...Taking a second look at the first two paintings, Moran’s “Fiercely the Red Sun Descending Burned His Way Among the Heavens,” and Turner’s “Slave Ship,” one can note the drastic amplification provided by Moran. When studying in England in 1862, Thomas Moran was struck with inspiration when he viewed Turner’s works. Upon viewing “Slave Ship,” a painting that captured the transatlantic slave trade and “heightened the malevolence of the story by marshaling all the forces of nature—a roiling, inky sea, a livid sun, and an angry, incendiary sky—creating a setting fit for the Apocalypse,” Moran was inspired by the style of the painting and sampled the style in a different context (Coffey). In Turner’s “Slave Ship,” the focus is not the sun, but the malevolence of the ship itself as it sails across these choppy waters. However, Moran’s use of contrast between very cool colors to very warm colors in “Fiercely the Red Sun Descending Burned His Way Among the Heavens” immediately attracts attention to the sun and it’s brightness in the painting. The brushstrokes from the water to the rocky mountains are quite thin and choppy, but those of the sun are deep, rich, and intense. The brightness and intensity create a blinding and volcanic sun...
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...Kikue Shiota remembers it was a beautiful day on the day of the bombing. Suddenly there was a loud boom and a bright flash “like a thousand magnesium bulbs had been turned on all at once.” She thought her eyes had been burned. Her house was leveled to the ground, with her and her sister trapped under it. Beams and other pieces of the house were falling on top of them. Kikue soon lost consciousness. Her father saved them from the ruins of their house and took them down to the river. She saw people with their skin peeling off soaking in the river. She compared it to the skin of a tomato. She looked out at the city and saw a sea of flames. Then the skies turned dark and a black, inky rain began to fall. She walked through the city trying to find...
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...A most impressive place I’ve ever been After seeing so many views, a place kept occupying the most in my heart, which is named after Phoenix. A county of western Hunan province on the Luxi province border , at the south of Huaihua zone, covered an area of 1759.1 k㎡. Because of the rain, it has already turned into dark when we arrived. A blast of wind firstly blowed the smell of Phoenix County, mixed with the flavor of wet earth and grass, into my nose. It refreshed me soon and took all the discomfort away. As soon as I placed my luggage, I flew out from the hotel and couldn’t wait to unveil the view any more. In the dim light, I began to observe this lovely village. Even though it was evening, the phoenix was still shining and touching. On the both side of the road, fascinating bars lined abreast. Happy laughers and cheerful voices came out, enticing smell of food drifted in the air. A range of ethnic goods displayed at the roadside stands. The Tuo River just goes across the county from the west side to the east side, separating this town into two parts. However, those two parts are connected by a special kind of bridge, called ‘hundred- step bridge’. Strictly speaking, it’s not a bridge but a construction built with hundreds of respective stones. My foot stamped down on those stones as discreet as possible. Noises continued spreading from side to side until the night was filled with boisterous scenes. Bright lights reflected upon the water, breezes swept over causing many...
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...In Separate Skies A pallid disc amid the black, Moon was alone—alone, in spite of all the stars in the sky. Although they danced and twinkled and whispered sweet things across time to one another, they spoke not a word to that cratered outcast that nestled itself so close to that which was called Earth. So alone was Moon, in that inky darkness, that she waned and wavered in the sky. Her loneliness seemed to consume her, eat her piece by piece, letting the blackness creep in until it devoured her whole and she was reborn once more, birthed back into the cold night sky—new, but still alone. Her only reprieve from her loneliness, her only solace, could solely be found in those last hours of the night, when a glorious, yellow light crept...
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...Once, when I was a child, my grandmother, father and I were walking in a nature reserve. We had recently had a barbeque and my grandmother was carrying a plastic bag full of hamburger buns. Soon a gaggle of ducks began to follow us. They trailed along, quacking, butting their heads into our legs, click-clacking their little webbed feet down the cement pathway. Finally fed up, my grandmother spun around and faced them. "Leave us alone, you needy ducks!" she shouted. "Go home! Your parents must be worried sick." When the ducks wouldn't leave, my grandmother started hitting them on their heads with the plastic bag of hamburger buns. It was funny. If you'd known my grandmother, how defined by hardship her life was, you would have found this incident even funnier. My father, who knew his mother's struggles all too well, had to lean against a tree because he was laughing so hard. Sweet mercy, there is nothing like humor to ease the soul. If you've got a funny story, poem, or essay of your own, here are some places that might be a good fit. Enjoy! THE ALARMIST is a fresh, new, dark, funny and twisted printed literary magazine published biannually. It’s not about trying to prove how clever or well-read you are, mind – we’re not the Paris Review. We want to buck the modern trend, and tickle and entertain with what we publish. ASININE POETRY is the journal of asinine poetry, a quarterly publication of asinine poetry, poetry that is, shall we say, asinine. To wit: Not necessarily...
