The Roads Not Taken For Free

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Genres: Drama
country: UK
Summary: The Roads Not Taken is a movie starring Javier Bardem, Elle Fanning, and Salma Hayek. Sally Potter's film follows a day in the life of Leo (Javier Bardem) and his daughter, Molly (Elle Fanning), as he floats through alternate lives
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The Roads Not Taken Watch stream new. I could not travel both as being one traveller. I took the road less taken. N that made all difference?. This poem is one of my favorite... It was thr in our 9 th textbook. Thank you... The Roads Not Taken Watch streaming. I have another Robert Frost poem, oh god, I'll come back to this and edit it... The roads not taken watch streamers. The Roads Not Taken Watch streaming sur internet. Unsung heroes: Reconceptualizing a video game as a work of art. Jessica Hoffmann Davis, EdD () The doorbell rang just as the doctor at St. Denis (a fictive town in the video game Red Dead Redemption 2) was telling Arthur, (my playable character in the 80+ hour game) that he had incurable tuberculosis. Devastated, I raced to the door, explained quickly to the technician that I couldn’t sign anything for the moment, and rushed back to finish watching that cinematic cut into the regular action of the game. As I returned to the door, I could hear the technician stifling a laugh. Clearly, he found it amusing that a woman of my advanced age was immersed in a video game. “Which one? ” he asked pleasantly. “ Red Dead Redemption 2, ” I replied, and his mouth fell open. “You know it? ” I asked. “Who doesn’t? ” he exclaimed. And of course, he did. Red Dead Redemption 2 (RDR2) was one of the hottest games of 2018. The New York Times reported it making $725 million in the first three days it opened, making it the “highest grossing opening weekend of any entertainment product?ever” (Suderman, NYT, 11/25/18, p. 8). “I tried it, ” he said, “but I don’t really have time to stay with the story with two young children climbing all over me. ” Yes, that would be hard. For me, at this stage in my life, my only regular interruption was my little dog who thought the horses, dogs, and other animals so realistically portrayed in Red Dead Redemption 2 were in the room with us. Lucky was also frightened by the sound of shooting guns that admittedly happened frequently throughout the game. “How’d you get into it? ” the technician asked. “My son is Dutch van der Linde. ” Dutch is the sophisticated enchanting evil manipulative philosophic idealistic intellectual outlaw whose charisma and treachery are at the center of the game. “You mean the character in the game is like your son? ” “No”, I replied, “the character in the game is my son. ” He was baffled. “The actor who plays Dutch van der Linde is my son. ” “Oh. you mean, he gave the voice to the animated figure? ” Apparently, this guy had never heard of performance capture and how the game’s animation is framed by digital recordings of the actual actions and expressions of the actors. “Performance capture. ” I explained, “you know they wear the leotards with electric ping pong balls all over them? ” “Oh yeah, ” the technician nodded, clearly impressed, unsure by what. “Well, good luck with it, ” the young man said, “Hope you win. ” Win? Proof positive that he had never played Red Dead Redemption 2, a game that has no winners or losers and a course of action determined by individual players. For most of the time, as the only playable character Arthur Morgan, (a misguided big-hearted gunslinger), you’re an actor in the theater of the game, riding your horse, tackling missions as directed, trying to do your best. For the rest of the time, you’re the director, deciding what comes next in the narrative, making choices that range from virtuous vs. damnable courses of action to what outfit your character will wear. Fully within the shape and direction of the narrative, you are co-constructor of a story…or is it a movie? Now and then, with filmed action cut-scenes, it definitely is. Either way, the New York Times calls the game a “work of art” (ibid, p. 8); an online fan calls it an “experience”; I call it an “adventure. ” No, a “story. ” No, a movie in which I am the protagonist and the director. A reader of lines; a writer of outcomes. I agree. “A work of Art. ” Origins My son, actor Benjamin Byron Davis, worked on the Red Dead Redemption 2 project for five years. Five years of flying back and forth between Los Angeles and New York, memorizing countless lines (the script was 2000 pages long), rehearsing in locations on either coast, performing in black spandex “mo-cap” (motion capture) suits, gun belts at his side, riding a saw horse that would appear as a Tennessee Walker or an Arabian, imagining in a warehouse studio space, the vast landscape of the wild west. Reportedly, the hardest part of it all was the non-disclosure agreement that the ensemble signed, assuring Rockstar Games that the actors would not reveal a minute of what they were doing prior to release, let alone that