On the day of my death,Rion Brodie, circa 2006
I will think of you.
And I’ll be happy.
The Swallow found a home,
In a hollow one day.
Where it could roam freely,
And it decided to stay.
But then its wings were clipped,
It was under control.
By choice, for another,
Who was half of a whole.
The Swallow had settled
For a number of years,
Subdued by love; Bliss,
Unprepared for the tears.
When the winds picked up,
And the storm rolled in,
When the half was lost,
The Swallow took wing.
It was free to soar.
Reaching new heights,
But always searching for more.
The Swallow was fleeing
Everything from the past.
Too lost on the currents.
Too adrift in the vast.
After the storms, the winds,
After escape became home,
The world was kept floating,
To flee feeling alone.
After years, nothing changed,
Everything; still hollow.
The old life still gone.
But there’s always the Swallow.
The Swallow, by rionhunter
(Originally for a poetry competition a few months back)
I did this awesome thing where I exposed my eye-socket flesh for an uncomfortable amount of time in the first video on my relaunched personal vlog channel, that you should totally check out and subscribe to.
I’m going to be documenting my efforts as I animate a short film, launch a charity, write a book and whatever other crazy stuff I’ll get up to in the future.
In all seriousness, I love everything you’ve done, but for Tumblr to keep progressing, you’re going to need to address some of the problems people have been complaining about for YEARS.
Reblogging text posts, and having them truncated because they’re not ‘text post’ in the option up the top right. Can you please make ‘text’ post the default for ‘text’ posts, and have a forced ‘read more’ instead of linking to a different page.
The video player. Seriously, Yahoo has a better video player. You and them are buds. Just take theirs.
Move the blog option, when reblogging, to down beside the reblog button, instead of way the fuck up the top of the page. Long posts take years of scrolling, and there’s no real point to have it up there.
The search bar in people’s blogs have never worked. At any point.
The comment system that’s currently implemented, where the most recent person’s comment is way down the bottom, but the name of the person who said it is up the top, with a thin line we have to trace down? We all do it systematically now, to the point where we don’t really notice, but it is honestly the stupidest commenting system I have ever seen on any website ever.
Some way of being able to see when someone adds a comment to your post, without scrolling through endless notes. That would be not only fantastic, but really obvious.
The fact that I had to make this a photo post just so the text wouldn’t be cut off is dumb. Like, the point of a text post is text, and the point of a photo post is photos. Why is it that text posts are the ones that get destroyed as soon as they’re longer than 10 lines, and yet these can go on forever? Again, a ‘read more’ that shows the rest of the text, instead of cutting the post in half, and showing a link earlier on, without conveying that there’s more to the post, is dumb.
I know people have some attachment to this current system. If not just for the exploits that have been quite fun over the years. But think about any other comment system, implemented on tumblr. It would be amazing.
Alternate blog modes. You have it in the apps, but not on the desktop. This is where you can switch which blog you’re posting too, and it stays on that blog until you change it. This is great when you’re going down a tag that’s specific to one of your side blogs.
Maybe, at some point, being able to change your primary blog without up-ending everything would be a nice option. I obviously don’t know the implications doing this would cause, but there must be some. Otherwise, I feel it should be something that should have existed a long time ago.
Other than that, great work. Love your stuff. Sorry for the naughty words.
The universe is constantly expanding in all directions, so that the space between everything is constantly growing larger.
Because of this, from where we stand, everything is moving away from us, in every direction. This illusion happens from every point in the universe.
At any point the universe is being perceived, that exact point of perception is the centre of the universe.
So the fact that you’re alive means you’re the centre of the universe, and I think that’s something everyone should feel special about.
I made a response to this, but unfortunately, tumblr has a way of eating up anything more than 10 lines long, and it got a little lost. So, even though I’m not Hank, I thought I would make a full post explaining the science.
To understand why it’s happening, though, I’m going to have to quickly explain to you what is happening first.
Hopefully we all know that animation (and film) is just a collection of images, flashed in quick succession. The motion that we see, however, is pieced together in our brains, thanks to a thing called ‘persistence of vision’.
Persistence of Vision is caused by the lag in your brain. Seriously.
That brief instant it takes for your brain to understand what it’s seeing is the reason you’re able to watch movies. And we should be thankful for that brief instant.
Light comes into your eyeballs, and it’s crazy hectic data. There’s so much stuff happening all the time everywhere. And while our brains are good, they can’t process everything they’re seeing at light speed. Everything we perceive through our retinas is just light, bouncing off other things. We all know that, but it’s something we often forget.
The brain processes one instant of reality, then a snapshot of the next, and then the next, and so on, and pieces them together to create motion.
This is everything. This is your entire reality. The perception of instances blended together to form a delicious smoothy of senses.
For motion to be consistent, however, what it’s seeing needs to resemble what it was seeing the moment before. For example, for objectX to look like it’s moving, it needs to mostly be where it was the microsecond before, but slightly not.
Basically, you need to think about those ol’ claymations kids make, where the lego slowly edges fowards. You need to take that concept, and apply it to everything you’ve ever known and loved.