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...Of the paintings from Zimmerli Museum that I may write about, I choose the one of the little boy. In my paper, I will verbally explore every aspect of this portrait. The focus of this painting is a young child, roughly 10-11 years in age. He is dressed solemnly in a cream-colored t-shirt layered with a grayish-green button-down, collared shirt, matched in color to his pants, along with a simple brown belt. He is a brunette with big brown doe eyes, and the dark, inky color of his hair and eyes sets off the rather paleness of his skin. His eyes are very prominent and immediately grab your attention, while his thin rose colored lips seem to disappear into a thin line as one stares into the holes of his eyes. His ears seem to be on the larger side for a boy his size, suggesting an extra sense of hearing and understanding. Slouched on a brown, most likely wooden, chair, he stares deeply past the viewer. He relaxes very comfortably in the chair, comforted by the closeness of his shadow. As one looks into his eyes, you can tell he is seeing far away. Hopeful is a word that could be used to describe the emotion one can feel from his eyes. It is if he is waiting for something or someone. His laid-back posture suggests that he has been waiting a very long time, and since there is no hurry in his demeanor, one senses that he will continue to be waiting a long time. Despite his young age, the boy radiates patience, with no signs of worry or distress. One can imagine that this...
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...The black screen hung at an angle with its broad, rectangular face, blinks into action. At first, all it shows is grey static lines, before the screen goes dark. For a second, it seems as if the screen has shut off again until a low noise can be heard, a growling moan. It seems weak, pained as if the noise itself wasn’t worth the struggle. Then, as if a tarp was removed, the inky blackness fades to the corners of the screen as a spotlight is shown on a figure, in a rusty, metal chair. The figure seems to be bound to the chair, bronzed metal braces covering their wrists, ankles, and thighs, all tight. The figure sees to be wearing a blue and crimson bodysuit, wait, was it always red? No. You look up and see Maya, her hair cut short, giving her...
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...Without prior knowledge of tactics related to the game, a new player will spend his first moments playing the game relying entirely on improvisation, usually by going throughout the level and only diverting from the most optimal path towards the dots when an enemy is blocking their path. However, when a player starts to play more, they start to realize patterns in the ghost movements. Blinky will always try to race you down, Pinky will try to cut you off, Inky will randomly just chase spots on the stage, and Clyde will sometimes sit in a corner or just straight up run away from Pac Man. The ghosts will also sometimes just veer off and run to separate corners of the map, seemingly at random. As the player begins to notice these little quirks about the ghosts's AI, they will begin their planning, figuring out which areas of the map are the safest, starting routes where the ghosts will be guaranteed not to hit the player, etc. And once they plan out a certain course, they practice. They play through the level repeatedly, changing little details to make it faster, or easier to remember, and lead to the player perfecting their game, allowing them to reach higher and higher...
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...eception Theory and Les Liaisons Dangereuses (Dangerous Liaisons) Of all the literary critical theories yet discussed, I find reception theory by far the most intelligent and rewarding. After all, where does literature become literature, where does it "happen" so to speak, if not in the mind of the reader? Without the reader, literature is inky blobs on paper. This correlates to Berkeley's solipsistic analogy of a tree falling in the woods. Without a listener does it make a sound? Well, technically, it emanates vibrations, but only an ear will interpret those vibrations as sound. Thus with literature. The mind of the reader, operating on the text with it's various literary and extra-textual codes, makes it literature. In the case of Les Liaisons Dangereuses, reception theory is not only helpful, it is positively essential to any sort of literary discussion of the novel. Considerations of authorial intent are clearly to no avail, in that, due to the epistolary format, no such intent can be gleaned from the text. Try as we might to construct some sort of original meaning in the mind of the author, we find at last that the meanings we come up with have been supplied by ourselves. Laclos is like the hand of the puppeteer: we never see it, although we know that it is controlling the whole show. All we see are the ornate, 18th century marionettes as they dance through each dastardly deception, each "dangerous liaison." Even more maddening than trying to find authorial intent...
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...Title: An Inky Study on the Internet Company & URL: MARCOP INK & TONER CO. Company’s Website: http://www.marcopinkandtoner.net/about.html Company’s Facebook page: http://www.facebook.com/marcop.inktonerco?sk=wall Other websites: http://www.tipidpc.com/useritems.php?username=kaspog22 http://pogiako22.sulit.com.ph/ Challenge: * How to generate traffic and making people notice their site/ad. * Converting their traffic to sales, encouraging your visitors to purchase your product. * Earning the trust of their customers to purchase online. * Creating a webpage that's convenient to the customer. * Having a competitive SEO (search engine optimization), would help the customer to easily find their site/page. * Having to compete and raise above all the big time companies. * How capture big clients and loyalty. * How to prioritize the limited resources for better profit. * How to manage an online marketing body or systems. * Converting leading brands to sale. Background: MARCOP INK & TONER CO. was initiated by its corporate owners on January 26, 2006 as a sister company of MARCOP ENTERPRISE. It is a wholesaler and retailer of all types of office supplies, which includes original consumables such as LaserJet toners and DeskJet for HP, Canon, and Epson printer brands and models. The company was built to provide and serve much more companies and institutions with their corporate requirements of all types of office consumables...