they had any knowledge that there would ever be a prequel to the earlier game, Red Dead Redemption. When the game finally emerged, it was met with thunderous enthusiasm and commentary suggesting it had broken the boundaries between technology and art, exploring territory traditionally reserved for the arenas of dramatic or cinematic arts. Beautifully written, gorgeously acted, and outrageously picturesque, the game welcomes players into an imaginary world in which they can ride their horses all night, explore new directions as the sun rises, pause to camp under a shading tree or alongside a slippery river, feel a gentle rain, marvel at a star studded sky, and inter-relate with characters as close as fellow outlaws in the Van der Linde gang and as mysterious as strangers alongside an unknown road. The terrain would become familiar, the dead tree marking the road to camp, the tree lined path to the Braithwaite Manor. the train tracks, water ways, and jagged narrow mountain paths. But I knew nothing of this when the Red Dead Redemption 2 ensemble of performance capture artists came to FanExpo Boston at the Boston Convention Center in August, 2019. The Fans I had never attended a fan expo or comic-con before. These conventions famously provide a venue where literally thousands of comic book/video game fans can gather. Walking about as if it was another day at the mall, are life sized superheroes, video game characters, and other creative inventions of comic book types. The costumes are pristine and professional looking and even the youngest children look as if they’ve just emerged from their movie trailers down the street. Walking through galleries of booths selling such collectible objects as original artwork and vintage comic books or giving away trinkets that promote an upcoming game, I was struck by the creativity with which the atmosphere was infused. And when I reached the designated area in which fans could actually meet their favorite video game actors and get an autograph or a selfie, I was astonished by the length of the lines. I knew this happened around the world; Benjamin had already taken part in conventions in Hawaii, Philadelphia, Texas, and Kuwait. But what impressed me greatly, moved some chord within that is devoted to the arts in education, was that practically all of the fans waiting on line to meet the real Dutch van der Linde, had a gift in hand. The gifts were drawings of Dutch from various scenes in the game, or “wanted” posters of the artist’s design-an artistic response to the work of art that was the game; and the artwork itself was first rate. Surely some were more crudely drawn than others, but all the work presented had clearly been crafted with care and affection. Reflection Later, Dutch van der Linde (Benjamin) and Arthur Morgan (Roger Clark) sat on a panel and talked about the experience of working on Red Dead Redemption 2, the challenge of learning masses of lines in short periods of time, developing a role over time, working in those spandex suits, and especially the non-disclosure agreement that kept them from telling anyone what they were up to until release. It made the ensemble closer, only being allowed to talk about it all with each other. And then the questions came from the audience. I was sitting between Captain Marvel and I think the Joker, in a room filled with costumed articulate adults framing the most sophisticated questions, reflecting their knowledge of the narrative of the game, the process of production, and its place in the greater context of video game play, culture, and history. “What other artistic arena was it most like? ” “Literature. ” The actors replied. “When did Arthur discover Dutch wasn’t all he had thought he was? ” and among this interesting back and forth, an occasional fan would ask Arthur to call his horse or Dutch to say out loud the resonant phrase, “I have a plan. ” The fans waxed rhapsodic about the performances and I realized two things: 1) the attachment these players felt with the actors from the game was more intimate and profound than the connection audiences have with actors in plays and movies: and 2) the only way I would get to experience my son’s celebrated performance was to learn to play Red Dead Redemption 2. The Challenge It was then that I bought a copy of the game (RDR2) and a Play Station 4 (PS4), the video console that enables game play. Installing the PS4 was not complicated but it took me a few days to find the courage to think that I was capable. The console came with a controller with which the player enters and navigates the game and learning how to use that smooth hand-held device took me the better part of two weeks. That was not just because of lack of confidence, not just because I believed that such a device belonged to another generation, but also because the controller is a pretty complicated device. There are so many options for control that I quickly ordered the Red Dead Redemption 2 guidebook which fearsomely is 385 pages long. The print is small. Enter my hand-held large red magnifying glass. I practiced and practiced but mastery came slowly. My ineptitude with the controller prevented me from keeping my horse on a steady keel
