Boom, Bust and The Seven Cows

Various friends have written to me regarding the recent financial turbulence and have asked me for my view on what I think will happen. Well, sorry guys, I’m no prophet. No-one can see the future.

Right?

Then Pharaoh said to Joseph, "In my dream I was standing on the bank of the Nile, when out of the river there came up seven cows, fat and sleek, and they grazed among the reeds. After them, seven other cows came up—scrawny and very ugly and lean. I had never seen such ugly cows in all the land of Egypt. The lean, ugly cows ate up the seven fat cows that came up first. But even after they ate them, no one could tell that they had done so; they looked just as ugly as before. Then I woke up."

Then Joseph said to Pharaoh, "The dreams of Pharaoh are one and the same. God has revealed to Pharaoh what he is about to do. The seven good cows are seven years, and the seven good heads of grain are seven years; it is one and the same dream. The seven lean, ugly cows that came up afterward are seven years, and so are the seven worthless heads of grain scorched by the east wind: They are seven years of famine."

Genesis 41 - Pharaoh's Dreams

Previous empirical analyses of U.S. stock index prices show overwhelming evidence of a seven-year wave in the stock market that is part of the overall economic cycle. This cycle is synchronized with the widely known Kondratiev wave that is thought to be fifty to sixty years in duration. The economic cycle runs through four main stages on about a seven year cycle. It goes boom, bust, stagnant, recovery and then repeats ad infinitum.

The economy last hit rock bottom in November 2001. Despite the amazing global economic expansion since then, seven years later (give or take a month or so) here we are again.

According to the economic theorists, this would now put the recovery at around 2015, which by sheer coincidence (?) is what Suze Orman (whom Stephen called the “seer of seers”) predicted in an unguarded moment.

Seven good cows, seven bad.

Who says the Bible can’t predict the future, eh?

amy 735

Amy

And that’s the last I’m saying about money matters for a while. Many of you will no doubt be relieved to hear it.

(BTW, in case anyone is wondering, no I'm not religious.)

The Search For The God Particle

Disclaimer: I know nothing about physics, other than it really turns me on. Handy then, that Rich has a degree in it. Getting him to write about it is a somewhat harder task however, so you‘re gonna have to out up with my feeble stab at it instead. Incidentally this has nothing whatsoever to do with photography. But it does make me horny.

People of the cloth will always tell you that mankind will never be able to prove that God exists, or how the universe was created. You have to take it on faith. That doesn’t stop scientists trying, however, and they are about to come mighty close to proving the existence, not of God Himself, but of His particles. The intention is to answer the unanswerable question: how does matter have mass, and thus exist in a form that results in the creation of the universe and all that comprises it?

This is no less than the quest to prove how the world was created, and has been the Holy Grail of physics for over 40 years, ever since Peter Higgs proposed in 1964 that the universe is pervaded by an invisible field of tiny things called bosons which consist of mass but not much else. As particles move through this field, the bosons stick to them, thus increasing their mass whilst leaving others, such as photons (light particles which have no mass), unaffected.

This mysterious boson has become so fundamental to physics that it is known as The God Particle. But no-one has been able to prove it is real. Until now. Later this year, a mysterious device in Cern, Geneva called an atom-smasher (or Large Hadron Collider or LHC to give it its proper name) is apparently virtually guaranteed to find these bosons. Scientists have glimpsed them from experiments using smaller particle accelerators, but they’ve never been able to categorically prove their existence.

Bosons are elusive little buggers by all accounts. They are supposed to exist only at very high energies, which last existed in the moments after the Big Bang, and thus the only way of finding them is using the homogenously large atom-smasher. And big it certainly is. It will fire beams of protons around seventeen miles of underground tunnels before they eventually reach the speed of light and collide, thus releasing vast bursts of energy. The boson particles will then be found by specially developed detectors which are situated in cathedral-sized caverns under the ground. Then of course begins the mammoth task of sifting through and analysing the vast amounts of data before scientists can categorically prove that the God Particle exists. The final results should be ready some time in 2009.

So this is the story so far. If they scientists pull this off, one of the most fundamental questions of physics will be answered, namely why matter has mass. Make no mistake people, this is BIG. Does the God Particle exist, or is it just a figment of imagination? Can we finally find a small piece of the most important puzzle in the history of the universe: the mystery of how our world was created?

Are you getting excited yet? Because I certainly am.



