Meet the man voted “Mr. May” down here in The Near-Sighted Monkey Lounge…
Richard Phillips Feynman was an American physicist known for the path integral formulation of quantum mechanics, the theory of quantum electrodynamics and the physics of the super fluidity of super cooled liquid helium, as well as work in particle physics (he proposed the Parton model). For his contributions to the development of quantum electrodynamics, Feynman was a joint recipient of the Nobel Prize in Physics in 1965, together with Julian Schwinger and Sin-Itiro Tomonaga. Feynman developed a widely used pictorial representation scheme for the mathematical expressions governing the behavior of subatomic particles, which later became known as Feynman diagrams
If imitation is the sincerest form of flattery then suspension designer Dave Weagle has a number of admirers, some of whom he’s been locked in costly legal battles with. Weagle freely admits that he didn’t know what he was getting into when he started developing his now famed dw-link system - he just wanted to build a better mountain bike.
BikeRadar caught up with Weagle at the recent launch of the Salsa Cycles Spearfish and Horsethief, both of which now feature his Split Pivot suspension design. We picked his brain about his recent legal battles with Trek and Giant, how he works with companies to integrate his suspension systems into their bikes, and what motivates him to keep developing new designs.
There are a number of similar and sometimes conflicting suspension designs on the market. Are there a finite number of ways to make mountain bike suspension work?
There are a lot of ways to make suspension work in general, but there aren’t a lot of ways to make it work within the structure of a bicycle. It’s difficult when you have a person involved and you have to fit that person to the machine - it makes things tricky.
The litigation side is brutal. It’s probably the worst thing I’ve ever gone through in my life. I hate everything about patents. I hate the patent system, but I can’t change it. I have to work within it. It gets insanely convoluted when you get into the litigation process.
As a small company it’s incredibly difficult to enforce patents. In this business, if I want to continue to have a business I have to do something, I have to protect something. I only protect my most worthwhile ideas; even then it’s extremely costly and time consuming.
Weagle's Split Pivot and Trek's ABP systems both use concentric rear axle pivots
There are many dual-link bikes out there from a number of companies. In your opinion, how many do you feel are skirting or infringing upon what you’ve done?
I think that’s a good way to put it. I think there are a lot of them that are ‘skirting’ what I’ve done, or trying to make a ‘me too’ bike.
It’s funny, when you start looking at some of them, some of those dual-link bikes are closer in terms of function to Split Pivot than a dw-link bike. The axle path curvature really doesn’t change all that much throughout the stroke of the travel. For a dw-link bike, a millimeter or two is worlds of difference in terms of performance.
The dw-link and Giant Maestro systems are functionally very similar
Here’s another battle of sorts - Split Pivot versus dw-link. Is one better than the other? Do they have different strengths and weaknesses?
They’re both incredibly capable systems. Every bike is a compromise. In the bicycle industry I think people think ‘compromise’ is a dirty word. Some companies might be like, “We have no compromises.” That’s bullshit - suspension is all about compromise. Geometry, fit and feel are all about compromise. If you can’t admit that then you have no idea what you’re doing, because that’s the reality.
I look at each bike on its own merits. We design for feel. I sit down with the companies and discuss feel. For example, an Ibis Ripley; the desired feel is probably closer to the 80mm Salsa Spearfish than it is to the 120mm Salsa Horsethief. I really try to boil it down to the desired trail feel.
How do you start working with a company to integrate one of your suspension systems into their bike line? What’s the development process like?
We start off riding their existing product - product they are comfortable with or product they are interested in - and talk about how it rides. We develop a language of feel and break it down to different parts of the travel, different situations. Sometimes it’s not even real words. Sometimes it’s like, ‘Clack, clack, clack!’ As a rider, you kind of know what that means.
When comparing dw-link bikes from different brands, it seems as though they have different feels from one brand to another.
Each company has its own vision for what the bikes should be. It’s the combination of everything: pivot placement, dampers, etc. It comes down to how we want a bike to attack corners, how we want it to handle square-edge bumps. Do we want it to be firmer or more plush?
Do you spend a lot of time working with specific athletes to refine your designs?
On request I do. When you have a guy like Stevie Smith (who is at the top of the sport) I do because I want them to succeed. If I can help Steve pull a tenth of a second off of his run, that’s awesome. It’s actually easier than designing a trail bike for a wide range of riders. I know how he rides. I can run data on the bike and I can build the bike to suit.
If you were designing a bike for yourself what sort of feel would you prioritize?
