In the middle of the desert you can say anything you want
“The law dictates that performance increases with physiological or mental arousal, but only up to a point. When levels of arousal become too high, performance decreases.”
“Romance Sonámbulo” Green, how I want you green. Green wind. Green branches. The ship out on the sea and the horse on the mountain. With the shade around her waist she dreams on her balcony, green flesh, her hair green, with eyes of cold silver. Green, how I want you green. Under the gypsy moon, all things are watching her and she cannot see them. Green, how I want you green. Big hoarfrost stars come with the fish of shadow that opens the road of dawn. The fig tree rubs its wind with the sandpaper of its branches, and the forest, cunning cat, bristles its brittle fibers. But who will come? And from where? She is still on her balcony green flesh, her hair green, dreaming in the bitter sea. —My friend, I want to trade my horse for her house, my saddle for her mirror, my knife for her blanket. My friend, I come bleeding from the gates of Cabra. —If it were possible, my boy, I’d help you fix that trade. But now I am not I, nor is my house now my house. —My friend, I want to die decently in my bed. Of iron, if that’s possible, with blankets of fine chambray. Don’t you see the wound I have from my chest up to my throat? —Your white shirt has grown thirsty dark brown roses. Your blood oozes and flees a round the corners of your sash. But now I am not I, nor is my house now my house. —Let me climb up, at least, up to the high balconies; Let me climb up! Let me, up to the green balconies. Railings of the moon through which the water rumbles. Now the two friends climb up, up to the high balconies. Leaving a trail of blood. Leaving a trail of teardrops. Tin bell vines were trembling on the roofs. A thousand crystal tambourines struck at the dawn light. Green, how I want you green, green wind, green branches. The two friends climbed up. The stiff wind left in their mouths, a strange taste of bile, of mint, and of basil My friend, where is she—tell me— where is your bitter girl? How many times she waited for you! How many times would she wait for you, cool face, black hair, on this green balcony! Over the mouth of the cistern the gypsy girl was swinging, green flesh, her hair green, with eyes of cold silver. An icicle of moon holds her up above the water. The night became intimate like a little plaza. Drunken “Guardias Civiles” were pounding on the door. Green, how I want you green. Green wind. Green branches. The ship out on the sea. And the horse on the mountain.
As you can see, the maps are more different than they appear at first glance. And each map shows a surprisingly different view of the world. We’ll be examining these differences, and many others, as we continue on.
"This came about in the midst of an (ongoing) obsessive inquiry into a cluster of topics roughly related to "effectiveness" while stumbling through various mountain ranges and cities in central europe and the american northeast."
A very good example of what I like – learning things from many different areas and using them to create something not existing for one’s own needs.
Site to create your own newsletters
“The talk will include tips on writing reusable scripts, the basics of Git and Github, the importance of READMEs and software licenses, and creation of reproducible Python environments with Conda.”
“It’s a picture of an IE7 browser running on Windows Vista in the transparent Aero Glass theme with a page containing a JPEG of an IE7 browser running on Windows XP in the Luna aka Fisher Price theme?” I pointed out.
An interesting idea would be a chrome extension that makes every secure site recognizable by making a small gravatar-like icon — like https://www.w3.org/2005/Security/usability-ws/papers/02-hp-petname/ , but graphic. It would be interesting from a graphic-design perspective too.