The Roads Not Taken Watch stream online. The Roads Not Taken Watch stream.nbcolympics. The Roads Not Taken Watch stream of consciousness. So beautiful. By Bruce Maccabee from Brumac Website This is a discussion of the photographic print obtained by Frank Warren which was made from the original negative. Several different versions are presented in an effort to understand the nature of the “object” (dense smoke? solid body? ) at the convergence of the beams. The date of the photo is Feb 25, 1942. The story of the Battle of Los Angeles near the start of WWII as told by newspapers and witnesses from several sources follows the photo analysis. If anyone has further information on this event, please contact me through this web site. First we have the print as provided by Frank Warren: Next we have some enhanced versions: Sometimes it is helpful to see a negative. One presumes that this is what the actual negative looks like. Self-explanatory: The caption under photo reads: “SEEKING OUT OBJECT - Scores of searchlights built a wigwam of light beams over Los Angeles early yesterday morning during the alarm. This picture was taken during blackout; shows nine beams converging on an object in sky in Culver City area. The blobs of light which show at apex of beam angles were made by anti-aircraft shells. ” To get the true relative image brightnesses it is necessary to scan the original negative and then adjust the “gamma” (relation between film image density and the about of light which made the image) to match the gamma at development. This is typically 1, but they may have pushed the film to a higher gamma to get faint images. There may well be information on the shape of the “object” which is not discernible from the print because apparently the exposure level of the “object” is quite high and so the image may be well into the range of brightness saturation of the print. IF this is so, i. e., if the print image is well saturated, no amount of analysis will “dig out” the totality of brightness information (variations in the high brightness levels) contained within the negative. I don’t know the film speed or the f stop of the camera. However, I would guess that the f-stop was low (lens “wide open”; f/2 or 3? ) and that this is a time exposure because, the light beams show up there are quite a few “explosions” (I presume) which probably did not happen all at once The exposure could have been several seconds. The fact that the beams basically do not get past the “object” (there is some faint evidence of beams above the object), whatever was at the beam convergence must have been optically quite dense. If there was a lot of smoke swirling around the volume of air illuminated by the beams, I would expect to see variations in bream brightness (brighter where there was smoke). There are variations, but they are uniform and agree with the distance (from the searchlight) and width of the beam. That is, the variations are consistent with each beam getting dimmer as it travels away from the searchlight. IF there were smoke within any beam it should cause an increase in scattered light where there is smoke (which is how we see the beams anyway... light bounced or scattered from dust or smoke particles in the air). The beams are quite bright before they reach the “object” and zero or nearly zero afterward. Just how much optical density of smoke this requires I do not know. However, certainly a solid metallic object would be sufficient to block the beams. How large is the “object”? If we knew the distance of the camera from the beam convergence and the focal length of the camera we could calculate the approximate size. This requires knowing what portion of the city the object was over, where the cameraman was, and the altitude of the “object. ” An alternative method is to estimate the diameter of a spotlight beam at some distance from the spotlight and use that width as a reference size. I found a research article by Dr. Louis Eltermann that reports research in the latter 1940’s in which he used an army searchlight to probe the upper atmosphere in order to determine the vertical distribution of dust in the atmosphere. Note: Eltermann was the author of the infamous Project Twinkle Report in November, 1951, which ignored or “covered up” or, at the very least, misrepresented, the White Sands movie film that proved unidentified objects were flying around. See THE UFO-FBI CONNECTION by Bruce Maccabee [Llewellyn, St. Paul, MN, 2000. Also, ] Eltermann described the searchlight as being 5 ft in diameter and with a divergence of about 1. 25 degrees or about 20 milliradians. This means that the diameter at a distance d from the mirror would be about D = 5’+0. 