Amy, searching for her own bosons.

Damn lies and statistics

For someone who is an accountant by trade, I’m completely hopeless at keeping an eye on our Fluffytek statistics. So it’s been about four or five months or so since we actually bothered to look at the bloggie stats, number of hits, regular readers and so forth. But I was feeling blue and at a bit of a loose end today, and I finally decided to crunch the numbers.

Holy crap! Where did all the people come from?! No I don’t believe in quoting figures, but wowee, do we love our lurkers or what?! Thank you little lurkers, from the heart of our bottoms. You certainly know how to cheer up a dodgy ol’ model. What I found particularly funny was the obvious huge spike in viewing figures after the day I posted my dodgy porn shots (sorry, I mean “tasteful art.” Of course it was. Whatever else could it be?) So, fellow nude bloggers, if you really want to boost those flagging viewing figures, nothing gives your blog that added "zing" quite like an extreme-close-up graphic shot of an old model’s nether regions.

I’ve also been collecting personal opinions from other female readers with whom I chat. Kind of a survey about what readers like and dislike about the blog. Now please note that the survey is not of experienced professional models, I’ve instead been talking to average everyday ladies (some of whom are friends of mine), who just read and look at the piccies for fun, usually with their hubbies, and then want to try out the same sort of experimental photography at home.

It seems that my frequent apologies for our slightly more edgy pictures have also been unnecessary. Not only do women have a much wider comfort zone for erotic art (which is obviously NOT porn because it’s b+w, of course) than you would ever have believed possible, but it appears many of our female readers look at this blog just before they toddle off to bed with their beloved one. i.e. this highly tasteful art nude blog is actually contributing to people’s nightly steamy sessions in the boudoir. Now this might be obvious to many of you, but it’s news to us I’m afraid. Of course we naturally assumed that men read the blog for the big boobies, but it seems the ladies read it for the (rather infrequent) steamy bits. In actual fact, several confessed to really loving the images of some of the more adventurous models (not of me, thank goodness!) posing in a more…erm…seductive manner, so to speak.

Now you’ll appreciate that Rich is in seventh heaven about this. He loves women, pretty much all of them if we’re being completely honest. His greatest pleasure is making women happy. So the idea of there being a high female bloggie demand for tasteful-yet-slightly-raunchier pictures of women groping themselves, has really made our Mr Fluffy’s day.

He wants you all to know that he’ll do his utmost to…er…spice up your love-lives by dedicating himself 100 percent to shooting steamier pictures this year…He says that “tasteful erotic” must be his new calling. “Gotta keep the readers happy!” he says.

Thanks for that folks. I mean…thank you SO MUCH for giving my husband the perfect excuse to shoot dodgy porn in the name of art.

And that’s the last time I ever do a bloggie survey.

"Statistics can be used as a drunken man uses lampposts - for support rather than for illumination."
Andrew Lang



The delightful Amy, our first "higher" model. Apparently not our last.

Amoebas and Elephants

Contrary to popular belief, having a brain tumour doesn't usually make you feel poorly. I always get immensely irritated when people treat me as if I'm ill, or diseased. I feel perfectly O.K., and I lead a completely normal life thank-you-very-much. On the whole, I feel absolutely fine. Healthier than you do probably. If my tumour is happy, then I'm happy.

And yet...sometimes I do become aware that I'm not invincible, that something is definitely not quite right. I feel...odd. No other way to describe it. Not quite here. Other-worldy. In particular, I lose blocks of time. Whole periods of my memory have been erased. The early years of my marriage, for example, are all gone. This might be a good thing actually – the first few years of our marriage were apparently very stormy. And my medium and short term memory are also pretty ghastly. Rich has to constantly remind me of stuff that happened yesterday. I'm like the fish with a three second memory.

When I was growing up I used to be incredibly scared of losing my memory. It was a phobia of my youth. I used to think I would rather go blind than lose my past. Our memories are the essence of who we are...if you forget your experiences, then it makes you a lesser person. You're just a blank slate. You forget how you came to be the person you are.

The good news is that memory loss is actually completely painless, emotionally speaking. Because you can't remember past events, you're not upset about not remembering, because you simply can't recall what you should be upset about in the first place.

