posted 14 hours ago

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thedailywhat:

posted 4 days ago

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Maybe my favorite to date…

Maybe my favorite to date…

posted 4 days ago

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(via youvejustlostthegame)

posted 4 days ago

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nevver:

If this letter doesn’t do it - nothing will.

posted 5 days ago

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I’m a Civil Engineering nerd.

Here is a great post explaining what caused the Bay Bridge to shut this week.

posted 1 week ago

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Imagining the Tenth Dimension (2/2)

posted 1 week ago

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First of two great videos.

‘Imagining the Tenth Dimension (1/2)’

posted 1 week ago

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Two posts

Woke up this morning to read the two posts following this post.

I really like both the similarities and stark differences between the two.

(Rebloged after this post.)

posted 1 week ago

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There are roughly three New Yorks. There is, first, the New York of the man or woman who was born here, who takes the city for granted and accepts its size and turbulence as natural and inevitable. Second, there is the New York of the commuter—the city that is devoured by locusts each day and spat out each night. Third, there is the New York of the person who was born somewhere else and came to New York in quest of something. Of these three trembling cities the greatest is the last—the city of final destination, the city that is a goal. It is this third city that accounts for New York’s high-strung disposition, its poetical deportment, its dedication to the arts, and its incomparable achievements. Commuters give the city its tidal restlessness; natives give it solidity and continuity; but the settlers give it passion. And whether it is a farmer arriving from Italy to set up a small grocery store in a slum, or a young girl arriving from a small town in Mississippi to escape the indignity of being observed by her neighbors, or a boy arriving from the Corn Belt with a manuscript in his suitcase and a pain in his heart, it makes no difference: each embraces New York with the intense excitement of first love, each absorbs New York with the fresh eyes of an adventurer, each generates heat and light to dwarf the Consolidated Edison Company.

i love that little book by E.B and especially this part of it. I came here in 1983 and made it my home and it is very much part of who I am.

Here is New York, E. B. White, 1949 (via cdixon)

(via fred-wilson)

posted 1 week ago

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radarchive:

nedhepburn:

perhaps i shouldn’t blog about this sort of stuff, but i found a really cool apartment at the bottom of the Hollywood sign. and i hope that i get it. because i’d be living, technically, in the Hollywood Hills.
do you know how rad it is to see that sign after you’ve had a shitty day? Los Angeles isn’t so much a city as it is a brilliant idea - that, fuck it, if you don’t make it, then someone else will, so you might as well roll the dice. that all seems to maudlin and tacky, especially to people that live in Los Angeles. yet at the first place i lived at in LA you could see the sign if you climbed up the fire escape. i lived on a guys couch at the Asbury for the first six months i lived there, eating canned tuna and protein powder, and when i could afford beer i’d climb up there and get kind of drunk and think “fuck it, fuck it, fuck it, put all the chips on red, fuck it, might as well go all out while i’m down here”. Bukowski used to live in that building at one point - on the 11th floor - HUGE inspiration. i’d put my headphones on and listen to / sing along to ‘Blue Valentine’ and get yelled at by the assholes on the fourth floor. i never made it past the fourth floor on that fire escape. i’m scared of heights. that, and asshole neighbors who can’t appreciate a well-meaning drunk man on their fire escape singing Tom Waits songs at two in the morning. but i digress.
thats the thing about LA. in other cities, the history is much more apparent. you can see it; be it a building or a monument or what not. one of the best things about Los Angeles is that 95% of the history is all heresay… word of mouth… “didja know?”… “i know a shortcut” sort of thing. while it might not provide the heartwarming grandeur of New York or the comforting affibility of, say, Chicago or Seattle, Los Angeles offers up a lot of hope and - if you’re prepared for it and the literal champagne fountain of bullshit that comes with the uphill struggle - the ability to eventually and ultimately become whatever you want. it’s weirdly euphoric.
its like someone painting a Norman Rockwell painting backwards until you just see a blank page.
anyway, i hope i get this apartment. it’d mean a lot.

radarchive:

nedhepburn:

perhaps i shouldn’t blog about this sort of stuff, but i found a really cool apartment at the bottom of the Hollywood sign. and i hope that i get it. because i’d be living, technically, in the Hollywood Hills.

do you know how rad it is to see that sign after you’ve had a shitty day? Los Angeles isn’t so much a city as it is a brilliant idea - that, fuck it, if you don’t make it, then someone else will, so you might as well roll the dice. that all seems to maudlin and tacky, especially to people that live in Los Angeles. yet at the first place i lived at in LA you could see the sign if you climbed up the fire escape. i lived on a guys couch at the Asbury for the first six months i lived there, eating canned tuna and protein powder, and when i could afford beer i’d climb up there and get kind of drunk and think “fuck it, fuck it, fuck it, put all the chips on red, fuck it, might as well go all out while i’m down here”. Bukowski used to live in that building at one point - on the 11th floor - HUGE inspiration. i’d put my headphones on and listen to / sing along to ‘Blue Valentine’ and get yelled at by the assholes on the fourth floor. i never made it past the fourth floor on that fire escape. i’m scared of heights. that, and asshole neighbors who can’t appreciate a well-meaning drunk man on their fire escape singing Tom Waits songs at two in the morning. but i digress.

thats the thing about LA. in other cities, the history is much more apparent. you can see it; be it a building or a monument or what not. one of the best things about Los Angeles is that 95% of the history is all heresay… word of mouth… “didja know?”… “i know a shortcut” sort of thing. while it might not provide the heartwarming grandeur of New York or the comforting affibility of, say, Chicago or Seattle, Los Angeles offers up a lot of hope and - if you’re prepared for it and the literal champagne fountain of bullshit that comes with the uphill struggle - the ability to eventually and ultimately become whatever you want. it’s weirdly euphoric.

its like someone painting a Norman Rockwell painting backwards until you just see a blank page.

anyway, i hope i get this apartment. it’d mean a lot.

posted 1 week ago

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Schwarzenegger Gives California Legislature A Hidden Finger

posted 1 week ago

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I couldn’t be happier.  My mum just sent me over a big box of Barry’s tea from Ireland.

I couldn’t be happier.  My mum just sent me over a big box of Barry’s tea from Ireland.

posted 1 week ago

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(via loafersansocks)

posted 1 week ago

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[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

Notorious BIG - Party and Bullshit (In the USA Remix)

This song is awesome.  Love it

Miley mixed with BIG.

posted 1 week ago

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