02d. Thus at 1000 ft the diameter would be about 25 ft. Of course, the beam is not uniformly bright across its diameter, so the effective diameter might be closer to 20 feet. Consider the beam at the right side of the photo. It protrudes upward at some angle, probably not the angle in the photo. Suppose the elevation angle were 30 degrees. The “object” width is oriented horizontally (parallel to the ground) whereas the beam is assumed to be tilted at about 30 degrees. Hence the horizontal width of the beam, W, (not perpendicular to the beam axis) would be W = D/sin (angle of elevation) = D/sin(30) = 2D for the assumed 30 degree elevation angle. Hence if the object were 1000 ft from the projection lens it was about 2 x 25 = 50 ft wide. If at 2000 ft the calculation yields D = 45 ft and W = 90 ft. One estimate of the height of the object was 8, 000 ft. For a 30 degree slant angle of the beam from ground level up to 8, 000 ft the distance along the beam would be about 8, 000/sin 30 = 16, 000 ft. If this were so, then the beam diameter at that height would have been about 165 ft and the horizontal width of the object would have been about 330 ft. If the slant angle of the beam was less than 30 degrees then the calculated sizes would have been larger. Conversely, if the slant angle was greater the calculated sizes would have been smaller. Based on the above calculations, and realizing that a much better estimate could be made if we had more accurate information on the spotlights, camera, etc., I would hazard a guess that the width of the illuminated “object” is on the order of 100 ft or more in size. Without more solid information to go on this has to be no more than a WAG ( guess) (but I bet its close to right! ) (NOTE: if you found this photo-analysis interesting you may want to check out the analyses of other photo cases at. ) THE STORY, AS REPORTED IN VARIOUS SOURCES The following are excerpts from the primary front page story of the LA Times on February 26th. Note that there is not a SINGLE description of the object even though is was clearly locked in the focus of dozens of searchlights for well over half an hour and seen by hundreds of thousands of people: Army Says Alarm Real Roaring Guns Mark Blackout Identity of Aircraft Veiled in Mystery; No Bombs Dropped and No Enemy Craft Hit; Civilians Reports Seeing Planes and Balloon Overshadowing a nation-wide maelstrom of rumors and conflicting reports, the Army’s Western Defense Command insisted that Los Angeles’ early morning blackout and anti-aircraft action were the result of unidentified aircraft sighted over the beach area. In two official statements, issued while Secretary of the Navy Knox in Washington was attributing the activity to a false alarm and “jittery nerves, ” the command in San Francisco confirmed and reconfirmed the presence over the Southland of unidentified planes. Relayed by the Southern California sector office in Pasadena, the second statement read: “The aircraft which caused the blackout in the Los Angeles area for several hours this a. m. have not been identified. ” Insistence from official quarters that the alarm was real came as hundreds of thousands of citizens who heard and saw the activity spread countless varying stories of the episode. The spectacular anti-aircraft barrage came after the 14th Interceptor Command ordered the blackout when strange craft were reported over the coastline. Powerful searchlights from countless stations stabbed the sky with brilliant probing fingers while anti-aircraft batteries dotted the heavens with beautiful, if sinister, orange bursts of shrapnel. City Blacked Out For Hours The city was blacked out from 2:25 to 7:21 am after an earlier yellow alert at 7:18 pm was called off at 10:23 pm. The blackout was in effect from here to the Mexican border and inland to the San Joaquin Valley. No bombs were dropped and no airplanes shot down and, miraculously in terms of the tons of missiles hurled aloft, only two persons were reported wounded by falling shell fragments. Countless thousands of Southland residents, many of whom were late to work because of the traffic tie-up during the blackout, rubbed their eyes sleepily yesterday and agreed that regardless of the question of how “real” the air raid alarm may have been, it was “a great show” and “well worth losing a few hours’ sleep. ” The blackout was not without its casualties, however. A State Guardsman died of a heart attack while driving an ammunition truck, heart failure also accounted for the death of an air raid warden on duty, a woman was killed in a car-truck collision in Arcadia, and a Long Beach policeman was killed in a traffic crash enroute to duty. Much of the firing appeared to come from the vicinity of aircraft plants along the coastal area of Santa Monica, Inglewood, Southwest Los Angeles, and Long Beach. The Times editorial reads: “In view of the considerable public excitement and confusion caused by yesterday morning’s supposed enemy air raid over this area and its spectacular official accompaniments, it seems to The Times that more specific public information should be forthcoming from government sources on the subject, if only to clarify their own conflicting statements about it. ” “According to the Associated Press, Secretary Knox intimated that reports of enemy air activity in the Pacific Coastal Region might be d

