Do you want to make money with adsense? Well, first of all you’ll need to sign up as a publisher so Google can send you your earnings every month. Once you are approved as a publisher you will be able to monetize your sites with adsense providing they comply with Google’s terms of service.

Here are 5 steps you can follow to make money with adsense:

1) Choose A High Paying Niche – What I recommend you do here is choose a niche that has an upper range above a dollar and a lower range no lower than 50 cents. This is the amount the advertisers pay and you will be receiving a percentage of the revenue that Google charges.

2) Do Keyword Research – You will then need to do keyword research and pick out a number of keywords to build pages around for this site. You want your site pages to be well themed, so take care to choose keywords that are both relevant and don’t have so much competition that you have no chance of ranking for them in the search engines.

3) Build Your Site – You can either choose a site building tool or use a html editor to do this. You will also need a template so you can populate the site with content and include menu navigation on a side panel.

4) Promote Your Site – I recommend you use a mixture of directory submissions, article marketing, bookmarking and getting links from sites in your niche. At this stage don’t monetize your site with Adsense. Hold off until the site is indexed and getting traffic from the search engines and your other promotion efforts.

5) Optionally Flip Your Site – This is where you can take things to the next level. Once your site is matured and steadily earning, consider selling your site and using that cash to fund making more sites. You will make more money from 5 sites than you will from one, so if cashflow is an issue consider this step to ramp up your earnings over the long term.

breath easy, the doctors are about to arrive.

so he was thirty-six minutes late tonight and he didn’t call till he was thirteen minutes late. and i was cold. and it was cold. and the building had locked up. and i went and sat on that wall that we sat on honey. where we ate ice creams. where we watched the sky as it was beautiful. where i felt happy with you. but i cried. and i couldn’t stop. and i still can’t stop and it’s been over an hour. i cried the whole car journey home. i cried when i came through the door. and when i told her nothing was wrong. and i went upstairs. and put this music on. and i want to hear the screams to make me feel better. connection. compassion. and she brought me tea. and that was unexpected. and my phone wouldn’t turn on so i threw it against the wall. and then i had toast. and now i’m crying still.

i feel so stupid. like everything i thought is untrue. and just so stupid. and i feel so stupid for being so upset. and this isn’t making sense and i’m repeating myself but it just won’t sink in. why am i not good enough? what do i do that just doesn’t compete? and i’m beating myself up and i can’t cope. this happens every time. and i can’t see it going right. i said it would work out in the end but it’s not really, is it? not for me. i really can’t cope. i feel so pathetic. i feel so wasted. like my time was wasted. the best of me for so long has been wasted. i feel so useless and all i want is to hurt.

the star was too close to the moon tonight. my socks have rubbed my legs and made a rash. and i planned your present. and i gave you your cake. and i only wore your ladybird. and i sat through russian with you while you coloured in. i put perfume on my lips by mistake and they burned. you caught marshmallows in your mouth. and i forgot for a while. and it was good.

you’re so fucking special, i wish i was special.

you don’t know how much you meant to me. and how much i’m hurt. and how worthless i feel, that you just drop speaking to me. that you just drop me.

i’m only there so that you’re not alone.

i sat up all night to try to stop you. i held you and talked everything through. how many people would do that for you? you know i actually care. and have since the beginning.

i can’t get over this feeling right now. complete loss. of no use. that i never seem to mean anything to people. that they give up after a few months. that i’m not good enough to carry on with. that i’m just thrown away. i’m just a stepping stone till something better comes along. that i’m not the finished product for anyone. i’ve never been good enough at home. i wasn’t good enough there. i’m not good enough here. i’m not the best for her. i’m not the best for them. i’m not the best for him.

my nose is still running but the crying has stopped. composed.

i just sent her an email saying i didn’t hate her but if she wants me to speak to her then she has to make the first step.

and i’m shaking from the cold but i feel like i’m burning up. i felt so hot today with you. like my face was on fire. i felt so embarrassed and upset. i went to art and told him i wasn’t going to work in poster paint. told him i want to continue in ink. he let me. asked if we were the grumpy table today. i told him it would be if he wanted it to be. and he left me alone for the rest of the lesson. she gave me her crisps and she let me use her phone. and i just threw ink on my page. i’m still drawing corn and it’s getting repetitive and boring now but i like doing it. i know i can do it. and people compliment it. and i don’t get many compliments these days. and i don’t want to try something new and fail. i feel like such a god damn failure.