I think it’s a lot of the things I’ve prioritized in dw-link and Split Pivot designs. For me, I definitely look for cornering support. I definitely want the bike to be efficient out of the saddle.
I want geometry to be lower, slacker, longer. I grew up riding motocross and I love downhill bikes - that’s the side of the sport that I cut my teeth on. I ride my cross-country bikes like I ride my downhill bikes. For me, I’m just trying to have fun out there and get a little rowdy on the trail.
Weagle's designs seek to balance the attributes that make riding most enjoyable
You have three suspension designs on the market: dw-link, Split Pivot and Delta. Why develop competing suspension setups?
Because I can. It’s my passion. You can’t ask a painter to stop painting. I think there’s still a lot of real estate out there. I have other designs I’ve developed and haven’t brought to market.
It seems as though your designs have led to a sea change in how companies approach suspension design. They’ve certainly introduced the phrase “anti squat” into the parlance of mountain bikers.
I think that, over the past five years, there’s been a mass realization that the kinematics of suspension are a really efficient way to extract performance from a bicycle.
We went through the whole platform damper phase and that’s kind of fading out. Some companies are still doing it, but most are realizing that the best way to do this is to use the kinematics of the bike and let the damper do its job separately.
It’s asinine to me that you would choose to use a bunch of low-speed compression to slow the suspension down when you’re accelerating, because then you are drastically over-damped when you’re coasting. It’s a terrible compromise.
One of your constraints is that you’re working within the confines of existing damper technology. If you were to create a new shock from the ground up to work with your suspension designs, what would it look like? How would it be different?
I would simplify it significantly. We don’t need all those bells and whistles.
Is there a project you’ve worked on that you’re most proud of?
The Orion project. It’s a motorcycle project I’ve been working on. I actually developed a prototype, but I didn’t finish building it because I spent all my money on stupid litigation. But now I’m working with a specific company on it.
Can you say which motorcycle company you’re partnered with?
No, but it’s pretty awesome.
What do you want your lasting impact on the sport of mountain biking to be?
I hope I’ve helped people to enjoy the trail more. Everyone can benefit from more traction. Everyone can benefit from more confidence and not having to mess around with more levers. I hope some of the things that I’ve done have helped to push the industry in a direction that’s more positive.
A return guest speaker tonight down here in The Near-Sighted Monkey Lounge. We buy him as many juice boxes as he wants. We just want to keep listening.
It all came together perfectly.
BLM increased the flow in the Gunnison Gorge to simulate a spring runoff.
Kurt was wrapping up his big tour in Durango.
Mike dropped me an email. Packraft the Gunni Gorge, tomorrow?
I dropped Kurt a text – want to float the Gunni Gorge tomorrow? He was somewhere up on Indian Trail ridge when I sent that. “Sure” was his reply.
I missed out last time, with a bum knee preventing me from doing the hike down to the river. Not this time. I had seen photos and video from Mike that made the Gunnison Gorge an absolute must-do. I didn’t ask any questions, just knew I was in for whatever it entailed.
I had vaguely recalled talk of a couple mile hike down. Enough that I couldn’t fathom it a few weeks ago. But I figured I could fumble my way through it this time.
As we entered Black Canyon National Park Mike began describing the day, eventually admitting we weren’t doing the easy approach — that this hike down was the crux of the day. He described how he and Doom had first done it with snow, and that Doom had said it was the sketchiest “climbing” he had done all year. Hiking poles were recommended, as well as grabbing onto any and all vegetation possible.
There’s a bit of trail, then it’s just a route down a gully, heading straight down to the river, losing several thousand feet. It’s pretty amazing this kind of travel is sanctioned in a National Park. Even more amazing that these routes down to the river exist, and don’t get cliffed out.
I made a strategy error. I favored my bad knee all the way down. Why? Because it still hurt. I couldn’t support myself with just it. So my good leg did all the work. And work it was — and sweating we were, all from a downhill hike. It was brilliant.
It was a relief to finally get near the river, and the cold water was calling me, ever so loudly.
Putting the pack in packrafts! This was the first time I’d used one to run a stretch of river otherwise completely inaccessible to other craft.
We aired up the boats and readied ourselves for some rapid fun. I fooled myself into believing that the hike down really was the crux. I knew it wasn’t, of course, but it was useful to believe that before we put in. That way the roar of the water below us didn’t redline my heartrate… yet.
We were off and scouting very quickly. Nothing too serious, but enough that lines needed to be examined. Especially for river newbs.