If objectX doesn’t overlap where it was before, it’ll look liked it appeared there out of nowhere or a whole new objectX. This is when the illusion of movement is broken. It doesn’t occur in live-action movies or reality as much, because it’s hard to break the illusion of reality when you’re in reality, whereas to create a realistic perception of reality, from nothing, on a screen?
Yeah, a little trickier.
In an industry setting, animators have to create at least 25 frames for every second of footage (FPS). And sometimes, in that 25 frames, animators need to have something move so fast on a frame, that it doesn’t overlap its previous self.
Their solution, as you probably know, is to stretch and contort their object in a way that’s not dissimilar from motion blur with cameras. Especially when you acknowledge that motion blur is everything that’s happening for that 1/25th of a second.
Again, a lot of this is common knowledge, but it’s a matter of how it all pieces together to work.
As you can see here, in figure A, the hotdogs are smoothly sliding out at a consistent speed, which means, if you were to mark each spot they were in every frame, the marks would make a straight line.
The intervals between each marking isn’t very much, because they’re moving quite slowly. The hotdogs are mostly overlapping themselves between each frame.
Now remember that the illusion of movement is all in your brain, where it looks for something that resembled the instant before, and projects trajectory into your concious.
The only reason you’re able to reverse the flow of hotdogs is because they look so similar, and because it’s literally all in your head.
When you make yourself think the flow of hotdogs is going into this fine gentleman’s pants, you’re making yourself believe that, in one frame, hotdogX moves almost a whole hotdog length down, instead of only a little bit of a hotdog length up.
And because it’s almost a whole hotdog length down, in just one frame, the distance of the intervals along the hotdog’s trajectory increases, which means it travels more distance in the same amount of time.
In that one instance of perceived reality (IPR)(Don’t use that anywhere serious, I just made that up), the hotdog moves 9 pixels, instead of 2 (approx.)(I’m not going to count them)
So, to summarize the answer to your question (aka TL:DR);
The reason why the ‘dogs fly into his pants faster is because your brain lag enables you to perceive motion through light (it likes things that look the same). And when things look the same, you can screw with your brain something hardcore.
When you force your brain to see things at different intervals, it can change how you perceive them.
look out world, july cinnabon flavored coffee chillatta is on his way
june matzoh ball soup
I was nervous. I had never done anything like this before.
Night had settled over the city like a cold, wet blanket, bringing with it a frosty edge that would gnaw at any exposed skin. An unpleasant time of year.
Each breath was hanged in the air before me; a burst of fresh death floating up before me. It was only visible in the headlights of the passing cars. The road would cry its quiet song, with each passing car brandishing the tears of the freshly melted snow.
I didn’t want to be out here. Doing this. My heart, the thing that pumped the blood of chance, would skip a beat every time a car slowed down. I willed them to go on. I knew I was out here. I knew what it was all for.
But, god, I did not want them to stop.
A train passed overhead. Clacking and grinding pierced the silent night, and it ground upon my nerves, setting me on edge.
Another car passed on the wet road, with its distinct howl.
The bleakness was all encompassing and consuming. I didn’t want to be here. I didn’t want to do this.
But choices have to be made, and none of them are mine.
Here I am. How bitter and husk; death swelling at the lips, as I tried to kill my insides.
Headlights had started to slow down. I had known, as soon as they had turned the corner four blocks back. But now they started to slow down.
And I needed to be dead inside. From now.
From now until I can live again.
If that ever happens.
The window buzzed down; a swarm of angry bees, screaming at me, telling me to run. A cloud of death escaped his lungs into the icy night, smoke. The voice of the devil, almost pleasant on the still air, slid out from the car, inviting me over.
The car itself was nice. Black, new and very, very expensive.
I edged forward, killing and detaching myself from it all. I became the puppeteer to my own limbs, watching from some vague distance.
"How much?" He asked.
I told him it depended on what he wanted. I had it all worked out, but I couldn’t help but boosting the prices, just to discourage him.
This was all a mistake. I didn’t want to be here, and any other way would be better.
The way his smokey breath hung on the air, sucked from the toxins grasped between his slender, immaculate hands. The way his smile split across his face like an ax wound, filled with joyous malice.
"Well, why don’t you come in, out of the cold, and we can discuss prices," he slithered. In any other circumstance, I could have found him attractive. But this made him vile.
I gave up on any vestige of hope. I gave it up then and there, as I walked around and pulled open the passenger door. It was then I gave up on me. I could feel it. The base of my everything slipped. My body felt like it was drooping through its frame, and an ache gaped wide within me. A raw crevice of defeat billowed and flared, and as I sat down in the seat, his hand slipped from the gearshift, to my thigh.
My whole kept falling and falling, away from my Now. My eyes looked up at him, but I was not seeing. It was gone. I was gone.
I had to be.
As he flicked the indicator, and pulled out onto the road, my body became nothing more than a vessel, a tool.
"What’s your name?" He queried, hissing and sly, before sucking more death from the embers of cancer.
I told him. He frowned at me slightly, before focusing back on the road.
