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Мо02.07.2009 в 23:23
Пишет *AnimePoint*:[b][u]Последняя манга =)
Все о нас и т.д. (М+М)
Двери хаоса - том 2
Роскошный Карат (М+М)
Роковой поцелуй - том 1
Все о нас и т.д. (М+М)
Двери хаоса - том 2
Легенда о вампире - том 1
Роскошный Карат (М+М)
Роковой поцелуй - том 1
Хочу денег вдолг.... т.т чтоб потом не возвращать.
А еще хочу купить Тетрадку, и накопить..ии...ии.. и у меня есть деньги на Акиру, но больше денег нет...т_Т
Может работу найти шоле? тт
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Вышел на балкон, весь такой загарать намылилси. Посидел с мольбертом, меня начало сдувать, прогремел гром.. так всегда, как только я вспоминаю, как лучше рисовать зеленой акварелью. Это знак свыше не иначе.
Зато собрал старые работы (за конец прошлого, этот год) и нафоткал.
портфолио?
гадость страшная....=/
Зато собрал старые работы (за конец прошлого, этот год) и нафоткал.
портфолио?
гадость страшная....=/
16:03
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Закрытая запись, не предназначенная для публичного просмотра
среда, 01 июля 2009
23:35
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Тополиный пух, жара, июль
Ночи такие звездные (ц)
Парк Победы весь как в снегу О_О Озера почти покрыты пухом полностью. *чихает*
а горячую воду нам так и не включили....
Ночи такие звездные (ц)
Парк Победы весь как в снегу О_О Озера почти покрыты пухом полностью. *чихает*
а горячую воду нам так и не включили....
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XDDDDDDDD
+1
+1
01.07.2009 в 18:10
Пишет Ichirin no Hana:лоооол
URL записи
URL записи
URL записи28.06.2009 в 01:22
Пишет Akai Akari:27.06.2009 в 19:29
Пишет Akai_Ritsuka-kun:Если бы мировые конфликты решались он-лайн
Эстония:Русские козлы, мешают фашиствовать!
Литва:+1
Латвия:+1
Россия:Да пошли вы...
Эстония:Эй, модератор, русские матерятся! Примите меры!
Россия:Да пошли вы...
ЕС:Соблюдайте правила приличия!
Эстония:Уберем памятник "Воину", построим Рейхстаг!
Россия:Только попробуйте! Крантик прикрутим!
Эстония:Модератор! Россия угрожает! "Забанить" их!
Литва:+1
Латвия:+1
ЕС:Будте взаимовежливы!
Россия:Имели мы вас всех ввиду! Модератор, заткни мопсов!
США:Россия много себе позволяет, мы никого не дадим в обиду!
Россия:Мериканцы, вы там свою ПРО себе в рот засуньте, а то мы и вам крантики перекроем!
йа плакаль
Международная дипломатия - это такой флуд-форум на макроуровне.
Эстония:Русские козлы, мешают фашиствовать!
Литва:+1
Латвия:+1
Россия:Да пошли вы...
Эстония:Эй, модератор, русские матерятся! Примите меры!
Россия:Да пошли вы...
ЕС:Соблюдайте правила приличия!
Эстония:Уберем памятник "Воину", построим Рейхстаг!
Россия:Только попробуйте! Крантик прикрутим!
Эстония:Модератор! Россия угрожает! "Забанить" их!
Литва:+1
Латвия:+1
ЕС:Будте взаимовежливы!
Россия:Имели мы вас всех ввиду! Модератор, заткни мопсов!
США:Россия много себе позволяет, мы никого не дадим в обиду!
Россия:Мериканцы, вы там свою ПРО себе в рот засуньте, а то мы и вам крантики перекроем!
йа плакаль
Международная дипломатия - это такой флуд-форум на макроуровне.
понедельник, 29 июня 2009
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Я так хочу прочитать эти книжки, что уже морально созрел устанавливать торрент.
Ну что, пакуйте вещи -мир скоро кончится. А все Kelley Armstrong и Mery Hoffman T_T Зачем так красиво и интересно писать?!
Ну что, пакуйте вещи -мир скоро кончится. А все Kelley Armstrong и Mery Hoffman T_T Зачем так красиво и интересно писать?!