Another advantage is that whole periods of my sordid past have been completely erased. Also a good thing. And memory loss comes in very handy for inter-marital arguments too. If I get angry with Rich then I don't stay angry for long, because I never remember what we argued about originally. So having an addled and malfunctioning brain is exceptionally good for family harmony. Plus there's the added sexual bonus too. Every time is always the first time for me 'n' the studly Mr Fluffy. I literally never remember it being this good, so I am constantly surprised and blown away by his sexual prowess.

Alas, this memory loss issue will remain with me for the rest of my life. My doctors tell me it will probably get worse too. I'm not especially bothered by this, largely because I know I'm not going to remember being upset about it. It's not going to affect my intelligence or my identity. It's just inconvenient, that's all. And of course, as with most disabilities, you do learn to work around the problem.

Organisation is the key to leading a normal life. I have learned to write things down. Blogs are excellent recorders of stories (part of the reason I started one in the first place.) And I live by lists. I write lists for everything, and stick post-it notes all over the house. Rich designed his day-job software to have sophisticated calendaring and reminder services, so I get emailed every day about specific things that I need to do. For example, tomorrow's messages read: Monday- give cat anti-fur-ball gel, shave pussy, evening shoot. So if I end up with a completely bald and shitty cat on Tuesday, blame Rich's software not me. I just do what the emails tell me to.

If you have severe memory problems, then the only long term memories you will have are the stories told by your loved ones. Rich has to tell me the same stories over and over again. He knows I won't recall it next week, but I swear he never ever complains about being a regurgitating tape recorder. He's a fabulous chap, you know. Who else could possibly be so endlessly patient with me? (Of course, I don't actually remember his faults, if indeed he has any, which I'm sure he doesn't.)

I would also like to submit that photography is of critical importance to brain tumour patients. It is essential to take as many photos as you can, all of the time. I have issued the kids with cheap digital cameras, and they snap anything and everything. They are my memory storage devices. I will be able to remember them growing up through the eyes of the camera. My life's stories are stored on computer. My memories are in digital. If memories are who you are as a person, then my psyche is on my hard disk drive, laid bare for all the world's hackers to see.

Incidentally my appalling memory makes me an excellent agony aunt and confession storage repository. Please do feel free to tell me all your sordid, deep, dark secrets. I can guarantee I won't remember them in two days time. On the other hand, if I seem vague or repetitive in email conversations with you, this isn't because I'm stupid, it's simply because I am a fish.

Now I'm sure some of you are feeling sorry for me by now. This is a mistake, caused by your own inbuilt fear of losing your identity. Truly, you should never feel sorry for people with memory loss. Chances are they are happier than you are.

Thanks to my tumour, I'm in a constant state of contentment.
Amoebas are happier than elephants, let me tell you that.

The advantage of a bad memory is that one enjoys several times the same good things for the first time.
Nietzche



Amy, in high key.

The Worm Turns

I appear to have been going through a mini-metamorphosis this week, particularly with regard to my writing. This could be to do with my impending radiation, but I suspect it’s more to do with photographic happenings around me. There has been an explosion of plagiarism (both photographic and written) in the last few months or so. Plus a rise in bitchiness, back-biting, censorship, and general under-hand tactics. In other words, typical politics in the photographic world.

IMHO, this greatly detracts from the ability to create. In theory, artists and writers should be able to shut out the world, ignore other folks being conniving and mean, and continue blissfully creating their own art to their heart’s content. But in practice, even the most thick-skinned artist or writer will be affected negatively by politics. Other people’s shit gets to you after a while, no matter how much you try to ignore it.

So I have spent an entire week thinking. Really THINKING about the photographic world, both literary and image-wise. I have been taking a step back, analysing the situation, looking at others’ behaviour on the forums and in the modelling world in general. What I have found is not good. Other than the friends I know and trust (which I am happy to say are quite a few), many people in this photographic world are nasty, manipulative, selfish. Worse, they are unprofessional. In the art business, and in the photographic art world in particular, I always believed in the higher ideals of professional courtesy.

As a qualified lawyer and an accountant, I have been a professional for over twenty years. I have become used to people sticking to standards of behaviour, both high ethical standards, and courtesy to others at all times. I expected the same from the photographic art world. From what I have seen recently, I can only conclude I was hopelessly naïve.

In the end it comes down to one simple question:

How do I develop a thicker hide?

(Apologies for the negativity folks. Clearly I need a vacation.)



This is Amy from last week's shoot. She really doesn't realise just how pretty she is, which makes her all the more charming of course.