Mike showed us how it’s done, going first and making it look smooth enough that we were tempted to give it a run.
Only Kurt ran this one, and he ran it well. It was early enough in the day that Skippy and I decided to not risk a swim.
The twenty mile run had a very nice flow to it. Calm sections would only last a few minutes, leading to rapids that required attention, followed by a few more minutes of calm.
During the calm our heads would be spinning, trying to take in all we were experiencing in this deep and mysterious canyon. I think this is the aspect of running rivers I enjoy most — the unique perspective and means to see places otherwise impossible to access. Dodging boulders and getting adrenaline spikes is fun and all, but there are many ways to achieve that. There’s only one way to see the Black Canyon of the Gunnison.
Speaking of adrenaline: the last rapid, a class 4 (not that I understand what that actually means!). Kurt and I watched Mike and Skippy roll off the drop and pop up still afloat. I couldn’t see where Kurt was readying himself, since I had missed the first eddy for the scout. As I pushed off from the rocks, I saw Kurt in front of me. “I’ll follow him,” I thought, stalling a second, then going for it. There was a lot to negotiate, especially to hammer over to the far wall from my last ditch eddy. I dug in hard and made the turn, rounding a boulder just as I caught a glimpse of the drop. I looked at the pool below it, in the split second I had, and saw Kurt’s boat, upside down, but no Kurt. Not good. Better pay attention or you’re going to end up upside down in the water too, dummy! I paddled as actively as I could, came too close for comfort to the wall, then hit the drop at what Mike had described as the correct angle. Sure enough, the drop flipped me about 30 degrees, which had me going off it straight. Woo hoo!
As soon as I could focus on anything else, I saw Kurt’s boat again, and could see his head floating along side it. He swam off to an eddy and got himself back together, shivering the whole time.
Two rapids later, and twenty yards from the last flat water to the take out, I was dodging boulders and riding waves just as I had been doing all day. Then, before I realized what had happened, my brain realized, “Ummm, we’re upside down and underwater here!” “Not good.” “Issue new command!” Uhhh, kick and swim! I was very quickly out of the boat and next to it, head above water. I lost the paddle, and my dry bag. I swam to the side and stood up in an awkward spot, then realizing that I couldn’t really see anything. Uh oh, my contacts are gone. But, I was fine otherwise. Blinking around I thought they may have just rolled back on my eyes, and pushing them down I got some sight back. OK, no dry bag. Mike signaled to let my boat go — he’d catch it. I could then scramble backwards over some rocks to look for my paddle and dry bag. They were circulating in an eddy. Just as I thought my dry bag was going for a ride down the river it spun around and shot right back to me.
Adrenaline. Near life experience. It was pretty awesome.
As we floated the last miles, feet dangling over the edges of the rafts, Skippy summed up the day, “I like doing rescuing, not being the one rescued.” We owe both Mike and Skippy for their patience and the amazing opportunity. We wrapped up the day with a lot of driving and a divine DQ blizzard, just as the video promised.
I summed up the aftermath of the day – “I’m not sure what’s going to be sore tomorrow, but I think it may be more a question of what’s *not* sore.”
Sure enough, I was pretty worked over, especially my good leg, which grew to be as sore as I have ever experienced. I made the call to skip the Durango Dirty Century after a painful and sloppy rim trail ride. Kurt went on to scorch the DDC for 3rd place, tour legs, Gunni Hike and all.
Eszter and I went to go explore Engineer Mountain instead.
More accurately, I climbed a while with her, then turned off to do a shorter ride. Pedaling was weak, and downhill very difficult. My leg was destroyed.
Leg destroyed, trail divine.
I kept expecting the singletrack to get steep, choppy, brake bumped, rutted, or something, but it was nothing but a pleasure cruise all the way down.
When Eszter came down from the same trail, she was bubbling and asking me what front tire I had. “Do you still have a Rampage? A Rampage?! I really hope you got to ride that trail, that was the best!” New favorite trail in Colorado.
So good, we went back the next day to climb it. It’s pretty dang climbable, but still steep enough to cause suffering for those of us in less than showroom condition.
Small price to pay for where it takes you.
Land of rainbows and unicorns.
And acrobatic caterpillars, spinning themselves a cocoon. This guy was hanging right in the Engine Creek trail, where we watched him do his dance, slowly growing his ball of fuzz as he went.
