Sunday, November 6, 2016

Postcard #143: "The Hunt"


Sent via postcrossing to HDamato who actually lives on a Maple Street.  She did not seem very particular what sort of card she wanted.  My wife and I both liked this postcard for the dog on it.  I don't think I write postcards directly for people very often, but with the maple street address I could only think about Twilight Zone.

The Monsters are Due on Maple Street
The Hunt

I wonder if The Hunt would still be my favorite if I rewatched the series?  I suppose I have homework now.

Text:
"The Hunt"
My family especially my brother and I have lived lieves that have been shaped ever so slightly by repeated twilight zone marathons on the SciFi network. One of them, a classic, "The Monsters are Due on Maple Street" my brother assembled a lesson pan to explor its meanings and themes. - My favorite episode is "The Hunt".  A man wakes up next to a pond after jumping in to have his dog.  He slowly realizes he and his hound dog are dead and walking along a road for eternity.  I'd hate to ruin the episode in case you haven't seen it but it made me appreciate dogs a bit more.  It also made me think that both heaven and hell might be kinda creepy but the journey or walk to either of them might not be so long as I had a dog with me.  -T.M.

Postcard #142: "Earl Grey"


“Earl Grey” US-4302324

Flavor Text: A magnificent view of Portland, Oregon. Mount Hood is seen from Washington Park Rose Gardens. Photo: Ken Vermillion

I can’t drink Earl Grey tea. When I was younger I remember one evening watching TV with my cousin. I did not put it together why my grandmother put a large cake sized Tupperware next to him while he laid on the couch. “He did not feel good” I was told. My grandmother and aunt made him some toast (which always seemed to come out burned or so completely always desiccated as to be utterly unappetizing) and cup after cup of earl grey tea. Which he was encouraged to drink. When my cousin started vomiting, I remember watching him for a moment. The puke shot out from him like a geyser. Slowly he started to fill the Tupperware with a liquid that bore the same color, consistency, and smell of all those mugs of earl grey they were forcing in him. I silently walked to the kitchen and told my Aunt and Grandmother that Eric was throwing up. I had interrupted a quiet conversation they were having. “We know.” They both said softly. They did not get up. They did not say anything else. I immediately associated earl grey tea with something that makes people vomit…on purpose. To this day I can’t drink earl grey tea and every time Jean Luc Picard drank it I associated it with half-filled Tupperware of cloudy brown emesis. -TM

Transcribed by jjwood687 on Fiverr.

Sent via postcrossing to MicSeb who likes flowers, pictures from where I live, landscapes, and photography.  Boom.  This postcard is pretty nifty view.  I will actually have to try and visit this place. There is a part that makes me think I have already written this story.  Oh well.  I like this version.

Postcard #141: "Cold #10 (Final)"


Original Card:
Stamp: "Franklin" Green Scott #300.  United States Postage Stamp 1¢
Original Postmark: Douglass, Kansas. Mar 9 (?) 5 pm 1906 (assumed)
Addressed to: Miss Amy (?) Burk of St Johns ore

Message:
I am at town now. 
I got the postal card you sent me.  
good by [sic]
From
Gladys.
 
Sent via postcrossing to PackerBacker2.  This is my first direct swap.  Normally I don't think I would do this...but who knows maybe the direct swap thing is better.  People who are interesting in receiving interesting things rather than fulfilling a collection or getting peoples names or not appearing UNFRIENDLY.
So here is the finale of the Cold series.  I suppose I should type it all up so it is in one flowing story that could be read.  I don't think I will do that today.  I will come back to this entry and amend it with the completed written version of it.
Dat postcard tho. I found it at a recent estate sale.  So fucking haunting.  A beautiful degree of damage and weathering.  It's so perfect for the series.  I love it and I was so happy that I was able to put something great on it and send it on another trip.  The card is over 100 years old.  Which just blows my goddamned mind.

Yes, that is my address if you are reading and would like to send me something or start a correspondence.