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...that children have, such as finding “a good gold star” and “carefully” sharpened pencils, Duffy portrays the differences between the pressures and priorities of childhood to those of an adult life. Familiar childhood memories give the reader a feeling of safety, this technique is also used in Duffy’s poem “Boy” with the phase “I put my pyjamas on ….” Which reveals that boy in this poem feels safe and comfortable in his pyjamas as perhaps this brings back treasured childhood memories. The innocence of a childhood, however, is often spoilt, whether through growing knowledge or experience or whether through growing knowledge or experience or whether it is forced upon the child abruptly. Duffy foreshadows the transition with the phase “inky tadpoles changed from commas into exclamation marks” showing a growth in knowledge from the previous stanzas which featured child-like, bad grammar such as “That for a hour …”. A “rough boy” spoils this child’s innocence and triggers emotional and physical change that is evident in the poem. The word “stared” is isolated on it’s own line to portray the blank and long lasting feeling of shock the child had after learning how they were born. After this...
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...Hamlet has also shown serious signs of major depressive disorder as well, which can often go hand-in-hand with bipolar disorder. Since there are several types of bipolar disorder, depending on the type of symptoms the patient is experiencing, the symptoms may vary. However, some symptoms of bipolar disorder are shared throughout all types. Hamlet’s symptoms of bipolar disorder could be recited like a laundry list. In addition to his symptoms of depression, his bipolar symptoms include: suicidal thoughts, setting unreachable/impractical goals and alternating between episodes of mania and bouts of depression. After the late king’s death and the remarriage of his mother to his uncle, Hamlet suffered severe depression. “…’Tis not alone, my inky cloak, good mother, nor customary suits of solemn black, nor windy suspiration of forced breath, no nor the fruitful river in the eye, nor the dejected ‘havior of the disage, together with all forms of grief that can denote me truly…” (Shakespeare 25). During this time, Hamlet is also displaying signs of being suicidal, especially when he says, “…oh that this too, too sullied flesh would melt, thaw, and resolve itself into a dew, or that the everlasting had not fixed his cannon ‘gainst. O God,...
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...Heaven or Hell is a short story based on a true historical event. The story highlights the inward, the invisible and the intangible power struggles of mankind. The stark descriptions of the reality and horror of war are frightening and shocking to the reader, aimed to affect emotionally and cause them to consider. The story is structured to make the reader visualize pain and death in war – Hell, when everything appears lost and hopeless, and Heaven - heroic and victorious, when the obstacles are overcome and the “Draconic Empire” defeated. The story has a formal register to deliver suspense and the factual horrors of war. This has been achieved in a number of different ways, firstly, the complex sentence, “Sergeant Hugh Mott and his colleagues frantically worked away in the belly of the bridge whilst troops continued to traverse the spine.” This creates formality through its sophisticated structure coupled with a serious and impersonal tone. Standard English also creates formality with the active verb phrase, “With a resounding thud his body hit the cliff”. There is no slang or dialect which helps to develop the formal and complex tone intended. The use of lexis, with the polysyllabic words, also creates a formal tone. The verbs, “surging”, “paralysing”, “illuminated”, and the pre-modifying adjective, “terrifying” are all a formal use of lexis. The story also avoids abbreviations such as the pronoun and verb, “He had”, instead of “He’d” which is more informal. Heaven or Hell...
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...As inky darkness sank into the sky,black clouds sprawled across the sky. The city was a labyrinth of lights and noise with twinkling lights. The maze of the buildings and streets were packed with businessmen furiously pushing past each other to get to their offices. The buildings were tinted bronze in the faltering light, the gloomy mood of the sky spreading over the city. A small slender figure stared at the sky while entering a building which was a jungle of steel and glass and it grew right out of the concrete city. Locks of blonde hair settled on her shoulders as they framed her pale face. She stood at the lift impatiently tapping her foot against the polished marble floor. Her right arm draped across her slender body,...
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...Night time in space It is very easy to get busy up here and forget to “stop and smell the roses” as it were. (I think that is probably true for all of us everywhere!) So after dinner and before bedtime tonight I finally stopped and took a moment to watch the world go by during a night pass. It seems like it has been a while since I have done this. There are always excuses…other things that have to get done, e-mails to write, feet to warm up, too tired, there is always another day...blah, blah, blah. But I put my foot down, figuratively speaking, and took the time. We were passing up through the Atlantic going north across Africa and Europe and arcing down through Asia to come out east of Australia and New Zealand into the Pacific. I do not know exactly where we were but it was already night when I positioned myself at the docking compartment window. I think it was the one facing more starboard. I always get myself mixed up when I go into that module; I can never easily find the hatch again. It is completely night. There are thunderstorms across Africa and lightning is everywhere; bright flashes are going cloud to cloud illuminating the clouds as it arcs from one to the other. It is a private fireworks show. The storm is large and very spread out and at any moment you see 4 or 5 flashes occurring at one time, each one only lasting a moment. The colors range from something orange-ish to blue-white. Some are more like balls of light while others have that characteristic...
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