you can still see my name under the white paint. i need to do something to that but i don’t know what.

it wont post my comment. and i’m getting frustrated. and i need to spend a little time with you this week just you and i, A. we’ll do that tomorrow morning while B goes to sort his house out.

you too L. i really want to see you on thursday. if you can and want to, please do. you make things a lot clearer for me. and i’m not sure that you either know to what extent that i really do care about you.

i’m fully composed now. my face tight from the tears.

cried all night till there was nothing more.

i need to fill a roll of film by the morning but i know i wont.

i’m shaking so violently in my legs and i can’t make it stop. i’ve had more fits than normal today. i can’t even keep control in myself. how fucking pathetic is that? what hope do i have in keeping my world still when i can’t keep my body from shaking.

my poison playlist is still playing.

make you believe in god. make you believe in ghosts. make you believe in me.

i’m giving up now. on you and on myself.

i kept your tie, i’d have gone wherever you wanted.

it’s been another hour. it’s on the back of my door.

Written by Gary Ewer, from “The Essential Secrets of Songwriting” website.
Follow Gary on Twitter for songwriting tips, news and more.

___________________

If you don’t know the music of Sia, you’re missing a real treat. Her music is a perfect example of how songwriters need only venture minimally outside the box to create fantastic music. “Soon We’ll Be Found” is a case in point. By using simple harmonic modulations and other formal elements, Sia demonstrates simple devices that other songwriters could and should be using.

The first formal element of interest is the use of the two-part verse, the first eight bars being in C minor, with the second eight bars brightening to the relative major:

Cm  Fm  G  Cm  Fm  G  Cm  Fm  G  Ab  Bb ||Eb

The Ab and Bb are pivot chords that exists in both keys of C minor and Eb major, providing a seamless way to modulate to the relative major key. The song then proceeds with the second part of the verse, now in major. So songwriters, if you’re writing a song in minor, and are tiring of the constant mood of that key, modulating to the relative major is easy to do with a flat-VII.

The next interesting harmonic device Sia uses is the so-called “modal mixture”, or borrowed chord. The second chord of this part of the verse is Abm, where one would normally use Ab. A borrowed chord is one which normally exists in the minor side of the key, but is “borrowed” to add an interesting harmonic flavour:

Eb  Abm  Eb  Abm  Eb  Abm  Bb  G

On we go to the chorus, and the chord progressions here pull the listener back and forth from the key of C minor to Eb major, and back again. You might think that the harmonic structure is more ambiguous in the chorus than it was in the verse, but what’s actually happening is that the chorus represents the melding of two different harmonic organizations we found in the verse. While part 1 of the verse emphasized minor, and part 2 accentuated major, we get both living in close proximity in the chorus. In that sense, the verse harmonic treatment is what allows the chorus to work so well.

Sia has one more interesting goodie for us. It’s not often that we get to hear Augmented Sixth chords in popular music styles; it is usually a classification of chord reserved for classical composers. An Aug 6th is a chord usually built on the flat-VI degree of the scale, and most often resolves to the dominant chord. In this song, we find it in the bridge. The first time we hear it (at 2′ 24″) it simply moves immediately to Cm, but the second time, (2′ 35″) it resolves to G in preparation for the return of C minor. The Aug 6th is a really useful “predominant” chord that gives you a new way of approaching the dominant chord other than from IV.

These devices are very simple to use, and require almost nothing more than a bit of musical imagination. They add a sense of creativity to your music without throwing the balance too far toward unpredictable, and turn something mundane into something that captivates the listener.
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If you want to learn more about the structure of great music, Gary Ewer’s songwriting e-books show you all the ways you can be making your songs really work. Click here to read more.

