piltdownlad

kill yr idols

 

chagalov:

Alexander Calder, New York, 1940 -by André Kertész  [+]  [+]
from rmn

chagalov:

Alexander Calder, New York, 1940 -by André Kertész  [+]  [+]

from rmn

(via blushingcheekymonkey)

idrivesf:

At Post and Buchanan, in front of the Japantown Peace Plaza, three obviously drunk guys and a totally wasted chick stumble towards my car. They are blonde, Abercrombie and Fitch types, nothing like the vaguely middle-eastern guy named Dan I’m looking for.
“Are you our Uber?” one of the guys demands.
“Are you Dan?”
“No. I’m Steve.”
“I’m looking for Dan.”
“I can be Dan.”
“Sorry.”
The girl approaches and asks why they’re not getting into my car.
“This isn’t our Uber,” the guy tells her.
“Why not?” she squeals and leans into my window. “Can’t you be our Uber?”
“Sorry.” I smile.
“C’mon. I’ll show you my tits.”
“Sorry.” I shrug. 
“Don’t you want to see my tits?” She pushes her shoulders together to emphasize what little cleavage she has. Gyrates her shoulders and winks like she’s Marilyn Monroe, not some drunk preppy girl who probably works in PR because it fits her bubbly personality. “They’re kinda great.”
She’s a B cup at best. I resist the urge to tell her I’m not impressed. I have a pair of DDs waiting for me at home.
Her male friend careens closer and chimes in, “I’ve seen them and they’re fantastic.”
“Look,” I say. “I’m sure your tits are awesome. But I can only pick up designated passengers. Sorry.”
The girl continues to jiggle her goods at me until a couple approach my car from the other side of Post. The guy matches the profile pic in the app.
They slide past the drunk girl as they get in the backseat.
“Sorry about that, Dan,” I say.
“That’s okay.”
The drunk girl waves and shouts as we pull away.  
“That girl is pretty drunk,” I say with a chuckle.
“We know,” says the woman with Dan. “They were in the restaurant.”
I can tell by her tone of voice that the girl and her rowdy friends had interfered with their night out. “Sorry.”
“That’s okay. We’re going home to watch the new Game of Thrones.”
I drive them to one of the new high-rises in South Park. 

idrivesf:

At Post and Buchanan, in front of the Japantown Peace Plaza, three obviously drunk guys and a totally wasted chick stumble towards my car. They are blonde, Abercrombie and Fitch types, nothing like the vaguely middle-eastern guy named Dan I’m looking for.

“Are you our Uber?” one of the guys demands.

“Are you Dan?”

“No. I’m Steve.”

“I’m looking for Dan.”

“I can be Dan.”

“Sorry.”

The girl approaches and asks why they’re not getting into my car.

“This isn’t our Uber,” the guy tells her.

“Why not?” she squeals and leans into my window. “Can’t you be our Uber?”

“Sorry.” I smile.

“C’mon. I’ll show you my tits.”

“Sorry.” I shrug. 

“Don’t you want to see my tits?” She pushes her shoulders together to emphasize what little cleavage she has. Gyrates her shoulders and winks like she’s Marilyn Monroe, not some drunk preppy girl who probably works in PR because it fits her bubbly personality. “They’re kinda great.”

She’s a B cup at best. I resist the urge to tell her I’m not impressed. I have a pair of DDs waiting for me at home.

Her male friend careens closer and chimes in, “I’ve seen them and they’re fantastic.”

“Look,” I say. “I’m sure your tits are awesome. But I can only pick up designated passengers. Sorry.”

The girl continues to jiggle her goods at me until a couple approach my car from the other side of Post. The guy matches the profile pic in the app.

They slide past the drunk girl as they get in the backseat.

“Sorry about that, Dan,” I say.

“That’s okay.”

The drunk girl waves and shouts as we pull away.  

“That girl is pretty drunk,” I say with a chuckle.

“We know,” says the woman with Dan. “They were in the restaurant.”

I can tell by her tone of voice that the girl and her rowdy friends had interfered with their night out. “Sorry.”

“That’s okay. We’re going home to watch the new Game of Thrones.”

