I hear your concerns and they are important to me. I am going to escalate these concerns up the chain of command in order for them to fall on the appropriate deaf ears.
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.
Postcard #141: "Cold #10 (Final)"
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.
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..."
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
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.
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.
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.
Friday, October 7, 2016
Postcard #134: "Belarus Fact"
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.
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.
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.
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.”
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Saturday, September 3, 2016
Postcard #124: "Happy Postcrossing!"
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?