They have made movies about Troy, Alexander The Great, King Arthur, Spartan warriors (300), Hanibal (the conquerer), Genghis Khan. I think it’s time to make a movie about Daruis (the great Persian king) and Saladin, just to show the beauty of the ancient world in the Middle East and ofcourse I want to see the digital remastered city of Persepolis:). But the problem is that movies based on historic events and people often are a flop. Hope that one day Steven Spielberg or James cameron stand up and buy the rights for one of the above mentioned stories………

MIXTURE for 21 November 2009 (20 minutes):

Downloading and streaming options • Direct link to MP3 file

In music montage (literally “putting together”) or sound collage (“gluing together”) is a technique where sound objects or compositions, including songs, are created from collage, also known as montage, the use of portions of previous recordings or scores. This is often done through the use of sampling, while some playable sound collages were produced by glueing together sectors of different vinyl records.[1] Like its visual cousin, the collage work may have a completely different effect than that of the component parts, even if the original parts are completely recognizable or from only one source. -Wikipedia “Sound collage” article

La Milland-Schneider & Co. era stata fondata nel 1985.

La fabbrica si trovava alla periferia di Folkestone, nel sud dell’Inghilterra, da dove molto facilmente i suoi prodotti potevano attraversare la manica per raggiungere il continente. Nata dall’idea di George Milland , appassionato di pipe e tabacchi, la M-S & Co.  produceva il miglior tabacco del mondo. La migliore miscela inglese. Aveva in produzione anche altri tipi di tabacco ma la “English Mixture MS” era il prodotto di punta. Poche erano, invece, le pipe prodotte ma di ottima radica e dal costo molto elevato. E, pertanto, destinate prevalentemente al mercato statunitense e mediorientale.

Jack Schneider aveva accettato di associarsi a Milland dopo molte insistenze. Non credeva molto nel mercato del tabacco sia per l’enorme concorrenza, sia per la crisi economica mondiale sia  perchè destinato ad un target di nicchia.

Già dal 1987, dopo aver apportato pochi capitali e scarne idee, aveva dato i primi segni di insoddisfazione e più volte aveva esternato la sua volontà ad uscire di scena. L’ingresso nella società,nel 1988,  di due azionisti di minoranza, Hugh Forrest e David McMiller, aveva solo procrastinato la decisione di lasciare l’azienda seppur in fase di floridità.

Nel 1990 dopo tentennamenti, ripensamenti e liti furibonde con George, finalmente alzò i tacchi pretendendo una robusta liquidazione e una quota percentuale mensile sugli utili per vent’anni.

Forrest e McMiller non entrarono mai direttamente nella disputa nè avevano voce in capitolo nelle decisioni più importanti. E   quando  Schneider andò via, dichiararono  al vecchio George fedeltà e volontà nel portare avanti l’azienda che, liberata finalmente, dall’iracondo, causidico e tentennante Jack , poteva solo decollare più in alto.

George Milland aveva il suo ufficio al primo piano della piccola palazzina in mattoni grigi. Era un uomo dedito al lavoro e, spesso, si tratteneva sino a sera inoltrata. Metodico ed  abitudinario cercava di portare le sue idee avanti anche se talvolta frutto di impulso più che di razionalità. Ma, in fondo, non aveva commesso grandi errori. E gli utili della ditta lo dimostravano. Con i suoi occhiali perennemente attaccati al naso che, nascondevano due occhi scuri, buoni e leali, trascorreva le sue giornate tra l’ufficio e la casa che aveva preso da qualche anno ad Hastings.

Jack Schneider era corpulento, borioso, diffidente e pignolo all’inverosimile. Chi conosceva i due si meravigliava come avessero potuto fare coppia. Tanto erano diversi. Tranquillo, moderato, pacato e controllato il primo. Esuberante, eccessivo e accidioso il secondo. Le liti avevano sin da subito contraddistinto i loro rapporti.

Quella sera George stava mettendo a posto le ultime carte prime di andare a casa. Aveva fretta perchè, contrariamente al solito, aveva ospiti. La radio trasmetteva alcune melodie a lui gradite che sottolineava fischiettando. E ciò gli impedì di accorgersi che la porta alle sue spalle si era aperta e che Forrest e McMiller avanzavano verso di lui con dei lunghi ed affilati coltelli tra le mani. Senza fiatare e senza fare il minimo gesto superfluo, i due si avvicinarono con calma alla vittima e brandirono senza pietà una ventina di colpi. Milland si accasciò al suolo senza nemmeno avere il tempo di capire cosa fosse successo.