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The Raven
[First published in 1845]
horizontal space Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'
[MORE=Ah, distinctly I remember...]Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'
But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'
But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore![/MORE!
[First published in 1845]
horizontal space Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore,
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
`'Tis some visitor,' I muttered, `tapping at my chamber door -
Only this, and nothing more.'
[MORE=Ah, distinctly I remember...]Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December,
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow; - vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow - sorrow for the lost Lenore -
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken sad uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me - filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
`'Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door -
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Sir,' said I, `or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Darkness there, and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before
But the silence was unbroken, and the darkness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, `Lenore!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, `Lenore!'
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
`Surely,' said I, `surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore -
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore; -
'Tis the wind and nothing more!'
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately raven of the saintly days of yore.
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door -
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door -
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
`Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,' I said, `art sure no craven.
Ghastly grim and ancient raven wandering from the nightly shore -
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night's Plutonian shore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning - little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door -
Bird or beast above the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as `Nevermore.'
But the raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only,
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing further then he uttered - not a feather then he fluttered -
Till I scarcely more than muttered `Other friends have flown before -
On the morrow he will leave me, as my hopes have flown before.'
Then the bird said, `Nevermore.'
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
`Doubtless,' said I, `what it utters is its only stock and store,
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore -
Till the dirges of his hope that melancholy burden bore
Of "Never-nevermore."'
But the raven still beguiling all my sad soul into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore -
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking `Nevermore.'
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom's core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion's velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o'er,
But whose velvet violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o'er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
`Wretch,' I cried, `thy God hath lent thee - by these angels he has sent thee
Respite - respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore!
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe, and forget this lost Lenore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil! -
Whether tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted -
On this home by horror haunted - tell me truly, I implore -
Is there - is there balm in Gilead? - tell me - tell me, I implore!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
`Prophet!' said I, `thing of evil! - prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us - by that God we both adore -
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels named Lenore -
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden, whom the angels named Lenore?'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
`Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!' I shrieked upstarting -
`Get thee back into the tempest and the Night's Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken! - quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from off my door!'
Quoth the raven, `Nevermore.'
And the raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o'er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted - nevermore
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«САМУРАИ: ART of WAR»
25 апреля – 30 сентября
Военно-исторический музей артиллерии,
инженерных войск и войск связи
Санкт-Петербурга
"В экспозицию вошло свыше трёхсот экспонатов, относящихся
преимущественно к периодам Муромати и Эдо: это оружие, доспехи,
произведения декоративно-прикладного искусства, живописи и каллиграфии,
гравюра, предметы быта."
А вот междй прочим, очень даже советую сходить. Для особо жадных без студентечского билета: можно раздобыть банеры на скидку в 50 рублей по будним дням.
Столько катан я не разу в жизни не видел, и не увижу, чует мое сердце. После продолжительного рассматривания катаны с "изображением сакуры и стихотворением посвещенным сакуре на клинке", я понял, что Шики -босяк в латексе. Они все такие разные, и все такие красивые... а еще там есть самураи и всякая калиграфия...и...ии *ушел в себя*
Сама выставка красивая, эффектная и проч. и проч. Но есть много минусов, которые я даже за все привезенные нам вакидзаси..но о них я говорить не буду, потому что это антипиар.
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В три часа ночи до меня дошло, что нужно было делать, чтобы закончить квест. Весь день мучился, полз к компустеру.
Блин, муж мой, зачем я тебя послушал?
Блин, муж мой, зачем я тебя послушал?
суббота, 27 июня 2009
18:08
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16:51
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13:02
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пятница, 26 июня 2009
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В форточку доносятся песни Бригадного подряда *______________* Так клево слышать живые голоса кумиров не отрывая попу от заветного стула <3
12:26
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Дорогой, где ты был?
Додзик:
Name: Shi ni Itaru Yamai
Doujinka/Circle: Miyajima Aki / Toshimaya
Rating: R
Genre: Serious Story, Romance, Sex and Nudity
Pairing: Shiki x Akira
Description:Акира размышляет над чувствами к Шики, и что притягивает его к Шики.
Here