Tag Archives: Fiction

WTF?! THIS EXACT MOMENT 105 YEARS AGO . . . APRIL 14, 1912

 

The R.M.S. Titanic hits an iceberg and the 20th Century will never be the same.

 

Imagine how different 1997 would have been without this megalith of a movie hitting the screens?We might not even have the same Kate or Leo we have today?! Winter of 1997/98 wouldn’t have been consumed by 12 theatre viewings of “TITANIC”!!!

We shudder to think . . .

+TITANIC 4 LIFE +

On a serious note; I’m not sure what it is about this majestic ship that has always captured my imagination. I’m guessing its a mixture of the Edwardian elegance, decadence, and grandeur of the ship – the microcosm of society contained within it – and the hubris of the upper echelon whose powers control the world to this day, and the tragedy that ensued as a result.

There are many many many fascinating details regarding this ship, but perhaps the most stimulating aspect of the Titanic’s untimely fate is that it was predicted 14 years earlier by a pulp novella entitled The Wreck of the Titan: Or, Futility which I was lucky to read before the film had even been in production.

Talk about psychic premonitions; author Morgan Robertson (also the self proclaimed inventor of the periscope) chillingly predicts much of the Titanic’s destiny with his fictional telling of an enormous “unsinkable” triple screw British luxury ocean liner named the S.S. TITAN  which meets its untimely demise on a cold April night in the North Atlantic after it hits an iceberg losing almost everyone on board due to a lack of lifeboats.

{click here to read the rundown of similarities between the TITANIC and TITAN}

CRAZY, RIGHT?! This is 14 years before the infamous disaster! Designs for Titanic‘s sister ship didn’t even go into production until 1908. How was it that Morgan Robertson could right a tale so shockingly similar to the Titanic’s actual events. Was he psychic? Was it planned?

TIME TRAVEL???

The whole thing is absolutely incredible, and definitely worth looking more into.

+ DESTINY DAZES +

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Life sure is strange, sometimes.

Lest we forget.

{theEye}

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E.O.F. Presents +KNIGHTS OF THE SANDCASTLE+

knights of the sand castle 1

+KNIGHTS OF THE SANDCASTLE +

There once was a mysterious band of knights who roamed and raved their days and nights along the banks of the cool dark waters. Young and wild, they howled at the moon like the wolves, and on the clear days when the sun seemed to sparkle like diamonds on their faces, they stood sullen like statues of antiquity before cawing and cooing outrageously to their peers. 

They sat watching the crowd waves roar; the boardwalk full of walking visitors, strange and new from far away places, that would all turn away in disdain from the boys of summer, sensing somehow their mighty position above it all . . . 

knights of the sandcastle 4

knights of the sand castle 3

They weren’t there for the sights and sounds, instead vying for an order of things far from the distressing quarrels of everyday society. 

Simple positions shared amongst them all. One assigned to watch, another to distribute, another to discover, and the rest to play by the rules. No one over stepped a turn at the bottle, for each one knew that their last could be any day.  Neville, one of the leaders, would say, ‘Never shy from your true colours’ and these they would display with unbroken pride. 

knights of the sandcastle 2

knights of the sandcastle 6

Your honour was earned by the friendships you garnered and gathered. 

Some say they had magic on their sides; magic powers taken from the ages, used to ensure their place along the sand dunes. Others say they made friends easily, but were actually ghosts playing games on the common folk. 

Only one place in the world for them. A sacred fellowship that haunts us all to this day . . . 

I like to imagine seeing them there every time I go back to the seaside. Guarding their little corner of the Earth, and protecting the small sliver of paradise they managed to claim as their own. 

knights of the sandcastle 5

Sometimes I can hear them sing their favourite tune; a memory that wavers from faded dream to brilliant exuberance.

 It was a familiar one made their own by one of their musically gifted initiates – 

 

“Going down to Stoney End.

 I never wanted to go down to Stoney End. 

Momma let me start all over! 

Cradle me Momma!

Cradle me Again . . . “

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GET THE LOOK IN THE {SHOP} !

Screen shot 2014-03-22 at 10.31.21 PM

The Knights of the Sandcastle need your help reviving their unique spirit that has been suppressed by the ages.