Cold Series:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 8
Part 9

Postcard #140: "Cold #9"


Cold #9.            US-4308092

Flavor Text: INTERIOR VIEW CHAPEL OF THE TRANSFIGURATION

MOOSE, WYOMING

Worshipers in the Chapel of the Transfiguration have an inspiring view through a spacious plate glass window, framing lofty Grand Teton Peak which rises to an elevation of 13,766 feet.

The strength and pull of the river upon me was inexhaustible. I fought to reopen my swollen eyes the outstretched hand was still there waiting. I swung my hand around blindly hoping they would close the missing distance but instead I was drowning deep sputtering gulps of water that sought to occupy all the spaces within me. Cold, angry water that would rather be frozen. I bolstered myself on the cracking ice. I opened my eyes again hoping the hand was still there I pushed hard with all my strength, force, a power I knew to be any resources I had remaining if the hand was not there at its acme I knew I would be back in the river. My eyes opened at the crest of my push and there it was…the hand. Unwavering. I had to take it. I reached up and felt the backside of the crest. I was slipping back. I took the hand closing my fingers around the warmth. The hope. I exhaled and felt my body shift under the ice. I gazed at the person whose hand I possessed. It was her. I tried to pull my hand back but there was no longer any separation. We were one.

-TM

Transcribed by jjwood687 on Fiverr.


Sent via postcrossing to Nordbaer.  I will admit.  I have been delinquent.  Really delinquent.  I have been sitting on three postcards for about 2-3 weeks.  Which is wrong, especially to the people whose addresses I am supposed to send things.  This is a poor excuse but that previous person really took the wind out of my sails.  I really just ceased giving shits about postcrossing.  I really did not care about writing.  Sharing.  Anything.  I wish it translated to me not buying more postcards but it hasn't.  I have been making a killing at estate sales.  I have been doing so well that I think I can start going through and actually getting rid of cards that are doubles or cards that are sort of lame.

So I figured I would finish off my Cold series.  It has been sitting around for a long time.  I really wanted to finish it off on this last card but once again...it refused to fit comfortably.  So it requires another post.

Cold Series:
Part 1
Part 2
Part 8

Tuesday, October 18, 2016

Postcard #139: "Get a load of this guy..."




Text:
CHACO CULTURE National Historical Park
New Mexico
US-4283257
#19226 
This massive 5-story building is the center of a vast architectural complex which developed during the 9th through the 11th centuries in the four-corners region. Photographer-Russ Finley
NHS STAMP:
CHACO CULTURE NHS
JUL 26 2004
NAZEEZI, NM
I don't remember a whole lot of this road trip. I wonder if my dad or my sister do? I remember moments, like pictures in my mind But I've never really thought of myself as a photographic memory. I remember the drive to Chaco Culture. It was 20 or so miles of unpaved roads... I honestly thought the van we were in would fall apart. A lot of these sites in the middle of nowhere have been destroyed.  When cattle ranchers and travelers were moving west they would remove the wood from the support beams and rooves to these large structures to use for firewood. So all buildings /ruins have those large gaping holes where the beams once were...Then the elements sneak in.  And in time the ruins... become ruined. It eats away at you that when the people were building these ruins they never said "Someday years from now these will all be ruins."  Just like we do not say that about our cities and what we build.  
Favorite book: 
Voltaire's Candide

Sent to REDACTED via postcrossing.  So.  This gentleman from Germany wanted a postcard of a UNESCO World Heritage Site.  I suppose it is an interest that is close to him because he apparently lives in close proximity to one.  I went through some of the world heritage sites on the website and I learned that Chaco Canyon was listed.  I have had this postcard for 12 years.  This is one of MY postcards, from one of MY adventures.  I went on a cross country road trip with my father and my sister.   I got the card at the gift shop at Chaco Canyon and I got it stamped at the National Park Passport station while I was there.  This postcard represented the history of my trip and a memento of the trip.  I wrote about the trip there.  I wrote about how the Chaco Canyon location was falling apart.  I figured when I sent it..."Daaaaamn Tom.  You really knocked that one out of the park." I honestly thought he would make it one of his favorites or something.  That card has to be rare!  It was such a pain in the ass to get to...it is one of the least visited national parks for a reason.  This cat also wanted to know my favorite book...which I was happy to tell him.  

