fry me to the moon.



touchofgrey:

stirringitup:

onemansjunk:
george w. bush. september 11, 2001.

touchofgrey:

stirringitup:

onemansjunk:

george w. bush. september 11, 2001.
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

onemansjunk:

“the rising” (live). by bruce springsteen.
(43 plays)
barelyoutoftuesday:

onemansjunk:
mike tyson. yup, that mike tyson.

barelyoutoftuesday:

onemansjunk:

mike tyson. yup, that mike tyson.

have you heard from johannesburg?

beauthor:

onemansjunk:

no wonder that south african prince who e-mailed me a while back hasn’t sent that $10,000,000 through paypal yet. maybe the check is coming via pigeon.

JOHANNESBURG – A South African information technology company proved it was faster for them to transmit data with a carrier pigeon than to send it using Telkom, the country’s leading internet service provider.

Internet speed and connectivity in Africa’s largest economy are poor because of a bandwidth shortage. It is also expensive.

chestrockwell:

onemansjunk:
excerpt from walking. by henry david thoreau. 1862.

chestrockwell:

onemansjunk:

excerpt from walking. by henry david thoreau. 1862.
chestrockwell:

onemansjunk:
excerpt from travels with charley. by john steinbeck. 1962.

chestrockwell:

onemansjunk:

excerpt from travels with charley. by john steinbeck. 1962.
[Flash 9 is required to listen to audio.]

oncewaslostandfound:

onemansjunk:

“starter motor repair” by the jerky boys.

“350 pieces? what the f#ck you talking about? pounds, baby, POUNDS!”

(63 plays)
when you meet someone and he becomes your brother, and you create stuff together that is possible greater than your individual parts, you’ll go down the road a little farther with that person than you should because you love him.
—excerpt from riders on the storm. an autobiography by john densmore of the doors.
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onemansjunk:

could poo trap be the greatest invention since vapoorize in that movie envy with jack black and ben stiller? i love that it’s available in eight sizes.
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she’d been home a few times, holidays mainly, but never knocked on my front door. in almost two years since she first left, we never spoke. sometimes, i wished i’d never said anything. other times, i hoped i’d said it differently. almost always i reached the conclusion that whatever i did, it wouldn’t have been enough. but I waited anyway.
—excerpt from moments in a box. by ben rohrbach. chapter 20. (via onemansjunk)