"How much for a whole night of full service?"
I told him ridiculously inflated prices. Nearly twenty times the standard.
"You wouldn’t be boosting your prices just because I drive a fancy car, would you?" He grinned at me.
Clarifying, I told him it was not. My voice was barely a whisper on the breeze of the car’s heated air.
"So you’re boosting your prices for something else?"
I didn’t even want to be here.
Silence was my response, but he was undeterred.
"So," he pursued, before whispering my name. The same, revolting grin scrawled across his face again, as his hand moved from the gearshift again.
"Are you from around here?"
I wasn’t. I had only moved to this dreary town a year ago. I had risked everything on a chance. A hope. A dream. I had finished my book, and I was going to take it to the big city, and get it published.
Things hadn’t worked out so well though.
I didn’t tell him any of this though. I just sat there, staring at the car’s emblem, inwardly cursing myself for not realizing how little money would mean to someone who drove such a car.
His gentleman mask was well fastened, and his need for small talk ensued.
"Nothing? Well… What do you do with your spare time, other than work?"
Hunt. I scoured the streets, taking my transcript to every printer in town. My funds were quickly drying up. I only had enough for one more week’s rent, and a packet of two-minute noodles.
The Winter had made it trickier to negotiate the streets, and with that, had come even harder times.
And so here I was, in a luxury super-sedan, wearing the least I could without freezing to death, with the Devil’s hands as idle playthings.
"Not chatty, I get it," he observed, in a venomous purr, "At least explain your name."
My eyes rolled like the waves upon the rocky shore.
I explained it to him. He didn’t ask any more questions.
"We’re getting close now. My place is on the next block over."
Though I’d been hoping for it, though every fiber of my body had been willing for it to happen, when the car suddenly slipped on some black ice, I knew I hadn’t really wanted to die. There was still so much I needed to do.
The car quickly spun out, into an intersection. I couldn’t see anything but lines of light, drawn by the traffic lights. The howling of the tyres across the road was louder now than ever before. We hit something, or something hit us. Mayhem rendered me a little disoriented, as every window shattered, as the roof was almost pulled off. The car slid to a rest.
With no windows, and only half a ceiling, the cold was quick to seep in and embrace me, one last time.
I exhaled slowly. My breath was hanged in the air before me, illuminated by the light of an oncoming vehicle. I looked across at the driver. He was dead, or unconscious.
I looked back up at the headlights. The ex-expensive car was resting across the road, with my door facing the oncoming traffic. The oncoming vehicle (a truck, I quickly learned) saw the black car a little too late. When it went to apply the brakes, however, they hit the same black ice we did.
The road howled and cried, and as I watched my death; hanged in the air before me. The horn of the truck wailed and pierced through the still air like sandpaper to the nerves.
I had spent my lifetime listening to music. It had compelled me, it had moved me to tears. Music had made me, and it had broke me. And in my final moments, I couldn’t help but feel, with a tinge of sadness, that the horn’s blare being the last thing I’d ever hear was the worst tragedy of all.
Of all the beauty and the wonder and the joy, this was my swansong. It Dopplered closer and closer. The truck crashed through me instantly, but it took forever to hit.
All the while, its driver held down the bugle, its siren, its victory song.
If death hadn’t hugged me from within just moments earlier, the whole experience could have been more traumatic.
But I was already gone.
I had already left.
The truck crushed my vessel, and it joined me.
He would go on to live, of course. The Jaws of Life would pry him out. To get me out of the very, very expensive coffin, they would have to use sponges and a spoon.
By the time they tracked down my apartment, I’d been evicted, and most of my contents discarded. No track of my real name could be found anywhere. In the end, they had to go with what I’d given Him, including my explanation.
Many objected, but in the end, there was no alternative.
Upon my grave, it reads
| Unidentified body, known only as |
| August Milo Cereal |
| You know, the duo kind? |
| That has white flake things as well? |
| Yeah, that kind. Oh, you’re American? |
| Well, Milo is like nesquick, |
| only with more ‘health benefits’ |
| & better flavor. And there’s a cereal. |
| This joke is ruined if you’re American. |
| Sorry. |
(And my tombstone is ruined if you’re on mobile)
Sometimes I wonder how my face is.. the same face.
Going through the photos my phone, found all these I took of some second hand store’s doll section.
It took me about 4 days, and I got about a cover done a day. I’ve never done digital painting on this level before, and was constantly surprised at the results as I was drawing this (especially the flower).
I was really hoping DFTBA records would pick these up as posters, as they’re the only website that could sell them in sets, plus being.. y’know, really suitable. I’ve gotten hundreds of requests for posters, but they seem completely disinterested, so I’ll try and sort something out for everyone (probably involving redbubble).
If you’re interested in buying a poster I would suggest following me here on tumblr. I’ll certainly be vocal about it if I work it out. And who knows, if all goes well, maybe I’ll do more stuff like this in the future.
My life is nonstop.I am never bored. I am always creating, or putting off what I'm supposed to be doing.
Feminist, pro-choice, anti-rape-culture, vocal about itSubscribe via RSS.