We’ll definitely be back to Engineer, hopefully many times over the rest of the summer. Luckily an extremely sore leg heals much faster than a bashed knee. A small price to pay for a memorable day in the Gunnison Gorge.
THIS IS THE BEST THING YOU WILL SEE TODAY.
Ibis Cycles resident Artist Chris McNally doing his thing.
|hickory stick about to get the desert beatdown|
Matthew Barr of Snap Interactive gave a great talk at Puppet Camp New York about bringing continuous integration (CI) tools and practices to Puppet code. It’s a good introduction to the ways you can manage the automation of your infrastructure in a safe, reliable manner.
Matthew started his talk with a reference to our own Adrien Thebo’s blog post about using Git with Puppet environments. Environments provide a way to break up your Puppet installation into multiple configurations. With Puppet environments, it’s easier to create development, testing and production configurations, or isolate configurations by roles, such as database servers or web servers.
Since Git branches are cheap, Matthew noted, they’re a natural way to store Puppet environments in a CI environment: One branch per development stage.
Alongside Git in the core toolchain Matthew discussed is Jenkins, an open source CI server that makes it easy to apply automated tests to a codebase.
Getting Jenkins set up is made easier with R. Tyler Croy’s Jenkins Puppet Module, which automates Jenkins’ installation and configuration. You can also use the module to install Jenkins plugins, including a Jenkins plugin that builds pull requests in Github and reports the results.
The first stage of Matthew’s Puppet/CI workflow involves performing static analysis against incoming Git commits. The tools he mentioned include:
The static analysis tools validate the basic syntax of your Puppet manifests and erb templates, then make sure they’re in line with recommended style by catching whitespace errors and other issues that might not cause Puppet code to fail, but could make it harder to maintain.
The next stage in Matthew’s workflow involves module testing. With rspec-puppet tool, Puppet code can be tested in greater depth: Issues with more complex logic or Hiera data sources are surfaced during this stage.
Once the Puppet code is validated and tested, it moves on to catalog testing. At this stage, Jenkins jobs are running shell scripts that update the repository under test from Github, then attempt to compile a Puppet catalog against a set of Facter facts.
Where previous stages in the CI process can catch more formal issues with logic or style, catalog testing can catch dependency loops or missing modules, variables or facts.
Having moved through a number of Jenkins jobs that test your Puppet code in isolation, Matthew’s workflow moves on to dynamic analysis. This is a stage where virtualization helps, because the Puppet code must be deployed to running systems.
During dynamic analysis, testing is centered around making sure the target systems themselves will work with your Puppet code: Missing packages, or problematic configuration files that might break a service in production are caught at this stage.
Once your Puppet code has been validated in isolation and in virtual environments that match what your code would encounter in product, the next step in the workflow involves integration testing.
Matthew said he uses integration testing to check critical functionality on each system to make sure necessary services are running, applications are responding as expected, and that key resources such as databases are present on the system.
He said tests don’t have to be complex. Jenkins can work with anything that can return a “0″ for success or a non-zero value for failure. A simple script that uses curl to pull down a web page, for instance, can serve as a Jenkins integration test.
Once everything makes its way through testing, Matthew said it’s important to perform nightly rebuilds in order to have confidence that you can redeploy your Puppet-managed infrastructure in an emergency.
Nightly rebuilds check for dynamic factors outside your Puppet code: Updated package repositories, changed or updated packages, altered kickstart files, or other elements Puppet isn’t directly controlling.
And there’s the purpose of the whole workflow, which is deployment to production. Matt’s talk covered the use of canary servers doing “noop” and live puppet runs before merging the Puppet code and doing a full deployment.
If you’d like a look at some tooling Matthew himself has produced, he’s published his puppet-ci module on the Puppet Forge.
I can’t give dude anything but respect for this. He’s all class. You want to endear yourself to the cycling public? Act like Mother Fucking Jens Voigt.
“The Bike Maker” is a short documentary about Ezra Caldwell, a bicycle builder who runs a one-man bike fabrication shop in Harlem, Fast Boy Cycles. Caldwell left a career as a dance teacher to pursue bike building in 2007. One year later he was diagnosed with cancer. Since being diagnosed he has been struggling with the disease, and building bikes during periods of remission. About six months ago he was told he has six to eight months to live. He is chronicling his experiences on his blog. Caldwell is no longer building bikes.
submitted via Laughing Squid Tips
From the wind tunnels the made commercial aviation possible to the analog machines that preceded the computer, a visual history of the spirit of innovation presently unworthy of the government’s dollar.