So he got the card...and replied back with this...
I was floored.  I read his short note (several times) and the first thing I thought was "Get a load of this guy..."  I REALLY want to think something was lost in translation.  Perhaps he did not mean for it to sound as rude as he did.  But then again, if he liked the card enough he could have just asked me for my name.  I think normally I would have eaten crow.  I would have apologized for somehow slighting or being unfriendly to this stranger.  Instead, I replied:



Sunday, October 16, 2016

Postcard #137: "Cold #8"


Flavor Text:

HORSETAIL FALLS, OREGON

A beautiful view of this 208 foot high falls on the Columbia River Highway – only minutes away from Portland on the New Freeway. ©1969 D.P.I. DT-58413-C

Cold #8

The water around me was eager to carry me to the falls. The tree trunk was turning steadily to its side. My anchor dropped out from under me. I leaped weakly from the trunk to the rock it was resting on. My hand darted about the stone for handholds on its smooth surface. The tree trunk was still sliding to the left and it pushed me back into the water. The water did not feel cold anymore. I felt an edge but before I could slow myself down it caught me in the neck. Ice. Ice still attached to the far shore. I pulled my arm above the cracking ice. The current pulled hard against me and my waterlogged clothes. I was too weak to pull myself out of the water. My vision was blurry. I squeezed them together. It took me a moment to realize the dark blur in front of me was my own arm fumbling around on the ice struggling to keep me above the water. I squeezed my eyes together and breathed deep and when I opened them, I could already see an outstretched hand. The shackles of the river had me by the ankles.

-TM     US-9295161

Transcribed by jjwood687 on Fiverr.

Sent via postcrossing to twindaddy.  He is someone who shares my first name, lives in the states, and doesn't care what sort of postcard he gets.   I had high hopes that I would get the rest of the story on a final card. Maybe it will be finished by Cold #9?

Cold Series:
Part 1
Part 2

Postcard #138: "Terminology"

Front:

GRANDMA’S

Unique Family Dining

Beaverton, Oregon

Flavor Text:

GRANDMAS’s Unique Family Dining US-4295160

Corner of Denney and Hail Blvd. 12255 S.W. Denney Road Beaverton, Oregon 97065

There is probably a word for it. Like the German word schádenfreude. Happiness at the misfortune of others…a specific word for a for a specific identifiable thing or act. My wife went for sushi at a place were the dishes ride on a moving track around the dining area. You grab what you want. We were having a great time and then an old grey haired retiree with recent wrist surgery sat upstream from us. She proceeded to eat and the “good” plates of sushi leaving us with the worst plates. She would stack them infront of herself creating a buffet for one. There has to be a word for an upstream eater who takes the best stuff leaving you with the crap. Asshole…perhaps the word is asshole.

Transcribed by jjwood687 on Fiverr.


Sent via postcrossing to sanoji.  Among many of the subjects she was looking for traditional dress and style.  I figured this would work.  If any one reading knows the answer to the topic I am all ears.

Postcard #136: "Talent Scout"


Original Card:
Stamp: "John Adams" Red United States Postage Stamp 2¢

Original Postmark: Burlington, VT. Aug 1 1952 PM
Addressed to: Miss Elizabeth Leeds of Elhurst, NJ
Message:
Faith had a baby girl after a hard time it was borne(sic) Thursday morning at eight oclock(sic) and we were all glad[.] Mother Kemyon is very sick, had two heart attacks and they don't know if she will pull out of it or not. Will write later Love Alice.

“Talent Scout”  US-4273718

Flavor Text:

Nickname---Green Mountain State

1940 Population---359,231

Area in Sq. Miles---9,564

Entered the Union. Mar.

I saw the man standing outside the employee entrance door through the security glass. He had a big grin on his face like he was about to sell me a car. I took a deep breath as I pushed the door open just enough to let myself outside. He stood there and the door closed behind me. “Hey, how are you doing?” he asked still smiling broadly.

“Good. Have a good night” I said as I moved past him briskly. He starts to follow me.

“Hey!” he calls out.

“Yeah?”

“Do you want to be [dramatic pause] a star?”