With their help, you too can be free. We have lots of wicked vintage apparel in the {SHOP} today so make sure you take a look, and invite a friend while you’re at it!

Our {SHOP} on ETSY is stocked full of goodies, so take a peak before they’re gone. . .

XIXIXI

is

the magic

word.

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Unti next time,

{theEye}

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E.O.F. Snapshot of the Day {September 10, 2013}

buster crabbe flash

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Buster Crabbe as Flash Gordon

{1936}

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Until next time,

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{theEye}
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THIS DAY IN HISTORY: ROSWELL TURNS 66 !!!

Roswell-Sacramento-Bee-Article-July-8-1947

fake roswell alien

This is a still from what Ray Santilli claimed was film footage taken from the Roswell UFO incident depicting an alien autopsy. The film was released in 1995, but later revealed in 2006 as a hoax. Santilli maintains that it was a reconstruction of real events opposed to a fabrication. 

Today marks the 66th anniversary of the alleged crash of a flying saucer just outside Roswell, New Mexico.

This special date, and strangely special anniversary number (66 being a universal number of unconditional love, healing, and trust in the divine), are being celebrated by Google today in their daily Doodle.

It was a very frightening and exciting time, that has no doubt shaped and changed our society and culture forever. After several witnesses spotted seeing flying saucers over Roswell, New Mexico on July 8, 1947, suspicions were raised after Roswell Army Air Field (RAAF) public information officer Walter Haut announced that a “flying disk” had been recovered on a ranch near Roswell in a press release. Witnesses at site also claim to have seen alien bodies.

Photograph of Army Guy Sorting Through Roswell Debris - flying saucer- vintage- 1948

These bodies are said to have been taken into top secret research laboratories where they were studied and stored away for future query. Also under question is the alien craft, which many suspect were taken in by the military, and used for their advanced technologies which helped jet us forward into the Space Age.

While the U.S. government has continued to deny the claims (an official 1997 report Case Closed: Final Report on the Roswell Crash attempted to close the case), millions of people still find truth in the dozens of witnesses who have come forward since, claiming to have seen the fragments of another world.

Vintage Photograph of Roswell Debris

Classified Military Documents- Roswell- Proof

Since then flying saucers and aliens like those described by witnesses have flooded public consciousness and become a mainstay of popular society. And while the government might deny the existence of aliens at Roswell, they sure were interested in the existence of U.F.O.’s, which they documented heavily in the files of Project Blue Book which was shut down in January 1970, and  is now open to public inspection.

[click here to view Project Blue Book archives online today]

We might never know in our lifetime, but the way things are going, I wouldn’t be surprised if we did!

Fingers crossed.

Until next time,

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{theEye}
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{STYLE WISE} – “Stranger Than Paradise”

“STRANGER THAN PARADISE . . . “

by The Eye of Faith

On a journey through the mystery of the most beautiful place on Earth.

Taking us to a world both wild and exotic, this series was inspired by the faded 1940s dreams and memories of life on the high seas in the South Pacific. It is the tale of society’s soldiers taken hostage by the wild. In many ways, it is a true Paradise Lost lived . . .
In a place where the air is hot and its perfume sweet it is hard not to be intoxicated by your surroundings –
lost in a paradise.

+”Nothing is quite as strange, as a day spent in Paradise”+

+GET THE LOOK+

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Hope you enjoy!

Sincerely,

{theEye}

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Crazy Christmas: Hillarious Vintage Holiday Advertising !

EOF Crazy Christmas- Just What I Asked For

{“You’ll Shoot Your Eye Out!”}

There are pretty crazy things out there these days, but the holiday season of the past was truly a weird and wild place, where you can never expect what you might find leafing through your holiday catalog, or coffee table magazines.

Dozens of inappropriate, odd, and down right bizarre suggestions can be found looking through vintage publications; most of which would never EVER make it to the pages of a magazine or catalog today.

We decided to share just a few of our favorites, and hope you enjoy them too!