I due si guardarono in volto e, rapidamente, si diressero alla cassaforte che veniva occultata da una vecchia stampa di Monet. La cassaforte era aperta e, così, non fecero fatica a prelevare l’intero contenuto. Milland era piuttosto antiquato e preferiva tenere il danaro in cassaforte, che reputava sicura, piuttosto che affidarlo alle banche di cui non aveva molta fiducia. Il bottino era sostanziosissimo, quasi 1 milione di sterline.

Jack Schneider nella stanza numero 34 dell’Hotel Park di Dover, fumava come una ciminiera. La stanza era completamente avvolta in una grossa e densa nuvola azzurrognola. Ogni minuto o quasi, si alzava dalla poltrona per andare alla finestra e scrutare la strada, a quell’ora, assolutamente deserta. Cadeva una pioggerellina fitta fitta che ricopriva l’asfalto di un film lucido e scivoloso.

McMiller, il biondino tutto pepe, e Forrest, il pigro bel tenebroso, erano due giovani promesse dell’imprenditoria. Dovevano tutto a Milland che , stimandoli per la loro abnegazione e lealtà, li aveva voluti,a tutti i costi, nella società. Con Schneider, invece, i rapporti erano piuttosto tesi e spesso avevano palesemente parteggiato per George nelle frequenti e reiterate liti fra i due soci di maggioranza. Negli anni successivi alla dipartita di Jack, per la verità, il loro impegno si era affievolito via via sempre più ma, il buon George abituato a fare sempre da sè, non aveva dato peso alla cosa. Cercando, anzi, di render ancor meno gravoso il loro lavoro.

Il clangore del clacson richiamò prontamente alla finestra Jack. Finalmente !

Dopo alcuni istanti che sembrarono un’eternità alla porta della stanza 34 apparvero i volti sorridenti di Hugh e David. Si abbracciarono in silenzio e, dopo essersi divisi il bottino, si allontanarono rapidamente su macchine diverse. Si sarebbero rivisti alcuni mesi dopo a Paramaribo, nel Suriname. Dove , questi erano i progetti, avrebbero preso una piantagione di canna da zucchero e avrebbero vissuto da nababbi.

L’omicidio di George Milland rimase impunito. E poi archiviato. Sul luogo del delitto non fu trovata alcuna traccia che potesse far risalire ai tre. E dagli interrogatori non emerse nulla che potesse far insospettire gli investigatori. Si concluse insomma per un omicidio a scopo di rapina da parte di balordi o rom, il cui campo era a poca distanza dalla fabbrica.

Tutti sogni del povero George erano svaniti in pochi anni. La sua cocciutaggine e la fiducia nel prossimo lo avevano portato a fare ciò che, in fondo, avrebbe potuto fare e bene anche da solo.

☼ 17 maggio 2009

☂ ogni riferimento a persone o fatti è assolutamente casuale

]]> http://soulrefuge.wordpress.com/2009/11/20/twelve-years-of-work-destroyed-in-one-night-the-destructive-influence-of-billy-graham/ Fri, 20 Nov 2009 17:47:43 +0000 soulrefuge http://soulrefuge.wordpress.com/2009/11/20/twelve-years-of-work-destroyed-in-one-night-the-destructive-influence-of-billy-graham/ http://hangingpixels.wordpress.com/2009/11/20/after-a-night-out-strobistlight-painting/ Fri, 20 Nov 2009 03:15:59 +0000 hangingpixels http://hangingpixels.wordpress.com/2009/11/20/after-a-night-out-strobistlight-painting/

This shoot had been in the making for quite some time. Organised by Brent (landscape and light painting expert) with my help on the strobist side, we were to create something of a blend between the two, with the concept of “a girl finding herself lost and alone after a night out”. The site was an abandoned warehouse in Sydney. We had all up about 8 people on location. The idea was to shoot the model with off camera flash then wait until dark to light paint the scenes.

We had 6 cameras lined up on tripods with Pocketwizard Multimax to fire the 580EXII through a softbox. This was pretty simple and straight forward. Each of us had a turn. In the mean time, ambient shots were also taken to act as a background plate.

We had to wait a bit for night time to fall. Brent was preparing his light painting gear with various tubes, colours, sizes, etc.