“Eh.” I said indifferently.

“I will make you a staaahh.”

“Oh?” I said feigning interest as I stepped backwards while looking at him.

“Nah. You don’t have what it takes to be a stah.”

“Aww.” I said crestfallen.

In a related note my place of employment has a psych unit.

Transcribed by jjwood687 on Fiverr.

Sent via postcrossing to Pei_Hsin.  Who wanted "greetings from..." cards.  I realized I have been sending a lot of these cards out incorrectly.  "Greetings from..." were listed in a lot of people's profiles but it wasn't until now that I realized that they are not asking for these they are asking for this kind.  Which I kinda feel are just dumb.

Saturday, October 8, 2016

Postcard #135: "Paint"



Flavor Text: In public, Dean’s own insecurity was submerged by his Brando-style machismo. His open shirt and arrogantly poised cigarette were a perfect fantasy for nonsmoking teenagers who still listened to their parents.

US-9266380

“Paint”

Michaelanne’s vision was going black. Her helmet was repeatedly depressurizing and repressurizing in an attempt to help oxygenate the dropping O2 levels in her blood. She was clawing at the Juggernauts forearm which was holding her up by her neck. She reached up at the underside of her shattered facemask. The tempered glass crunched within her gloves on the helmet detaching from her suite. She hurtled it at her assailant who dropped her to the floor. Gasping she reached around for a weapon only to find her recently discarded helmet. She slide backwards away from the man who was still holding his face. She backed up into a wall. There was a silence as the both stood there looking at one another. His jaw tightened and he hunched forward as he wiped blood from his eyes. She started pushing backwards again as she moved right along the wall and into a small vestibule. She looked up as she passed under something before she could register what it was her bulky Maglev book had kicked out one of its legs. The wooden leg of a ladder, which was so out of place for the arbormine space station. The ladder began to fall forward between her and her assailant. Objects began to fall off the top of top tier of the ladder. A bucket of blue paint fell into his arms and a moment later a bucket of white paint fell in her lap.

Sent via Postcrossing to Reby who wanted pictures of dogs.  But particular types of dogs so I did not want to "waste" one of my odd dog photos if she would not have liked it.  She did mention wanting images of movie stars.  Even mentioned James Dean by name.  I happened to have an oversized James Dean postcard so...boom.  The story is an excerpt of an excerpt.  I have all these pieces of stories everywhere.  Parts of nanowrimo stories I have long forgotten.  Is nanowrimo still a thing? I have less than a month to figure that out.  If I fit 250 words on a postcard...I would only have to write about 6-7 a day throughout the month of November in order to complete the 50,000 word requirement.

Friday, October 7, 2016

Postcard #134: "Belarus Fact"



Sent via Postcrossing to cosmogyral who wanted something hipster.  Whatever that means.  But she wanted to know something that I know about Belarus.  I mentioned a paper I did in Nursing school.  That even though Chernobyl was not in Belarus...it received some of the worst long term damage from the fallout of the nuclear disaster.  I actually got this card at the actual EBR site...I hope she appreciates this card as much as I appreciated the actual site.  

Text: 
For a nursing class on world health, I wrote a paper on the immediate and long term effects of Chernobyl's meltdown on Belarus.  
One fact I learned was that you could spend the day wandering around much of the site of Chernobyl and Pripyat and still be exposed to LESS radiation than you would be exposed to if you were performing one endovascular thoracic case using fluoroscopy.  
DAY < Case (1)

Postcard #133: "HRC"


Flavor Text:

Andre Kertesz. American, b. Hungary, 1894-1985

Du-Dubon-Dubonnet (On the Boulevards) Paris, 1934

Gelatin silver print, 13 5/8 x 9 7/8 in.