EOF Crazy Christmas - Naughty Santa

{ Naught Santa! I guess everyone deserves their kicks . . .}

EOF Crazy Christmas - You'll Shoot Your Eye Out

{“Buck! Don’t Bother Your Sister!”}

EOF Crazy Christmas- Chesterfield Xmas Ads

{These Would Make a Killing, Today!}

EOF Crazy Christmas- Undies Are Fundies{“No Comment.” }

EOF Crazy Christmas - Daisy Christmas Guns{“Now, no one can get in the way of our family!”}

EOF Crazy Christmas - Lucky Strike Xmas{Need anyone say more?}

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Sincerely,

{theEye}

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{No one messes with Norma. Especially Not Her Husband Norm.}

MID-CENTURY MODERN

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“The Old Man on the Corner” by Waldo Tomosky

Waldo Tomosky is one of our regular visitors here at The Eye of Faith, and wished to share this short story with us, citing it as both unique and divine – two very important words we hold close to us here at The Eye.

We couldn’t agree more, and decided we’d share it with you all here at The Eye of Faith.

This story entitled “The Old Man on the Corner” plays off Waldo’s own memory as a boy living in a small town, and how the simplest things in the world can come to be the most profound in the end….

+ THE OLD MAN ON THE CORNER +

by Waldo Tomosky

There is a state that is not what it used to be. There is a village within that state that falls into the same category. Families have an obligation to prepare the next generation for a better life. Political regions apparently do not have that same obligation.

The village has a city name; Johnson City. From the period of my first memories of village life, until the time when I entered the army, I always remember one specific street corner.

At one time a large store was located there. If my memory serves me correctly it was a hardware store. I do clearly remember, I am sure, that to enter the store you had to climb three massive concrete stairs that wrapped around the entire front.

The store no longer exists, due to a fire. A silvery aluminum diner was finally placed on the site. It has always been called the “Red Robin Diner.” But this story is not about inanimate objects; it is about people, or, more succinctly, it is about one man. This man was one of several that were, and are, always located on that corner. Their faces change and their manner changes but they are the same men.

They are retirees, older men living off a pension, a government dole, or off their savings. When I was young they sat on an old wooden bench that was painted red. It probably belonged to the village. The men smoked, and talked about something that I was never privileged to hear. They also had a bottle of something or other that was wrapped in a brown paper sack. In between cigarettes, or cigars, they would pass the sack around and each man had a swig of whatever was hidden in it.

They were nice friendly men. There were no loud voices or harsh words. They simply enjoyed each others company and nodded “hello” to the folks that passed them by. A nice toothy (or toothless) grin usually accompanied the “hello.”

I previously stated that the story is about one man. Possibly my memory has played some tricks on me over the years and this one man is a composite of all the old men that have located themselves on that corner. It makes no difference. This singular or composite soul was friendly, cheerful, unshaven, had a hole in his pants, and his shoes (that were once meant for work) were never polished. Yes; that is a good analogy. His shoes were like he was, unpolished but substantial, faithful, ready to serve.

This man smoked a pipe (in between nips). It was not a beautiful meerschaum pipe. It appeared to be made of briarwood and had a plain shape. He lit his pipe with what us youngsters called “farmer matches.” They were not your modern safety matches. They were more functional for a pipe smoker. The matches were singular (not in a pack) and had a hefty piece of wood (not the cheap paper stick that we now use). The heads had a section to burn and a section to strike. The striking portion was on the end and was typically white in color. Once struck, the burning section would be ignited which in turn would set the hefty wooden stick aflame.

Once again we are not here to compare the old with the new but rather to set into motion the details about this old man and his wooden matches. Keep in mind the attributes of this old man. He was wise, somewhat the worse for wear (as we all would be if we had completed the tasks that he had), a little unkempt, but most importantly he loved the people around him. In fact he loved them almost as much as he loved lighting his pipe. I really believe he enjoyed lighting those farmer matches. He was constantly at it.

The match would appear from nowhere. He would be inspecting it before the casual observer even knew he had one in his hand. The old man would test the wooden section for sturdiness. Then he would spin it between his fingers and inspect the white striking end. This would be followed by an inspection of the secondary lighting section (which was usually red but sometimes blue). Once he was satisfied, the match would be struck against some hard surface. The striking end would burst open into a star like pattern with other minor star patterns being created from the original one; then additional star patterns were created from the secondary ones. You could never tell how many star patterns were created due to the fact that it happened so fast. Yet, you knew that several patterns existed before they died out. At that same moment the secondary fire (blue or red; it makes no difference) would occur. This would create yet another burst of energy that exceeded what was necessary to light the pipe. The old man would keep the creation at a safe distance until the wooden section was on fire. Only at that time would he light his pipe.