Each wall was light painted individually for maximum exposure.

After a few hours in Photoshop, below is the final result. The image was a blend of about 8-13 photos, each individually masked and adjusted to fit.

Link here is a flash file showing the layers that were in photoshop.

it’s eleven. i woke up to a text about oysters. i put jeans on in case the man came about the car. i made toast today. two slices. and i sat in the front room and listened to them play guitar and sing. and i just sat and listened. and laughed at G’s reasoning he’d heard off the internet about playing with yourself in an attic. and i’m wearing his polo shirt again as it’s safe and warm. and he came home and told me take it off as he doesn’t have many. but didn’t make me.

and i just stopped typing for a while and pulled the covers over my head. and listened to these songs play and thought. why do i have to over think every situation? why can’t i just go with it? i enjoyed last night. i felt great and today i felt great again. and i think and i make it worse. stop now. it doesn’t matter. none of that matters. it’s being happy that counts. so why give a fuck? you feel great, don’t fuck it up by thinking.

i keep leaving this and coming back. i’m not even going anywhere. just drifting off into a daydream.

and i left it for longer this time. and went and argued with her. but she’s right no matter how much i protest it. she’s right. and i feel myself losing that unconditional love for her and replacing it with something worse more and more often.

i’m still wearing his shirt but only because i can’t find the other shirt that makes me feel safe.

my room is tidy. i’ve hidden the board now. i picked up the photos and counted them facing downwards and put them away neatly. i still can’t stand to look at them yet.

i’m remembering not thinking and i feel fantastic about this. about that. about you.

When you make the effort to grow long hair, you get picky about what you do to it. You come to know how much of a price you can pay for damaging it, not to mention the long growing out time. Experimentation is done only with great caution.

But if you want to dye your hair, you can, even if it’s long. You have to be a little pickier about what you use. Fortunately, there are some great options out there.

You should always pick a hair dye that does not have peroxide. Peroxide can be very damaging to your hair. If you can avoid these, do so. Just look at the ingredients.

Many people with long hair like to use henna or indigo to dye their hair. These can work very well, although you do need to experiment to figure out if the color will be right for you, and the dying process can take a long time. It can be a lot of fun figuring out the exact mixture that gives you the color you want.

A simple way to test a henna or indigo mixture is to clean out your hair brush, and place the hairs in your mixture. Let them sit for a while to see what the resultant color on your hair will be.

Mixing these up is not as simple as opening a tube. You will want to get instructions for the mixture you use. Henna often has to sit for hours before use, and so many people mix it up the night before to give plenty of time for dye release.

Many people who have used henna report that it also has wonderful conditioning properties, and their hair feels wonderful after.

If you choose henna, the best sort is the type that is body art quality that you mix with lemon juice at home. Some henna products include metallic salts, and these are the main cause of bad reactions with other dyes later on. These are not always listed on the label, so it is often wise to just be careful about dying your hair with chemicals after using henna.

Most important is to not overdo the use of chemicals in your long hair. This includes times other than when you’re dying it. Think about the chemicals you use daily. Hair spray, mousse and so forth aren’t good for your hair. Some ingredients in shampoos and conditioners aren’t too good for your hair. The more attention you pay daily to your hair, the better your hair can cope if you do something that does damage it a little.

god, i’m so cold. so, so cold. i’m shivering and shaking. not shaking in the same way as the weekend. just cold. the heating has gone again. but still. so cold.

i’ve seen this episode before.

i’m shivering but the dog is laying on my lap and warming me up.

it was worth it. all this cold. the shivers. for what i felt. it felt like my home, my proper home. funny. i’ve hardly ever been there, well not as much as i’ve been home or to school or town but this is different. this is my place. my field. the one place i can go to and my head can completely be cleared. jesus, the backdoor is open. why the fuck is it so cold? my head is spinning and even inside i feel cold. but my head was cleared. i should have stood at the bus stop and waited but i walked on, i kept walking, cross road, keep walking, cross road, turn right, keep walking, there, home. i crossed till i got to the second field. kept walking till i got to my spot, put my coat on the ground, put my bag down, loaded the film in the camera, took photos, walked, read, russian, walked. then it rained, i curled into a ball, waited for the rain to pass. it rained for so long. more than an hour. i stayed there for over an hour. then i needed to leave. go home. actual home. i knew i was ill the moment i got in. cold. the shivering, i had peel my clothes off. soaked to the bone.