Norton Museum of Art

West Palm Beach, Florida                     US-4273775

So it looks like Hillary Clinton might be our next president. I cannot bring myself to support her (yet?). I really do not like the idea that I must vote for her because Trump is a worse candidate. I find Hillary morally as vile. I would vote no confidence in either. I was a registered Democrat for most of my life. Since I gained the right to vote. I changed parties to an independent because I do not what the DNC has become. Deceitful. Petty. I don’t think I will change my party to vote in any closed elections. Unless…a candidate really wows me. Hillary does not care about “doing the right thing.” She wants to do the popular thing. Sometimes the right thing and the popular thing coincide. Sometimes the popular thing only involves those around her not the majority of Americans or people. Sometimes she does things because she is worried about diminishing her popularity. I can’t say she is evil. Just calculating. Self evaluating constantly. I worry about trusting that. The DNC who I cannot trust is insisting that I trust her. And apparently I must trust her or else.

-T.M.

Transcribed by jjwood687 on Fiverr.

Sent via postcrossing to aleksiite.  She mentioned wanting black and white.  Let's see if this fulfills her wishes. I have been sitting on this postcard for awhile I've wanted to send it. But I really have not found an audience.  Now that Trump is really going viral with his latest fuckup in which he says that as a "Star" he can grab a woman in her "pussy"...I figured I should finish up my political postcard series for now.

Postcard # 132: "Marguerite"

Front:

Making a point to say hello

Back:

“Marguerite”

My grandmother on my mothers side was named Marguerite. I always knew her a Grandma Walsh or Florida Grandma (since she lived in Florida not New Jersey…though come to think of it I never called Grandma Minor, New Jersey Grandma)

At my grandmothers funeral the priest was doing his sermon/homily he kept calling her Margaret…which no one ever called her. No one ever corrected him. Perhaps she is still standing outside the pearly gates because her name was written incorrectly because of the bumbling priest.

Moral: only let those who know you, care about you…talk about you.

US-4273822

Transcribed by jjwood687 on Fiverr.

Sent via postcrossing to MargaritaAlekseevna who wanted a kids card, animals, or a kids hero card.  I can't think of anything more kid-like than these precious moments cards.  I have a whole book I snagged at a garage sale.  I sent this story to a mother who was collecting stories about her daughter's name "Marguerite" I really did not know what to write.  Well.  Let me rephrase that I knew something I could share.   I lamented about writing it for a few days honestly until I threw this story on the card. Finally.  After writing it...I felt badly.  Until my wife said, at 5 years old a child will not have the same existential crisis about death that you are having right now.  So I sent a story about my grandmother's funeral to this little girl.

Postcard #131: "MTG"




Last weekend my wife and I attended a sealed deck magic the gathering prerelease tournament for “Kaladesh” Series. Played till 05:30 AM but we only played 5 of the 6 rounds, since they cut the game short. I only lost one match…to the guy who won 1st place I ended up getting 8th. Using math I will never understand. My wife got 25th place. I got 4 booster packs she got 1 pack. Days later we both discovered we both won cold viruses, which I may have mailed to you.

 

Flavor Text:

PORTLAND, OREGON

Mount Hood and the heart of downtown Portland, Oregon are framed by the beauty of Washington Park’s International Rose Test Gardens.

-TM      www.minormumbles.com      no need to thank me.

Card:

Die Young

Sorcery

Choose target creature. You get (two energy counters), then you may pay any amount of (energy). The creature gets -1/-1 until end of turn for each (energy) paid this way

“When the time comes, let go. Nothing lasts forever.”

Transcribed by jjwood687 on Fiverr.

Sent via postcrossing to powertree. Who lastly mentioned that she would like scenic photos.  I found this one at a recent estate sale.  I sent her a card I used that night I played at the tournament which seemed most appropriate.  I deserved the cold...that's what I get for shaking peoples hands after playing.  I should have elbow bumped them...or brought handsanitizer.  

Postcard #130: "Pokemon Go"


Sent via postcrossing to ReaderChris who wanted a postcard of a Jackalope from a state other than AZ or CO.  Boom.  I can totally do that. ReaderChris also has a postcarding blog too.