Among the great joys of spending countless hours rummaging through archives is the occasional serendipitous discovery of something absolutely wonderful: Case in point, these gorgeous black-and-white photographs of vintage NASA (and NASA predecessor NACA) facilities, which I found semi-accidentally in NASA’s public domain image archive. Taken between the 1920s and 1950s, when the golden age of space travel was still a beautiful dream, decades before the peak of the Space Race, and more than half a century before the future of space exploration had sunk to the bottom of the governmental priorities barrel, these images exude the stark poeticism of Berenice Abbott’s science photographs and remind us, as Isaac Asimov did, of NASA’s enormous value right here on Earth.
NACA's first wind tunnel, located at Langley Field in Hampton, VA, was an open-circuit wind tunnel completed in 1920. Essentially a replica of the ten-year-old tunnel at the British National Physical Laboratory, it was a low-speed facility which involved the one-twentieth-scale models. Because tests showed that the models compared poorly with the actual aircraft by a factor of 20, a suggestion was made to construct a sealed airtight chamber in which air could be compressed to the same extent as the model being tested. The new tunnel, the Variable Density Tunnel was the first of its kind and has become a National Historic Landmark. (April 1, 1921)
Pressure tank of the Variable Density Tunnel at the Newport News Shipbuilding and Dry Dock Company, Hampton, VA. Photograph courtesy Northrop-Grumman Shipbuilding-Newport News (February 3, 1922). The tank was shipped by barge to NACA, now NASA Langley Research Center, in June 1922.
Workmen in the patternmakers' shop manufacture a wing skeleton for a Thomas-Morse MB-3 airplane for pressure distribution studies in flight. (June 1, 1922)
A Langley researcher ponders the future, in mid-1927, of the Sperry M-1 Messenger, the first full-scale airplane tested in the Propeller Research Tunnel. Standing in the exit cone is Elton W. Miller, Max M. Munk's successor as chief of aerodynamics. (1927)
16-foot-high speed wind tunnel downstream view through cooling tower section. (February 8, 1942)
Free-flight investigation of 1/4-scale dynamic model of XFV-1 in NACA Ames 40x80ft wind tunnel. (August 18, 1942)
Engine on Torque Stand at the Aircraft Engine Research Laboratory in Cleveland, Ohio, now known as the John H. Glenn Research Center at Lewis Field. Torque is the twisting motion produced by a spinning object. (April 15, 1944)
Detail view of Schlieren setup in the 1 x 3 Foot Supersonic Wind Tunnel. (October 26, 1945)
Boeing B-29 long range bomber model was tested for ditching characteristics in the Langley Tank No. 2 (Early 1946)
Looking down the throat of the world's largest tunnel, 40 by 80 feet, located at Ames Aeronautical Laboratory, Moffett Field, California. The camera is stationed in the tunnel's largest section, 173 feet wide by 132 feet high. Here at top speed the air, driven by six 40-foot fans, is moving about 35 to 40 miles per hour. The rapid contraction of the throat (or nozzle) speeds up this air flow to more than 250 miles per hour in the oval test section, which is 80 feet wide and 40 feet high. The tunnel encloses 900 tons of air, 40 tons of which rush through the throat per second at maximum speed. (1947)
Analog Computing Machine in the Fuel Systems Building. This is an early version of the modern computer. The device is located in the Engine Research Building at the Lewis Flight Propulsion Laboratory, now John H. Glenn Research Center, Cleveland Ohio. (September 28, 1949)
Guide vanes in the 19-foot Pressure Wind Tunnel at Langley Aeronautical Laboratory, National Advisory Committee for Aeronautics, form an ellipse 33 feet high and 47 feet wide. The 23 vanes force the air to turn corners smoothly as it rushes through the giant passages. If vanes were omitted, the air would pile up in dense masses along the outside curves, like water rounding a bend in a fast brook. Turbulent eddies would interfere with the wind tunnel tests, which require a steady flow of fast, smooth air. (March 15, 1950
24-foot-diameter swinging valve at various stages of opening and closing in the 10ft x 10ft Supersonic Wind Tunnel. (May 17, 1956)
A television camera is focused by NACA technician on a ramjet engine model through the schlieren optical windows of the 10 x 10 Foot Supersonic Wind Tunnel's test section. Closed-circuit television enables aeronautical research scientists to view the ramjet, used for propelling missiles, while the wind tunnel is operating at speeds from 1500 to 2500 mph. (8.570) The tests were performed at the Lewis Flight Propulsion Laboratory, now John H. Glenn Research Center. (April 21, 1957)
8ft x 6ft Supersonic Wind Tunnel Test-Section showing changes made in Stainless Steel walls with 17 inch inlet model installation. The model is the ACN Nozzle model used for aircraft engines. The Supersonic Wind Tunnel is located in the Lewis Flight Propulsion Laboratory, now John H. Glenn Research Center. (August 31, 1957)