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Thank you so much for this ??! I love Robert Frost. The following is a transcript from a short radio program that has been picked up by various listeners across the continental United States. Many have been perplexed by its sudden appearance and how it seems to preempt whatever song or radio program they are listening to at the time. It has even been known to appear on streaming programs such as podcasts or Spotify. After experiencing the broadcast myself, I began to seek out and record the experiences of individuals who had heard the radio program. Many have had unique experiences, hearing different scripts on the program and having drastically different consequences. Sasha contacted me via email and we later had a meeting on Skype. She was a young woman in her early twenties and had heard the broadcast while road tripping in California with her friend, Greta. In her email, she was assured and driven. It was important for her to share her story, she said. But as I got her on the screen, as she sat at a desk in a pleasant home office with stark white walls and plenty of natural sunlight, she was tentative and shy at first. She read from a stack of papers in a shaky voice. However, the longer she spoke, the more her voice shed the insecurity and a sly, confident young woman emerged. This is her story. They say that behind every great man is a great woman. What they don’t tell you is behind that great woman is me, taking a picture of that great woman’s behind, making sure that it is framed perfectly in the shot as she stands before some grand vista or gorgeous natural landscape. I’m there to capture the natural beauty of both the scenery and her ass, a perfect upside down heart that’s squeezed into whatever activewear she’s promoting at the time, her thick blonde mane of hair cascading down her back like the many waterfalls she’s posed in front of. Greta was an Instagrammer, an influencer, and I was the one standing behind her, responsible for much of her success as her photographer and caption writer and social media manager. For several years I considered her my best friend. Before I go further, I’d like to preface all of this by saying that my relationship with Greta has always been kind mplicated. And by complicated, I mean borderline exploitative. I believe that in any relationship there are givers and there are takers. Greta was not a giver. This is not to say that she was some awful, soul-sucking bitch, in fact I did have genuine warm feelings towards her and still do to this day. In any abusive relationship, there is some sort of love there, something that drew us to that person initially. That’s what keeps us coming back: the idea that maybe they will change back into the person we revered in the beginning. We met back east in college in a class we were both taking. She approached me with regards to an essay that she needed help with and the friendship blossomed from there. She was charismatic and full of a crackling energy that I was instantly drawn to and I was flattered that she took an interest in me. Sure, it seemed like it was a relationship that was started solely on her needing something, my assistance with her various writing assignments, but she offered much in return and genuinely liked me. What did she offer in return? Adventure and excitement. She talked me into using marijuana for the first time, late nights out in the city with crazy experiences, concerts and Broadway shows, meeting all sorts of new people, my first shot of absinthe, and the travel, oh the travel. I wouldn’t have seen many parts of the world if it wasn’t for her. She came from a rich family and I was on scholarship and had work study to get by. I simply couldn’t afford the lavish trips and restaurants that she took me to. It was always hard to simply turn her down when she invited me out to eat or to a concert or show and I would have to politely decline without giving the real reasons, but she saw through that. “Whatever dude, I’m buying, ” she would say and off we would go. The response was the same when she came with the bright idea that we should fly to Paris on summer break. “Do you know how much homework you’ve helped me with this semester? It’s the least I can do. I do not want to go alone. You’re my PIC. I’ll get your airfare, you just get the meals and maybe buy some wine over there. ” And so we went. It was here that she developed her passion for her Instagram page, even more so than your average college girl. She already had a sizable following of over three thousand followers and I took cute pictures of her all over the city and came up with clever captions. By the time we returned to the states, she had doubled the followers and was discussing it constantly. “You know, we may be onto something here. There’s like these people that do this full time, just fly around and travel and get sponsors and shit. They pay for everything. How cool is that? ” The rest of the summer was filled with adventures and shenanigans, me the ever tag-along, taking