Text:
I had to uninstall PokemonGo on my phone.  I was convinced I would kill myself or someone...with my car.  I noticed I was playing at red lights...then playing in stalled traffic.  But it wasn't until I asked myself while driving across a bridge..."I wonder if there are any water pokemon here?" I did not check. Because I imagined myself driving off the bridge.  Of course, I would not die...but I would have to explain how it happened.  I deleted the game when I got home.  -TM

Saturday, October 1, 2016

Postcard #129: "TMBNE"






Postcard #129: “TMBNE”

Flavor Text:

MOON BRIDGE – JAPANESE GARDENS

Portland, Oregon

Maintained by the Japanese Garden Society of Oregon, the garden is resplendent in imported authentic Japanese artifacts. All of the shrubs, plants, and trees seen here are also native to Japan. A garden of serene beauty situated in the West Hills of Portland.

Tickets:

09:28A

Sep 08 2016

A

Adult 2.5 Hours

1 found $2.50 09/08/16

Merch: 174037600999

2562 Auth. 51174

PORTLAND, OR

Monmouth Mall #2234

DARK KNIGHT RISES

2:15pm Mon 7/30/2012

AD2MAT $9.00

Tax $0.59

2           PG13

0           0089265101530003

STATION: 0087/30/2012  1:47pm

Back:

“TMBNE”

US-4242295

Back when I was more single and more regularly depressed, I bought two tickets to see “They Might Be Giants” play a New Years' eve show in Brooklyn. I bought the tickets months in advance with the idea it would give me the courage to ask someone out to use the other ticket. I asked someone they said they were busy…and that was depressing enough not to bother trying to ask other people. I decided to go to the show…maybe I will meet someone on the way. Someone outside the show. We will get to talking. Hit it off…kismet! And we have a cute story to tell our friends about how we met. I met no one. I handed my extra ticket to the bouncer and said let someone in for free. I enjoyed the show but it was sad. No one to share the music with. I awkwardly stood there while people kissed at midnight. I gladly left at the end of the show. I could still make it out of the city if I hurried. On the subway train home when the train reached the tunnel going under the east river the conductor really pushed down the throttle we bounced and rocked violently all the way for a few miles. People on the train struggled to stay in their seats. By the time the train stopped the car was full of vomit and smelled of future New Year’s resolutions.

(cut here)         -TM

 

I don’t know where all my movie ticket stubs are packed. We recently moved. This is the one I just happened to find in my desk. Here is a train pass from Portland’s ticket system. $2.50 can get you anywhere. Feel free to rip this off and reuse the card. Let me know if you do.

Transcribed by jjwood687 on Fiverr.

Sent via Postcrossing to DorisRen.  She had an interesting request that she get a train ticket and a movie ticket from my country.  So, that pretty much guided the whole exchange.  I found an old ticket from each and created a pocket on the card.  International postage stamps are pretty much all the same...postcard or letter.  God bless America.  I originally wrote two stories.  But the first one was really sexual and I did not glean anything from her profile to make me think she would be amused by getting a raunchy story from me.  So the story goes in the notebook for later use.
I sort of wish I sent her a different movie ticket.  I have a bunch of them packed away somewhere but this was the only one I could find.  I have movie tickets going all the way back to high school.  Which sort of blows my mind just typing that.

Friday, September 30, 2016

Postcard #128: "Dubs"


Postcard #128: “Dubs”

“Dubs”

Flavor Text: 

1486 COSTA DEL SOL – TORREMOLINOS

Plaza Costa del Sol

Costa del Sol Square

Place Costa del Sol

Costa del Sol Platz

At 8yrs old I had but only a finite grasp of money. I understood coins were less than paper and the paper was something I could use to get things. And I could get the paper by doing chores. To further complicate this I did not understand (and in many ways, I still do not) the subtle differences between wants versus needs. Nowhere else was this concept more hard-pressed than while standing before the magical sliding glass window of the ice cream truck that would visit the park my friends and I played. Faced with the dilemma of needing both toys and tasty treats my friend and I devised a plan to get more of this special paper. We scanned and printed one side of a $20 bill. Arguably the side with the portrait of Andrew Jackson was the most important side. My friend and I were not greedy. We each ordered one slushy. Large. When we handed him our money there was a moment I wondered why we did not do this sooner? It was easier than mowing the lawns. But during this moment the ice cream man felt the “money,” looked at it and flipped it over then flipped out at us. I did not understand why or what counterfeit was or what felony was…He tore it up and threw it out the window. No slushies. I ran home crying. Money still does this to me.

