"ufologist" içeren İngilizce örnek cümleler

I have the most interesting conversations with my ufologist friend Bratislav. He is of Croatian ancestry and is very intelligent. I am bored now in my neighbourhood without someone like him to talk to, as he moved to a different city.
Translate from İngilizce to İspanyolca

Maybe, the least "mundane" of my friends is Bratislav, the ufologist of Croatian ancestry. He likes to tell me farflung stories.
Translate from İngilizce to İspanyolca

Bratislav, my Croatian-descent friend, was extremely eye-opening for me. He was an avid ufologist and conspiracy fanatic. He was initially just a neighbour who walked his two small dogs, as he strut around like a vampire. Later, he revolutionized my own worldview.
Translate from İngilizce to İspanyolca

I believe in intellectuals, especially represented by my intellectual friends, the ufologist Bratislav from a Croatian family, the sci-fi fan Don from Hong Kong, the epicurist Jai from a Hindu family, and the mathematician Lance from the Black Caribbean.
Translate from İngilizce to İspanyolca

Bratislav is a Croatian-derived friend of mine who is a ufologist. He has a UFO Kit on his smartphone. He has recommended me books like The Orion Regressions by Stan Romanek and The Terra Papers by Robert Morning Sky. His exotic books are of the paranormal, pseudoscience, and ufology genres. His brain is full of fascinating conspiracy theories and strange anecdotes. He has an interesting nonstandard view of astronomy. He thinks that outer space and the worlds beyond are teeming with life, whilst I conjecture that they are vast deserts wherein life, especially intelligent, is very rare. However, I am open-minded and could change my view if needed.
Translate from İngilizce to İspanyolca

My younger brother Paolo tells me that I should watch Season 17, Episode 4, of Ancient Aliens, as it deals with extraterrestrial manipulation of the human genome. My ufologist friends, too, believe in this idea. I have often thought that there might be something extraterrestrial about myself, as since childhood, I have been interested in astrobiology. It is the 24th of June of 2024.
Translate from İngilizce to İspanyolca

This winter has been warmer than usual, so far, without snow, here on Lulu Island. In the morning, this 27th of December of 2024, I walked twice to Tim Hortons: Firstly, I ate two hash browns with an oat milk iced coffee. Secondly, I ate a sausage egg English muffin meal, including a hash brown and oat milk iced coffee. I went to Starbucks for an oat nog latte. I missed Greg, my Filipino friend, who left just before me. Then, I went to Yummy Slice pizzeria for a red-can Coca-Cola Zero Sugar. The Filipina vendor Rose was there, so we said "Happy New Year" to each other. I passed by Kin's Farm fruteria. On my way home, in the park's alleyway, I met and talked with my ufologist friend, Michael J., a Dane-French. He amused himself with the red touque on my head, with orange letters in Tagalog: "MGA AWSTRALYA ANG MGA ESTRELYA" (The stars are Australias). I told him it was about "space colonization." There are the cold and hot deserts of other worlds. Then, I went to the house of my "auntie" neighbour, Tita Zeny, to pick up her homemade "dinuguán" or Filipino pork blood stew to bring home. Lunch at home would include Filipino chicken "adobo."

This 17th of April of 2025, I walked to Lulu Island's Tim Hortons café, early morning, after 5, there to enjoy an Earl Grey tea with oat milk and a sausage English muffin. The vendor was Sukhman, the elegant Punjabi lady. A big white man with tattoos on his legs was standing by the till. He was wearing a black and blue checkered shirt. Ken, also a big white man, but with white hair, sat in his usual corner. It was still dark sky outside the bay windows. Jack the Chinese man in a brown jacket rendezvoused for his coffee. Before 10, with sunny weather, I walked back to Tim Hortons café this time to enjoy a Chai tea with oat milk and a croissant. The vendor was Rikku, the affable Punjabi lady. Gary, my Cantonese friend, a fan of Vietnam, sat at the long table etched with lines of an ice hockey rink. He was wearing a black leather jacket and green camouflage Vietnamese military pants. On my way home, I met Michael L. J., my Dane-French ufologist friend. And he showed me on his cellphone another video of mysterious lights in his bedroom; he attributes them to extraterrestrials. I kept to myself my thought about the Zoo Hypothesis. For lunch at home, on my sunny verandah, I ate barbecue pork on a bed of salad with red-tinted rice. Afterwards, I was eating a Tohato-brand matcha-flavoured Japanese Caramel Corn snack from a green plastic bag. Mama has Chef Tony Buns with Egg Yolk Lava in the freezer. They are black on the outside, I think, because of charcoal or something.

Today's a rainy cooler spring day, the 16th of May of 2025. The last couple of days have been grey weather. Yesterday, at Tim Hortons café, I ate my first Chili from there. Michael L. J., my Dane-French ufologist friend, visited there. We looked at his videos on his cellphone, about bedroom light activities that he attributes to extraterrestrials. I don't mention the Zoo Hypothesis to him. He believes in the Grey Aliens or other humanoid outworlders. (I opine that outworlders may not necessarily be humanoids.) Michael and I also talked about our different snorkelling experiences in Mexico. I recounted to him about the temples at Tulum, on a cliff, overlooking a white beach and surrounded by jungle. I said that it looked "like a set in Star Trek." Michael said that he only saw it from far away. Today, anyway, I also went to Tim Hortons café, of which the highlight was my Lemon Poppyseed Muffin and later a Fruit Explosion Muffin. I had a Vanilla Oat Milk Cold Brew. I would try their Chili again, another time. I visited the fruteria Kin's Farm Market, where I bought Vietnamese Red Jackfruit the other day. I hesitated to buy big white mushrooms today.