The Gimbal Rig, formally known as the MASTIF of Multiple Axis Space Test Inertia Facility, was engineered to simulate the tumbling and rolling motions of a space capsule and train the Mercury astronauts to control roll, pitch and yaw by activating nitrogen jets, used as brakes and bring the vehicle back into control. This facility was built at the Lewis Research Center, now John H. Glenn Research Center at Lewis Field. (October 29, 1957)
Lockheed C-141 model in the Transonic Dynamics Tunnel (TDT). By the late 1940s, with the advent of relatively thin, flexible aircraft wings, the need was recognized for testing dynamically and elastically scaled models of aircraft. In 1954, NASA's predecessor agency, the National Advisory Committee on Aeronautics (NACA), began converting the Langley 19-foot Pressure Tunnel for dynamic testing of aircraft structures. The old circular test section was reduced to 16 x 16 feet, and slotted walls were added for transonic operation. The TDT was provided with special oscillator vanes upstream of the test section to create controlled gusty air to simulate aircraft response to gusts. A model support system was devised that freed the model to pitch and plunge as the wings started oscillating in response to the fluctuating airstream. The TDT was completed in 1959. It was the world's first aeroelastic testing tunnel. (November 16, 1962)
Alas, the names of the photographers — as is often the case with creators working on the government dollar — were not preserved. If you recognize any, get in touch and help credit them.
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Canadian astronaut Chris Hadfield has charmed us from the International Space Station with music before. But his latest (and last) song from the ISS is a rousing cover of David Bowie’s classic “Space Oddity,” and the visuals alongside it match the tune perfectly.
Hadfield has been commanding the ISS during the past five months, and he’s taken some stunning photos, participated in fun science experiments, and shown how you sleep in space. Sadly, he handed over control of the ISS to Russian cosmonaut Pavel Vinogradov on Sunday eventing and will be returning to Earth shortly.
On top of the music video, Hadfield also recorded some final thoughts before he departs the station.
The ability to realize that there is more happening in a song than what we realize upon first listen, makes songs that much more beautiful. I find that this is always the case with the music that CocoRosie produces, because there are so many elements to their music that one might not realize immediately. The first sounds that enter the ears are beats, but if you listen closer, you’ll notice that they are produced by a mouth. This is something that sets them apart, making their live performances that much more special. Their new album, Tales of A Grass Widow, is set to launch at the end of May, but I’ve already listened to the album in its entirety and I’m not surprised that the work is beautiful. They successfully manage to keep every track diverse, while still threading the whole work together in a solid continuation of sound. It’s a listening journey and definitely one best enjoyed in one sitting.
This song stopped me in my tracks upon first listen, much like everything else that’s happened in my life as of late. I haven’t been able to write for EMPT for the past week due to a broken limb, and while I was sad that I could not serve up quality music for your days, I allowed myself the time to re-evaluate some parts of my life. Approaching my final week of undergrad leaves me feeling ambivalent but mostly thankful — I can safely say that this is one of the things I’ve worked hardest for so far in my life, and my broken collarbone only enhanced my desire to push through and succeed in graduating from this one part of my life. I’m excited and scared but mostly just thankful that it’s all happening right now.
Bad things do happen for a reason, and I think this eerily beautiful track embodies the exact sentiment that I’ve experienced for this past week. Plus, it’s got a hell of a beat.
File this one under “holy fuck”
Bear Vs. Monkey Bicycle Race Ends With Bear Eating Monkey
Just stumbled upon this on the backpackinglight forums. Pure gold.
I was stoked to meet INSA in Melbourne not too long ago. Really loving all the animated pieces he’s been doing lately. When these images pop up on Tumblr I’m sure there’s a bunch of people who don’t realise he’s actually re-painting the walls several times to achieve these effects.
Incredible stuff. More below!
Photographer Sean R. Heavey captured this photo of a supercell thunderstorm at sunset in Montana in July 2010. The panorama, titled “The Mothership,” was created by stitching four photos together. A larger version of the image can be viewed at Astronomy Picture of the Day.
lemond at the 85 giro