-TM

Transcribed by jjwood687 on Fiverr.

Sent via postcrossing to RailiH.  Not much to say...except I have never in my life scanned and printed money.  Ever.  I found this near the park and I came up with a story.  At least, that is what I am going to tell the police when I am arrested.

Postcard #127: "Word": Neil DeGrasse Tyson


Flavor Text:

This view shows the powerful Saturn S-1 rocket on its pad prior to launch. This version stands 125 feet high and has a diameter of 21.6 feet. Advanced version will reach a height of 275 feet and a diameter of 33 feet. The latter will be used in the Apollo Moon Project.

“Word” US-4229323

I went with my wife to see/hear a lecture given by Neil DeGrasse Tyson. The lecture was called “An Astrophysicist goes to the Movies.” It was entertaining and interesting. In the past few weeks I had been listening to his audiobooks during my commutes to and from work. Over the course of these books I began to wonder what his favorite word was? Would it be a whimsical word like oodles? Zoom? A scientific or clinical or academic word like quasar? Fractal? Quark? Or a common word? I read that his favorite question is “Why?” and his favorite statement is I don’t know. So when I was backstage for the meet and greet I asked him what is your favorite word? He thought for a minute and said, “curiosity.”

-TM

Color Photo Courtesy of Space

Transcribed by jjwood687 on Fiverr.

Sent via postcrossing to berri.  So yeah.

True story, on 9/20 we went to go see Neil Degrasse Tyson speak.  What a brilliant and incredibly nice gentleman.  In the meet and greet afterward he spoke to EVERYONE who came backstage. Answered questions. When my wife gave him one of his flowers he thanked her for it.  I would gladly attend another lecture.  Plus...and honestly, most importantly Sam really enjoyed herself.

Saturday, September 10, 2016

Postcard #126: "Dick Water"


Flavor text:

“Dick Water”   US-4229318

NORTH CAROLINA

“Tar Heel State, Old North State”

CAPITAL Raleigh. AREA: 52,712 sw. mi. MOTTO: Esse Quam Videri, To Be Rather Than To Seem. FLOWER: Dogwood. BIRD: Cardinal. 12th of the Original 13 States.

If I had not been polite and held the door for him I would not have been left with the urinal inches from the floor. “Low profile” it's probably called. When I turn to examine my stall attendants someone subconsciously cleared their throat in one stall. The other stall was filled to its rim with toilet paper and brown water. There is a moment I wondered if I urinated in it if it would overflow onto my feet. I accept the low loo. The moment my piss hits the urinal cake the guy next to me finishes. I should have just waited or would that have been creepy? My piss is falling what feels like 4 feet before it hits. It reads: “pee screen” I wonder if I could ever resist reading what is written on a urinal cake/screen. I can hear water running behind me but NO soap dispenser. I finish and button-up. He is weakly shaking off his hands and proceeds to grab the door handle and pull open the door, he leaves. Should he have even washed? I wash my hands with soap. Then I stand in front of the door unable to open it, though unlocked. A handle dripping with “dick water.”

-T.M.

Transcribed by jjwood687 on Fiverr.

Sent via postcrossing to Ich_bin_Berliner who had SO MANY FUCKING RULES TO WHAT I COULD SEND HIM it's amazing I could send him anything at all.  After reading his profile and all his demands I actually revisited my own profile to edit it and make mine less demanding.  Maybe something was lost in translation.  Perhaps its not that demanding.  Maybe when I reach a point when my postcards sent are in the thousands I might feel entitled to make some demands on those sending me cards.  I am sure its a lot of work. I don't even know what I would do with 5700 postcards.  Hats off to that guy I guess.  But if I have become that bored with what I get from the site...why bother at all?  I don't know maybe when I mail and receive nearly 6000 cards I will have a better understanding.  A state of postcard nirvana that brings no peace...?