an hour in the rain. a chill. worth it. worth it for the sense of being. worth it for the clearness of the mind. worth it for feeling like i belong.

it’s still so cold. i want a hug. i’ll be back tomorrow. at least i think i will. i’m still freezing. dad’s pajama bottoms. my hoodie. dog on lap. fire on. heating broken. why can’t this family just work? i haven’t seen my father in days. i see her too much. i should be in art right now. i’ll make it up by painting. i haven’t painted since before, i really should.

i want to see you now.

Upam.

Če ne bi blo to moje edino upanje, bi ga zamenjala. Oja, bi ga.
Miselnost ni prava, spodbude ni, ni izziva… Ni Tramupške. ;p

I’ll be strictly personal, i dont know how to do anything else.

Moj faks je v kurcu. Js sm nekje umes – ne na, ne v, za njim? Mogoče.
Moja antipatija do angleščine je iz dneva v dan močnejša. En semester, bejbi, to je vse kar si govorim, ko jo poslušam. Kako nima volje do življenja, kako nima volje do svojega dela, kako ne čuti moči zadihanega zraka, ko le-ta zaobjame njena pljuča. Smog gor dol, diha lahko. In to bi lahko cenila. Da hoče ona preveč dnarja pa nismo mi krivi… Mi smo krivi samo tega, da se na faksu učimo učit…

Zgodnji, mar ne?

Tolažmo se s tem, da je 1.letnik zajeban. Da paaaaač morjo dat bedn predmetnik, da selekcijo nardijo, in zato da je lahko kasnej (enkrat) bolj zabavno in pestro.

Kaj je narobe s prešuštvom?
Prešuštvo je napačno, ker prizadane občutke neprešuštnega partnerja; njemu ali njej povzroči bolečino ali trpljenje. Toda to, bi lahko rekli, ni argument proti prešuštvu kot takem; prej argument proti zemu, da ga zgrešimo na NETAKTEN in NEDISKRETEN način. Bolečine in trpljenja ne povzroči samo prešuštvo, temveč vednost neprešuštnega zakonca o njem. Če se prešuštni zakonec zadeve loti le s trohlico občutka in diskretnosti, sploh ni nujno, da bo drugi zakonec kadarkoli izvedel zanjo.
- I.Primorac – Etika in seks -

A se po dveh letih vse konča? Matr, k bi bla zlata ribca, 30sec spomina, sploh ne bi vedla zase dl kot pol minute. Ohyea.

Mogoče bi lahko hodila na predavanja na teološko. Najdem urnik, izbrskam vsebino predmetov in grem uhe past in možganom razširjat ogrado.
Če sm našla sponzorja, bo lajf lepši, še lepši bo, če bom s sponzorjem lahko ugodno in prijetno sodelovala. Misel na to, na posledice in … :love:

Misel na december mi dvigne raven hormona sreče v krvi za 120%. Ne morm vrjet, ampak sneg, lučke, vonj, vzdušje… Vsako leto me vržejo. Da laži živim.
Depresija je nemogoča v tem času… Konc avgusta se mi sanja o bučah pa noči čarovnic, vonju po zažganih bučah, mrazu. Konc oktobra se mi sanja o decembru, snegu, smrekci, nakupih, Ljubljani, stojnicah, po novem letu se mi sanja o sončku, marcu, zvončkih, kalčkih, brstih, novih cvetih, po toploti, po vonju prvič pokošene trave, po vročini, po…

Aja, Žaga 6 je muj better kt pa 5ka. Vsaj cam verzija se mi je zdela taka. Vlečem k nora spet prvih 5delov.

The effect of math failure throughout years of schooling can seriously handicap both, daily living and vocational prospects. In todays world, mathematical knowledge, reasoning and skills are no less…

(CFD.net.au – Contract for Difference, Share, Forex, ETFs, Commodities Traders) – Prosecutors have withdrawn a large element of their manslaughter case against Mark Wilhelm, who is charged over the death of Dianne Brimble.