I drive them to one of the new high-rises in South Park. 

(Source: idrivesf)

Piltdownlad #10. This one did not come easy but it’s finally in print.

Piltdownlad #10. This one did not come easy but it’s finally in print.

sculpture-center:

FROM THE ARCHIVES: Sound/Art, 1984. SculptureCenter, New York. Vito Acconci, Three Columns for America, 1976. Wood, table, stools, headphones, sound. Dimensions variable. Image courtesy the artist.  

sculpture-center:

FROM THE ARCHIVES: Sound/Art, 1984. SculptureCenter, New York. Vito Acconci, Three Columns for America, 1976. Wood, table, stools, headphones, sound. Dimensions variable. Image courtesy the artist.  

(via blushingcheekymonkey)

sflyftdriver:

Alternate cover for Behind the Wheel: A Lyft Driver’s Log
by Irina Dessaint

From the new Tumblr blog I started to document my experiences doing the rideshare thing in San Francisco.

sflyftdriver:

Alternate cover for Behind the Wheel: A Lyft Driver’s Log

by Irina Dessaint

From the new Tumblr blog I started to document my experiences doing the rideshare thing in San Francisco.

(Source: idrivesf)

Piltdownlad #10 – Behind the Wheel: A Lyft Driver’s Log 
From the trenches of San Francisco’s sharing economy: A Lyft confessional.
Ride shotgun with me as I cruise through San Francisco’s latest Tech Boom and divulge the stories, conversations and opinions of the passengers I pick up along the way.
Read excerpts here and here.
A Kindle Version is available now. The illustrated print copy with navigational maps is coming soon. Preorder to ensure a copy.

Piltdownlad #10 – Behind the Wheel: A Lyft Driver’s Log

From the trenches of San Francisco’s sharing economy: A Lyft confessional.

Ride shotgun with me as I cruise through San Francisco’s latest Tech Boom and divulge the stories, conversations and opinions of the passengers I pick up along the way.

Read excerpts here and here.

A Kindle Version is available now. The illustrated print copy with navigational maps is coming soon. Preorder to ensure a copy.

another-echo-chamber:

TEEN ANGELES magazine - cholo and chicano culture from california and the rest of the u.s.

i was tempted to post the “chola bands” by themselves, but this magazine had all kinds of great shit in it.

(via guero-from-the-ghetto)

PIltdownlad #9 - Pamphleteria: The Rise and Fall of Phony LidPart One: Shut Up and Publish
The first part of a three part series, this is the story of how I started publishing my first zine, Vagabond, back at the turn of the century. I’d just acquired a computer and was ready to take over the world. Or course, life got in the way. So it’s also about dealing with failed relationships, having a fucked up family, working dead end jobs in Birmingham, Alabama, and the search for existential meaning. Or just something to take my mind off all the bullshit. Still, a work in progress. 
half-size . 64 pp . perfect bound
trade or etsy

PIltdownlad #9 - Pamphleteria: The Rise and Fall of Phony Lid
Part One: Shut Up and Publish

The first part of a three part series, this is the story of how I started publishing my first zine, Vagabond, back at the turn of the century. I’d just acquired a computer and was ready to take over the world. Or course, life got in the way. So it’s also about dealing with failed relationships, having a fucked up family, working dead end jobs in Birmingham, Alabama, and the search for existential meaning. Or just something to take my mind off all the bullshit. Still, a work in progress. 

half-size . 64 pp . perfect bound

trade or etsy

desert-nausea:

Einstürzende Neubauten staging their instruments in front of the Olympia Stadion, Berlin.

desert-nausea:

Einstürzende Neubauten staging their instruments in front of the Olympia Stadion, Berlin.

journalofanobody:

supruntu:

Louis-Ferdinand Céline et Toto, Meudon, reportage de François Pagès pour Paris-Match, 1957

Brilliant. 

journalofanobody:

supruntu:

Louis-Ferdinand Céline et Toto, Meudon, reportage de François Pagès pour Paris-Match, 1957

Brilliant. 

(Source: suicidewatch, via prolixprole)