photos of her and validating her every move: long weekends at the Hamptons, cocktails at rooftop bars in NYC, fashion galas, and a hike in the Adirondacks so she “wouldn’t appear too metropolitan. ” It was here that Sasha paused in her story and stared off into space. Reflecting, perhaps? How was this story going to end? What broadcast did Buck Hensley present to them? What rule was obeyed or ignored? “Sasha? ” “Oh, sorry. ” She continued. I couldn’t really keep up with her financially, but she paid for lots of amenities: meals, hotels, transportation. “Don’t worry about it, ” she would say. “You’re like my publicist. We’re growing followers all the time. I really think this will work. We need to think bigger. You consider yourself the manager. It's our brand, I'm just the face of it. " Despite whatever support I received, it still would clean me out?pride kept me from outright begging every time? and I lived constantly on the verge of overdraft from my checking account. I didn’t want to miss out on all of the fun and excitement though; she had me addicted. But I often wished she would take it easy and we could just relax and do more low key activities, activities that I would suggest and that she would shoot down. She didn’t have a boyfriend and never strived for anything long term. “I don’t need no man, ” she would say. “They’ll only keep me from reaching my full potential. Once I reach that I'll reconsider. " This is not to say that she didn’t enjoy male attention?she very much did?and she was prone to random hookups and casual flings. I didn’t like these types of relationships and the particular kind of sleazy douchebag guys that flocked to her at the different bars we would frequent. I did have genuine warm feelings towards her and still do to this day. I was often left to fend for myself with the friends and most of the time I was able to fight them off, but alcohol and exhaustion and boredom led to too many mornings where I would awaken in a strange location and a depressing subway ride home, hating myself and the night I could barely remember. It was times like these where I felt like Greta was dragging me down. Ultimately, I knew I was an adult and made my own decisions, but I wished she did a better job of looking out for me sometimes. I was losing myself in her, remaking myself into a person I wasn’t, and I couldn’t get off the carousel that was continuing to spin faster and faster and out of control. She broke 100k followers by the fall semester and had gained several sponsors, getting her first checks and free products. I got the hand me down products, the items she didn’t want and she gave me a cut of the profits for taking the pictures and writing the captions. I never knew exactly how much she got paid and if I was getting a fair share. I didn’t think about getting a lawyer or drawing up a contract. It was just a casual affair and I was frankly happy at that point to be getting any money. Greta continued to gain followers, the growth seemingly exponential and we got busier and busier. My grades began to slip that semester and I think Greta’s did as well. She dropped classes and wasn’t even carrying a full course load. Whenever I expressed reservations about the workload and falling behind in classes, she would come with the convenient exciting news that we had received another payment and cut me a check. This was usually enough to appease me. By the time that summer rolled around and I had graduated, Greta had reached 750k followers and I was, so tired. I felt like a shell of myself and desperately in need of a break. I had gotten a coveted internship at a magazine for the summer and I was thankful for the opportunity to not have to live in Greta’s shadow, taking her pictures and bolstering her fame. She was not too pleased with my decision and it led to a dramatic and emotional confrontation at my apartment after my graduation. “I can’t believe you’re gonna be gone all summer. Leaving me high and dry right when we’re about to break a million, ” she said as she sipped her wine. “Greta, ” I said in a pleading tone. “This internship really means a lot to me. This is big time. It can really open a lot of doors. ” “Fine, fine, ” she said as she procured a joint that we proceeded to smoke. We zoned out to TV and soon I noticed that the bottle of wine was empty and could hear her banging around in the kitchen. She returned to the couch with a glass of bourbon. “You know what, fuck your magazine and your internship. How much are they paying you anyways? ” “It’s not about the money. ” “Well what is it about? You getting tired of me? That’s how it always ends. I thought you were different. ” I could see tears at the corners of her eyes. “Greta. ” “No, it’s fine. I just thought we were in this together. I totally understand. ” Her voice began to break. “I’m just so, so tired of the fast p
This poem helped me through a tough time, love this so much ??. White people dancing I can't breathe ahaha. The Roads Not Taken Watch stream. Amazing. Very epic.

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