicine, chemistry, astronomy, expanded his social circle, became engaged to the daughter of the chair of mining studies, a more earthly passion, the subject of spiritual songs, and remained engaged until his death.
He began a collection of notes for a project to unite the separate sciences into a universal whole, a General Encyclopedia. This integration remained incomplete. He wondered how to incorporate his recently acquired knowledge of the mining industry into his philosophical and poetic vision. Fragments of flowers, taken from his ancestors. Cultivate new land. The soil is poor. We must scatter seed abundantly for even a moderate harvest. Reflections on his own sterility. He dreaded an ancient prophecy: you will grow too large to inhabit this place. It was difficult to make any sense. Running back breathless, frantic, foaming at the mouth, he said nothing, struck with terror, enraged at the procrastination, the folly, what was the matter? A mountain of sable plumes. The carriage arrived covered in darkness, bearing suffocating anguish, the black horses snorting, stamping, the train sweeps by with cloak and pall, somber ornaments, another joined the rest of the lowly laid. The mind filled with all dumb creation, the sorrowful shade, the shrill bittern cries merge, resound as bell clanging, and wend away.
Tell me again. A volley of voices, lamentable sounds, dashed to pieces, quietly I want to pass where none yet has passed, after you. Retired to bed about daybreak, loosened like a bad tooth. This is not the place. Still those phantasms, by no means limited to dreams, the bitter, passionate revolt, overcoming illumination. Beneath white vaults, clutched the sack to his belly, spilling across dusty stone where windows were alive with golden light. An unfathomable tendency to sink belonged to the sad men, blank, natural and proper. Afternoon glistened between the showers. Myself I cannot save.
On a grey barren plain, feeble little fires. The groan of old life. He looked upon disorder. The distant crying of a child, fading light, the absence knocked, disturbed his exhausted mind and senses. Bright hoarding scene, groups gathered, to watch a large thing pass oblivious away. Grist. Distressed deficiency, those delightful days fulfilled a fortune promised always, but I am not pleased. I inquire about the future. Who would not wish to see them most rigorously severed from all accident? A banging door in the corridor. In these rooms lived members of a sect who had sworn never to occupy closed rooms. He began to cough up blood.
A systematic collection of fragments, disorganized, persisting in obscurity. Yearning for hereafter, the blue flower, the white plague. We have a mission to cultivate the earth, enliven nature, break down the magical mismatch between stimulation and internal state. The distant touch, the fine interval finally at end. Ignorance all around, how had this misfortune happened, this tremendous phenomenon before him? His eyes fixed on what he wished in vain to be a vision, the spectacle of that stupendous object, the portent, the bleeding mangled remains.
I dislike it. There are things beyond this fiddle, prolonged reading with perfect contempt one discovers after all. She feared he’d fall dead, but the rest seemed padding. Omissions are no accident. She found a bag of perfect Chinese pears, the first I’d ever seen. A red capsule containing healing medication had stained her blouse. Doting on her afflicted mother, smothered her grief, scarce less assiduous than the princess, endeavoring to partake and lessen the weight of the sorrow she strove to suppress. No concern for death save commiseration, her mind imprinted with terror. Why weep? You’re more comfortable in a cage than in the cold. You were born caged, this was your morrow. I was free once.
Specimens from a new devotional, his final work, described variously as desperate prayer, a reactionary manifesto, a theocratic dream. A seer who brought forth a new gospel, who lived life as one aiming toward another, who saw death as a means of transcending limitation, a scientific mystic who sought to synthesize a religion of the visible cosmos, an intellectual intuition of the Logos that structures the universe, who ascended to Nature, to the I, to the thesis of God. Wielding the magic wand of analogon, he called not for return to a lost golden age, but a cosmopolitan unity of past and future, ideal and real, in an unfinished historical process. He fled the earth on a boat. The bend it rounded revealed the river behind him dried up in his wake.
So many offspring from a single egg. I felt like a burnt thing. Harm himself he must needs, he now reaps corn cockle. Why do I freeze outdoors while you sleep on finest linen? How can a man have a sense of a thing if he don’t have the seeds of it in him? I need nourishment, incitation. At just that time I tried to picture with great intensity how they saw life then, back in that epoch of conception, mystical approximation, possessed of curiosity, kept in a kind of secret bond that bestowed or withheld the gift of an inner or outer intoxication. Is not all ecstasy? Or sober humiliation, a transport to the complementary world resembling ours only along borders, in the tombs, on the morning before battle or after victory.
