i’d go out to find some nights in LA, and a lot of nights in SF (depending on the neighborhood) like this. certain soundtracks, entire acts of unwritten movies in the haze and fog. EXT. SHAKESPEARE BRIDGE…EXT. FULTON ST NEAR THE BUNNY MEADOW…EXT. THE PAGE…EXT. STREET BETWEEN RED CORDNER ASIA AND HARVARD/STONE
it’s all in there. does it all just stay in here?
i’d dump it in an upload if i could…source material for some 90th century kid’s diorama.
A Superior Mirage that comes from the Italian term named after the Arthurian sorceress Morgan le Fay, from a belief that these mirages, often seen in the Strait of Messina, were fairy castles in the air or false land created by her witchcraft to lure sailors to their deaths. It’s also believed that this illusion caused the myth of The Flying Dutchman to emerge.
Primeval Chaos …it was like walking into some long lost past. The explosion of life out of decay was otherworldly. To say there was green everywhere does a disservice to the profuse range of light, shades and color. A light mist moistened everything and the damp scents of decay & spring growth added to the sounds of the forest and made for an intoxicating experience. (new title & descripton)
wow millennials are glued to their i-phones and laptops so much they cant even be bothered robbing in person anymore!!! maybe these trust fund babies should stop phishing credit cards while sitting on their butts and go out there and put some elbow grease into their thievery!
I know exactly what happened. Because it happened to me.
I trained for years to be a con artist. I told my friends and family that I wanted to be a magician, but that was just a cover for why I was constantly practicing sleight of hand.
In junior high and high school, I would shop lift a bunch of candy on my way to school, sell it to kids at the morning break, and use that money to run a crooked poker game at lunch.
Finally, when I was 19 or 20, I felt I was ready, and I picked my first pocket. I was on the bus, bumped a guy as I passed down the aisle, got his wallet, super clean.
In the wallet was several hundred dollars. A huge first score, I had been hoping for a couple twenties. I sat there looking at the, like, 400 bucks, thinking.
That was my rent at the time. We were both on the bus. It was likely his rent too. Lord knows the only reason to carry that much cash on the bus is you’re on your way to pay a bill. We were both on the bus, you know? That’s not someone I was comfortable stealing from.
I tapped him on the shoulder and told him “hey i think you dropped this” and gave it back to him with all the money still in it. It was the first and last time I ever picked a pocket.
Picking a rich person’s pocket is a loosing game. They probably have credit cards and not cash, those credit cards probably have the best anti-theft measures their bank can provide, and you probably can’t get close enough to those people to pick their pockets unless you’re already rich yourself.
The people who’s pockets you can reliably pick are the people around you. The people who are also on the bus, who are in this same shitty situation with you.
As wealth inequality becomes more drastic picking pockets has very clearly become “stealing from other poor people” and it’s not satisfying. I want to steal from Google and Apple and Fox and Facebook and General Mills and Hershey and Tesla. Not the person next to me.
Wow. This post went from funny to a life lesson in a way I wasn’t expecting, amd I’m not sorey at all.
See, unlike the capitalist elite, common criminals have a sense of morality and empathy.
This reminds me of the line from the Better Call Saul episode we watched the other night.
Mike Ehrmantraut: I’ve known good criminals and bad cops, bad priests, honorable thieves — you can be on one side of the law or the other, but if you make a deal with somebody, you keep your word. You can go home today with your money and never do this again, but you took something that wasn’t yours and you sold it for a profit. You’re now a criminal; good one, bad one — that’s up to you.
you know who’s gay? paul the real estate novelist who never had time for a wife and davey who’s still in the navy and probably will be for life
New headcannon: everyone in that song is gay except the Piano Man who has no idea he’s playing at a gay bar and the staff and regulars have a betting pool on how long he’ll take to finally figure it out. So far John is ahead.
“The manager gives me a smile ‘cause he knows that it’s me they’ve been coming to see” also implies that the Piano Man is possibly an incredibly attractive but oblivious himbo, and if you listen to the rest of it imagining that, this all fits a little too well.
this makes too much sense. Also, the full quote is “Now John at the bar is a friend of mine. He gets me my drinks for free. And he’s quick with a joke or to light up your smoke. But there’s someplace that he’d rather be” Yes, your bed, he wants to be on your bed honey, that’s not a joke, he is flirting with you.
Lighting another man’s cigarette is some old-school gay cruising.
I actually think the real advantage tumblr has over other websites is the ability of “reblogging” to create posts with contributions from multiple users. This allows people to build on others’ posts, whether that’s derailing them with a terrible joke, drawing the scenario proposed as a comic, answering the question posed originally in lively essay format, or rewriting the previous interaction as a scene in Shakespearean iambic pentameter.
This is also why Tumblr is hard to make profitable. Individual users have relatively little power to create good content. It’s interactions between users that actually creates the good content, and therefore, no one involved in the good stuff on Tumblr can really claim to “own” it or be the “creator.”
Posts have to navigate through Tumblr to pick up the people that can add to them in a constructive way, and then when users interact, the whole interaction can spread across the website as a new evolution of the content. There’s no way to simplify this process.
Theres a whole ecosystem running here. It’s not as simple as Creators and Consumers, and you can’t simplify it to that. That’s not how ART works, let alone posts. There’s symbiosis. The users that do the nitrogen fixation aren’t the ones photosynthesizing. The detritivores can’t also be the predators. The “rappers doing normal shit blog” has a different niche than the person that asks why Lil Wayne has socks on in the jacuzzi, who has a different niche than the person who says “those are his hooves, you bitch!”
It’s like bioavailability, you see. The user that responds “Those are his hooves, you bitch” is like a predator on a high trophic level, unable to directly feed on producers, needing primary consumers to convert the post into a form that makes a punch line possible.
This is what I love about Tumblr. It feels more like discussing a common matter with the people you meet while out for a walk than trying to hold a conversation with twenty people at once in a crowded room
I have seen a lot of these “how Tumblr works”-posts going around lately, and I think this one says it really well. I’m not necessarily here for the original post but for the snowball effect of a reblog chain that hopefully follows
College dorms in the late 90s early 2000s had poster boards everywhere and everyone stuck random notes on, some that continued a conversation. Tumblr makes me think of college posterboards.
Tumblr is improv. We’re constantly yes-anding each other.