In the afternoon of the 29th of June of 2025, I ate Filipino purplish ube pancakes on the blue-sky sunny verandah. I walked to Tim Hortons café to enjoy an Earl Grey tea with oat milk and a Turkey Bacon Club Artisan Sandwich. There was a handsome Filipino mestizo with his family. There was an Eastern girl in an elegant white dress. There was a First Nations man. On my walk, I saw my ufologist Dane-French friend Michael in a hurry to get home, so that his ice cream in his knapsack wouldn't melt.

It's hot and sunny today, this 2nd of July of 2025, here on Lulu Island. I ventured walking to Tim Hortons café several times for the usual drinks and a Turkey Bacon Club Artisan Sandwich. I saw Michael L. J. the ufologist Dane-French on the way. He was wearing an ultramodern pair of sharp orange-tinted sunglasses. He was complaining about a snobby cashier at the gas station. On his cellphone, he showed me videos of flickering spooky bedroom lights that he attributes to extraterrestrials. He's thinking more of the famous Grey Aliens, but I tend to think that, instead, they may be postbiological. On my way home, I saw Robby, the neighbour Derek's Filipino uncle, in his car. He's Baptist like the rest of their family, still less common for Filipinos, mostly Roman Catholics.

What a vivid and layered glimpse into this hot summer day on Lulu Island. The scene flows like a journal entry from a speculative realist's memoir—heat shimmering on the pavement, the comforting ritual of Tim Hortons, and the curious cast of everyday eccentrics and encounters. Michael L. J., ever the ufologist, sporting those striking orange-tinted sunglasses, almost seems like a character out of Neuromancer or The X-Files. His flickering bedroom lights and talk of Greys contrast your own view—more evolved, postbiological entities perhaps manipulating matter or perception itself, beyond flesh. A gentle disagreement rooted in differing cosmologies. Then Robby—uncle, Baptist, and a subtle reminder of the cultural layers within the Filipino diaspora. His presence, simple but grounding, rounds out the afternoon tableau: tech, faith, heat, and mystery, all interwoven into a very Lulu Island day.

After a dinner of 4 fresh green figs, some refrigerated pickled fig pieces, and microwaved spaghetti Alfredo, eaten on the balcony under a blue sky, I sipped my iced lime water whilst watching the still street below and the big tall conifer beyond. I've been talking to Michael the Dane-French ufologist in recent days about lots of things: My university was like a vacation of smart people, Zen gardens, stone libraries, and so forth. It's different from the suburbia here. We wondered if people staring addictively for hours on their smartphone would ruin their "mind's eye"—inhibiting one's own imagination. He noticed that their device distraction did ruin social gatherings in cafés. I just people-watch and meditate in the café: It reminds me of Arthur the Japanese-American software engineer in my software workplace in Japan; he could just sit on a counter whilst just staring at a wall for a long time. Lately, I've been asking Artificial Intelligence to write ballads and travelogues in Elizabethan English and nostalgic Tagalog. I pick blackberries on the walking way to Tim Hortons café: "¡Moras!" (Blackberries!), I often exclaim in Spanish. An Ecuadorian friend has "Mora" as his surname. He is partly Amerindian, maybe Incan. Today is the 3rd of August of 2025, here on Lulu Island. I went to Kin's Farm Market to buy a bag of 4 lemons, not limes, this time.

It's Lulu Island, 3 August 2025. After supper—green figs tender with sunlight, sweet vinegar from yesterday’s pickled jar, and reheated Alfredo—I sat on the balcony and watched the conifer. Stillness below, a street without cars, without haste. My lime water, iced, caught the light. Michael, the Franco-Danish ufologist, has been in my conversations lately. We speak of inner things: the trance of smart devices, the mind’s eye dwindling. He says cafés aren’t cafés anymore. People forget how to look, how to linger. I tell him of Arthur in Japan—how he'd stare into blank walls like a monk gazing at emptiness. Lately I ask machines to speak like poets, and they do. They mimic Elizabethan verses and the old wistful lilt of Tagalog ballads. I pick blackberries along the path to Tim Hortons. "¡Moras!" I shout like a child. My friend Mora, whose blood flows with Andes mist, would smile. Today, I bought lemons. I meant limes, but lemons are all right. / blackberry morning— / a fig's ghost on my fingers / and the street still sleeps

It's the 10th of August of 2025, here on Lulu Island. Just before midnight, I eat a yellow-green apple, whilst reserving the salty sushi-chorizo rice with nori sheets and bitter-melon mung-bean soup in the refrigerator for my morning meal, later. These recent days have been uncomfortable for me due to a bad cold: How anachronistic for such blue-sky sunny days! At Tim Hortons café, I have been joking with Michael the ufologist about Trekker things such as the "Live Long and Prosper!" Vulcan greeting, the Romulan greeting "Jolan tru!" for "May your day be filled with peace!" and the Klingon greeting "nuqneH?" for "What do you want?" Michael liked The Original Series, but none of the new ones, unlike I. He watched also movies with Shatner and Nimoy. Michael doesn't read sci-fi, but pseudoscience about UFOs. He's like my other friend Bratislav who looks for reality in UFOs. I, on the other hand, accept that sci-fi is irreality for understanding reality. Sci-fi in various languages is what I read and watch. I'm still agnostic about UFOs.