The wretched inquiry commenced in the midst of senseless guesses. This catastrophe, unprecedented, absurd. A figure in black marble of the former prince recalled in a trance, a tempest of rage. Something might have been missed, or done too quickly, but you can be at peace. You understand me well. All sublunary happiness consists in being well deceived. Many sought to know no more, to dissolve the charm, embrace a barren wild. There is no hinge or loop to hang a doubt upon.
The committee followed that chalked out line of conduct. I live in a place. I often hear disdain and indignation, palpable and most impudent. I can foresee the poems. If you continue to stand on your present footing, you will be thrown aside and fall into final oblivion. He scorns as he pretends to satisfy anybody. The holes were small but their effect had accumulated. But don’t look so grim. Why don’t we go ashore?
Devoted to the dark they were, acquired material in limbo, became a source of valuable clippings, books, postcards, and letters. These peripatetic contributors related enigmatic new lands, new (apocryphal) revelations. Portrait of a fault area, rent in perpetuum. Portents bore the revised legend, a contemporary record of compounded difficulties. We die, and passing on, rising, reiterate.
To further delegate the burden mentioned, tumults and troubles, bustle and turmoil of daily life and the strife and suffering of the world, to be carried or abandoned, to die exemplified, to cull, thrash, in rings or spirals, to stir, a selection, the breech of a gun, a mound of hay, a pen for hens, noisy disturbance, fuss, ado. Along with outrageous fortune, the Parergon. This itself no longer exists. An implement used in weaving: when we have worked off this knot of mortality, the length of life the length of thread coiled on a spool, unwound by the shuttle of the loom of time.
The first House set apart, blest, a guidance unto worlds. This is not to be. The past tense. To cry, mourning and weeping, be still my soul. Chanting on the way to sleeping quarters. Poor banished children, send up our sighs. After our exile, clement, loving, prepare the body to become a dwelling-place meet for commemoration, fervent intercession, delivered from everlasting death. Heaven and earth resound!
Investigation of the unexplained: a second index, separately bound supplement. To overcome this difficulty, changes cemented, an obituary, having "earned his rest.” Occasional papers, a research bulletin concerning man in the New World. Met every Tuesday afternoon to open post and interact, discuss conclusions and limitations. Translating ancient documents, purportedly lost manuscripts, spontaneous images and acheropites, simulacra, the common stream. A chance to revitalize, returning, passed.
Silence, you dogs. At the edge of the plank, aloft above the ditch, marshaled and inspected, the formed, barefooted, sword-strapped, to restore decorum. There is no record of time. Lost all evocative power, worn out apparitions, a conspiracy of prophets, broke the epileptic Eschaton, mass hysteria, left pulsing, squirming, now catatonia, age of rust.
submitted by MrLabourCranium to arcanumordinelibrorum [link] [comments]
2021.09.18 15:15 2147483 3D printed adapter to hold phone instead of lamp
2021.09.18 15:15 TrafficAdventurous37 Lash Lift Kit for the first time,What's wrong with me?
| Hey love! Me and my sister where filming today and used the lash kit. From some reason it didn’t lift nor curl them and we re did it on our other eyelashes and same thing happened. |
Watched the teaching video and we did everything correctly :) We do have long lashes and maybe since they can be heavy it just doesn’t work?
Then I contacted the seller, and she told me that their current tutorial focused on most common Lashes . Maybe I can keep my eyelash perm longer.
I was perm for 10-15 minutes before, then I tried it for 15-20 minutes! It really worked ！
I'm so happy, if you don't succeed the first time, don't lose it, ha ha, try adjusting the perm time, you will succeed too. Now THAT I have sunflower eyelashes, my husband soon noticed that I was different
submitted by TrafficAdventurous37 to MakeupAddiction [link] [comments]
2021.09.18 15:15 panfried540 I didnt do well in sunday school
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2021.09.18 15:15 RedBreadRamsay He's very talented, that's right very talented
|submitted by RedBreadRamsay to KAIMON_SIMPACT [link] [comments]|
2021.09.18 15:15 farklinkbot Alabama's COVID-19 deaths surpassed their number of births last year
|submitted by farklinkbot to fark [link] [comments]|