WRECK & SALVAGE

We are three internet hobos riding the rails of digital refuse, navigating through the brambles, backwoods, and country roads. Huddled around this campfire we share stories of our journeys. We make videos from videos, from computers for computers, of the people, by the people, for the people.

WE USE SLAGGITS

An alternative currency project by Wreck & Salvage. Send us three pieces of paper, we'll send you some money.

Slaggits
Suddenly you’re ripped into being alive. And life is pain, and life is suffering, and life is horror, but my god you’re alive and its spectacular.

— Joseph Campbell  (via exoticwild)

(Source: paintgod, via patternsofbehavior)

What if the point of life has nothing to do with the creation of an ever-expanding region of control? What if the point is not to keep at bay all those people, beings, objects and emotions that we so needlessly fear? What if the point instead is to let go of that control? What if the point of life, the primary reason for existence, is to lie naked with your lover in a shady grove of trees? What if the point is to taste each other’s sweat and feel the delicate pressure of finger on chest, thigh on thigh, lip on cheek? What if the point is to stop, then, in your slow movements together, and listen to the birdsong, to watch the dragonflies hover, to look at your lover’s face, then up at the undersides of leaves moving together in the breeze? What if the point is to invite these others into your movement, to bring trees, wind, grass, dragonflies into your family and in so doing abandon any attempt to control them? What if the point all along has been to get along, to relate, to experience things on their own terms? What if the point is to feel joy when joyous, love when loving, anger when angry, thoughtful when full of thought? What if the point from the beginning has been to simply be?

— Derrick Jensen (via subconsciousflow)

(via patternsofbehavior)

There are years that ask questions and years that answer.

Zora Neale Hurston (via theriverjordyn)

Days, hours, minutes…

(Source: larmoyante, via theriverjordyn)

Men want the sense of power more than they want the sense of freedom. They want the feeling that comes to them as providers for women more than they want the feeling that comes to them as free men. They want some one dependent on them more than they want a comrade. As long as they can be lords in a thirty-dollar flat, they are willing to be slaves in the great world outside… .

Feminism for Men | Floyd Dell | The Baffler

First published in The Masses (July 1914).

(via jomc)

100 years later, still relevant as ever, but I think you need to include the next paragraph along with the one above….supplying below:

In short, they are afraid that they will cease to be sultans in little monogamic harems. But the world doesn’t want sultans. It wants men who can call their souls their own. And that is what feminism is going to do for men—give them back their souls, so that they can risk them fearlessly in the adventure of life. . . .

(via jomc)

Every person who speaks in absolutes is an idiot.

Here’s my river, although this was taken from Louisville upstream a bit, so it didn’t feel quite like mine.

I was going to type this out and quote it but I’m too busy reading. The whole chapter should be reblogged. Tom Robbins, Villa Incognito.

How strange and wonderful is our home, our earth, with its swirling vaporous atmosphere, its flowing and frozen liquids, its trembling plants, its creeping, crawling, climbing creatures, the croaking things with wings that hang on rocks and soar through fog, the furry grass, the scaly seas. To see our world as a space traveler might see it, for the first time, through Venusian eyes or Martian antennae, how utterly rich and wild it would seem, how far beyond the power of the craziest, spaced-out, acid-headed imagination, even a god’s, even God’s, to conjure up from nothing. Yet some among us have the nerve, the insolence, the brass, the gall to whine about the limitations of our earthbound fate and yearn for some more perfect world beyond the sky. We are none of us good enough for the sweet earth we have, and yet we dream of heaven.

Edward Abbey (via oniverse)

(via infinity-imagined)

america-wakiewakie:

"We must rapidly begin the shift from a "thing-oriented" society to a "person-oriented" society. When machines and computers, profit motives and property rights are considered more important than people, the giant triplets of racism, materialism, and militarism are incapable of being conquered."

— Martin Luther King Jr.

atlasobscura:

Inuit Throat-Singing: A Gutteral Game Gets a Cultural Resurgence

“It’s a friendly competition between girls, something they would do while the men were out hunting,” said Kathy in at interview at the conference. Karin added: ”It’s part of Inuit culture. It’s an oral tradition, it’s something that can’t be written down, it has to be learned from someone else,.”

A “game” of throat-singing begins with two women facing each other, standing close and sometimes holding each other’s arms. One begins to sing, while the other follows. The game can last up to a few minutes, and ends when one loses her breath, laughs, or breaks concentration in any way. Some sources, such as Pulaarvik Kablu Friendership Centre, cite that it was once practiced with their lips practically touching, the women using their opponent’s mouth cavity as a sound resonator.

For more of the rich cultural history of Canada’s Inuit throat-singing, keep reading on Atlas Obscura…

for valdez.

(via patternsofbehavior)

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