The 37-year-old South Australian man is on trial at the Supreme Court in Sydney for the manslaughter of Ms Brimble, who died just hours after boarding the Pacific Sky cruise ship seven years ago.

The Crown alleges the Brisbane woman died from a toxic mixture of alcohol and the drug, fantasy, shortly after having sex with Wilhelm in the early hours of September 24, 2002.

The jury has this morning been told prosecutors are withdrawing their allegation that Wilhelm displayed gross criminal negligence by not treating Ms Brimble after she had taken the drug.

The decision means the jurors will have to disregard a large amount of evidence about the treatment of Ms Brimble after she lost consciousness.

The prosecution still argues Wilhelm is guilty of manslaughter by committing an unlawful and dangerous act in supplying her with fantasy.

Wilhelm has pleaded not guilty.

Crown prosecutor Mark Hobart is delivering his closing address to the jury.

Source: Brimble negligence claims withdrawn

new hair.

new outlook.

lets try this whole new start thing.

3rd October would have  been my Nanna’s 90th birthday, but sadly she died in 1997. However she was a great lover of her sweets. She never ate them, just made a few every now and then. In honour of such a big birthday I’m reproducing below what was one of her favourite recipes, for coconut ice. She was a real whiz in the kitchen and a few weeks before Christmas every year she and my mother would shut themselves away in the kitchen and start baking. That no longer happens now as without her my mother is down one member of a team and has never really baked since she passed away. Anyway, the recipe is below. Thanks for reading.

Ingredients

1.  350g dessicated coconut
2. A large tin of condensed milk (397g should suffice)
3. 350g of icing sugar (Silver Spoon is best)
4. Vanilla extract (You won’t need much of this, a few drops is all)
5. Food colouring  (Most people use pink or red nowadays but my Nanna always swore by yellow)
6. Also some butter (Or Marg) to grease

How To

1. Use a 23cm x 20cm x 4cm deep square cake tin. Rub a little of your butter, or marg, over the inside of the tin, then line the tin and 2 of the sides with baking paper.
2. Next Pour the tin of condensed milk into a large bowl. Then add the coconut, icing sugar and drops of vanilla extract and mix it together really well. Now spoon half of the mixture into the cake tin and flatten it by pressing with damp fingers. (Don’t forget to dampen your fingers)
3. Add a few drops of your chosen colour of food colouring to the mixture in the large bowl and mix it together evenly. Spoon the coloured mixture over the top of the white layer (In the square cake tin) and use damp fingers to smooth the top.
4. Now loosely cover and put in a cool place, leave it overnight, so it will set and dry out. When this has happened use the baking paper to lift the coconut ice from the tin, and then cut into pieces (Should make around 40, however cut it into less if you want larger pieces).  The coconut ice will  need about a day to set so resist all temptation to wolf it down until then.
5.  Finally store in an airtight container in a cool place and consume within 3 weeks. If all’s gone to plan, it should look something vaguely like the ones below.

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it’s so hot right now. off the chart on fire. for the first time i feel hot in this house. i’m burning up right now.

i turned the fire down.

the window’s open.

the music’s on.

i’m thinking and it’s not all bad. for the first time in a long time, the heat’s working it’s way through me.

the music’s blaring. the tv’s on. i can’t think with all of this noise. maybe that’s what i want. to stop all this thinking.

work. work. work.

sixty-three.

i danced for at least an hour. one out of six. dance dance.

christmas songs blaring. and she laughed at me. and i was covered in glitter. and i text him. and i was happy.

people in the living room. i don’t know them.

i’m waiting now.

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it’s so cold in this house. so cold. so draughty.

i don’t like her shoulder pads.

so you’re mad at me, for this, for what i write. well you’re not, it’s not offensive what i wrote and you weren’t speaking to me properly before this. you ignored my plea for your help. give me the real reason.

i liked speaking to you at lunch. i could say what i wanted and you spoke freely and you said what was needed to be said. i miss that. the fact that twice a week we would speak properly. i see you for fifteen minutes and sometimes that just isn’t enough.

no one else is in the house. it’s still so cold. it’s cold under my clothes. under my skin. i feel cold inside.

today’s the first time in weeks that i’ve been home early.

i’ve turned the fire up.