Friday, September 9, 2016

Postcard #125: "Dark Side of the Room"


“Dark Side of the Room”

The show finished but the lights barely came up in the room. A man shuffled past my wife and I and into the booth we were just sitting. He seemed lost, he held the back of a bench as he prepared to climb on the seat. “Hey man, can I give you a hand?” I asked “It’s so dark. I can’t see.” He persisted to hoist himself up onto the bench. Now he is towering over me. “Hey, let me help you down from there. Maybe we can walk out together?” I held out my hand but he did not take it. I took him by the elbow and eased him down. I put one arm around his waist and walked him towards the exit. He lamented about how he can’t see in the dark. His gait was a shuffle. Our passive exchange about how getting older wasn’t fun carried us to the entrance. Once outside I watched him wander off without saying good-bye but still talking aloud. I was not worried if he’d find his way home. However, I was curious when he retells the story about what he did over the weekend did he go and “see a band” or “hear them play?”

-TM

FLAVOR TEXT:

Vista House dedicated May 5, 1918

Friends of Vista House, established in 1982

in partnership with Oregon Parks & Recreation

PO Box 204 Corbett, OR 97019 | 503-695-2240

www.vistahouse.com | friends@vistahouse.com

US-4195004

Transcribed by jjwood687 on Fiverr.

 

Sent via postcrossing to buzzeffect who liked getting "Greetings from..." cards.  I had a few of them.  I think this is the last of the cards I purchased during my waterfall revelations earlier this year.  This story on the back is true.  My wife and I went to go and see Pigs on the Wing the pacific northwests premier Pink Floyd cover band.  I had a very nice time.

Saturday, September 3, 2016

Postcard #124: "Happy Postcrossing!"






ORIGINAL CARD:
HAPPY POSTCROSSING! 
<3
-Yanelis

New Card:
Grand Circle
#19224 Petrified Forest National Park
Light revels gold, red and other hues on these logs at Petrified Forest National Park


I really dislike this card. I am sending it to you to give it a second chance at life. Like rescuing a dog scheduled for euthanasia at an animal shelter. Happy Postcrossing "Heart" name This is the single most worst card I've received. Worse than not even sending a card. It's a waste of their time. My time. The postal service. Postcrossing. It's shit. The best explanation I have is that they do not speak any languages.
They are practicing writing Happy Postcrossing or someone wants to send out as many postcards as possible so they can receive as many postcards as possible.  . Maybe they are traveling through the postcards they receive. I don't know.  I am sure they are not bad people just infinitely boring or selfish. My reasons for writing are not free from selfishness. I just want people to dig a little deeper. I've only gotten Happy Postcrossing from Americans. Maybe they think they are being ironic? It might be if they weren't preceded by a half dozen other people thinking THEY were being ironic.  You can literally say ANYTHING under some degree of anonymity.  Call me an asshole.  Tell me what you thought about in traffic or on the toilet today.  The last song you got stuck in your head.  Your favorite meal. Your favorite book, movie, word (mine is vehicular) You can even tell me in your native tongue or broken English.  I don't care.  I want depth. Connection beyond "Happy Postcrossing!" Because... is it? Is it happy? It's nothing without the people sending it. They are junk mailers. Advertisements for tourism. Anyway HAPPY POSTCROSSING!

-TM.
Printed in Korea. Purchased in Arizona.
Moved to Florida, Mailed to Oregon. Mailed
to you in the Czech Republic.

I realize that some people might need this translated.  And I think this might actually be the first time I have ever posted someone else's postcard on my blog.  I feel...an example must be made.  

Sent via Postcrossing to Danusse.  She did not have a whole lot of requests.  She did mention she wanted a card with Johnny Depp.  I don't have any of those.  I don't think I have any pirate ship ones.  All my Disney ones are before Disney made the films...though if I ever find a Pirates of the Caribbean amusement park ride postcard (which would be friggen awesome) I will be sure to link her to the image.
I was a pretty big asshole here.  I think it is supposed to be uncouth or rude to resend people's cards.  I think the worry is that it would be insulting to the person sending it.  That they took the time to send me something and I sort of sully it by sending it back out.  But in a world in which ad-cards exist and "fake" vintage cards, I allowed myself this breach of etiquette.  I also allowed myself the hubris to believe that improved the card.  This card was granted multiple lives!  How many reincarnations before it finds enlightenment?