I must repeat that he appeared to enjoy lighting the matches as much as smoking the pipe. I say this because he would always use about five matches for every pipe-full of tobacco. Additionally, his eyes would gleam with joy whenever he lit a match. It was not the gleam of a pyromaniac but rather the gleam of someone who created something. He appeared proud like a new father, or, had that “ah-ha!” moment of someone who had a new insight. It was something that I never understood but always was amazed at observing. How could an old man on a corner get such satisfaction out of lighting his pipe?

It was only when I had my own “ah-ha!” moment (years later) that I understood the old man on the corner. The ceremony of the pipe was his creation yet every time he accomplished that act he knew exactly what would occur. Oh, I don’t mean that he knew how many star patterns there would be, and he sure didn’t know what was located on those minute cinders that resulted from the burnt out star patterns. He only knew that he could create them and that the results would take care of themselves. It was only natural that there would be star-cinders, flame energy and gases, and finally the wooden stick that would serve as the means to the end.

Therefore I believe that somewhere beyond all the galaxies, their stars, the gases, the unbridled energy, the cinder-like asteroids, the unknown black holes, there is an old man standing on a corner lighting his pipe. There is, most likely, a hole in his pants. There may be some friends that he shares nectar with; although I can not quite picture it being hidden in a brown paper sack. He is friendly and benevolent but does not care to guide our every move. He simply likes to create a stir with his farmer matches. He loves the explosive star patterns, likes to watch the flames and gasses that are created by the red and blue sections, and is somewhat disappointed when the wooden section finally burns out.

He knows that he will need to re-light his pipe in a few minutes and also knows that the residue of the last match will have to take care of itself. He doesn’t know that we are riding on one of the smallest cinders and that we treat the last burning ember of the striking ember as the center of our system. Time to him is irrelevant. Time to us is in light-years.

We have made such a big thing out of someone lighting a pipe. It is really very simple. We do not know (and will never know) where the beginning and end is. It is not really our beginning or our end; they are His matches and His pipe. So therefore the creative act of lighting farmer matches goes on. The center of the sphere of sparks is everywhere yet nowhere. The length of time for a match to exhaust itself is both future and past (of which neither really exist). Yet we continue to attempt to identify the past through something we call history and the future through something we call science.

It is just an old man lighting his pipe.

© Copyright – Waldo Tomosky

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Waldo has a lot more where the came from over at his blog, so please check it out!

Sincerely,

{theEye}

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Johan Renck Brings 1960s French Sci-Fi Cool to Latest Ad for Perrier

Something about this new ad for Perrier really brings me back in time. The french brand has impressed us before with a series of videos featuring legendary style icon Dita Von Teese taking us on a glamorously risque tour of her body and the elusively decadent Perrier Mansion.

Entitled “The Drop“, this latest film continues on the blazing train of creative ingenuity, with this brilliant bend of 1960s French Sci-Fi aesthetic glory. The auteur helming the creative vision is Johan Renck, a director of Breaking Bad, and Walking Dead.

We love the gold space suit and artful editing – it’s just a scorching hot day on Earth, and and only one woman who can cool us down…We also love the India Inspiration!

The visuals immediately reminded us of Roman Copolla‘s 2001 film “CQ” that featured supermodel Angela Lindvall as Dragonfly in a fake French 1960s Sci-Fi film. The film was hardly a blimp on the radar, which is a shame, because it features some great design, a wicked soundtrack, and really fun and playful acting (especially Lindvall).

What’s better than bringing the idea of a low-budget French Sci-Fi film in 1969 Paris to life??! Can’t think of anything else at the moment…

Perrier‘s latest campaign,”The Drop“, takes the 1960s sci-fi aesthetic to a whole new level, reinventing it for 2012, but staying clearly reminiscent. With an artist like Renck involved, it’s hard to go wrong. But it really is an artful eye that makes this such a captivating and clever little film.

Until next time,

{the Eye}

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