Sunday, March 27, 2016

Postcard #88: Arrogance #2

Postcard #88: Arrogance #2

Front:

Greetings from COLUMBIA RIVER HIGHWAY

Back:

On a whim and a day off I drove to historic Highway 30. I don’t think I’ve ever been so overwhelmed by natural beauty. I was looking for distraction and I found a strange sort of clarity. It’s pointless to describe what I saw. I think this sort of clarity is different for everyone. Like how people find comfort at the beach or the beauty in a bustle of a city. I realized first and foremost how New Jersey is not for me. It’s soul sucking. Then aware of self-doubt and introspection washed over me of which I was ill prepared. I was no better than anyone else. No better than a prisoner, surviving within walls repeating the same steps. Same motions. I arrogantly thought my life was better than others. Like time, it was relative. I felt like I had to apologize for my own thoughts. How long before I apologize for this one? Like a snake eating its own tail.

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

www.minormumbles.com          US-3929986

Transcribed by jjwood687 on Fiverr.

Sent via Postcrossing to RedSky

Postcard #87: Crank

Postcard #87: Crank

Front:

Montanejos

Back:

Montanejos       03/15/16

Campana de Maimona

In 8-9th grade I had a job working for my godfather. I would ride my bike to and from work everyday through the parking lot of my old high school. My diagonal shortcut required me to…recklessly cut through numerous parking curbs in the lot. One evening I caught my back wheel on one of these curbs and flew over my handlebars. I landed on my forearm. I rode home…one-handed. I could move my arm, but it hurt. To stave off a visit from social services my father and I decided to get an x-ray. At Mercy hospital ER…I was triaged and told to wait. Presumably, the back of the line…Only in Miami would the emergency room waiting room have a patio area for smokers. Eventually, a woman poked her head on the patio. “Jack Meehoff?” She asked with a Cuban accent. My father and I looked quizzically. “Jack?” She asked again. We needed her to say the whole name. “Jack? Jack Meehoff?” my father and I shook our heads, stifling our laughter until she disappeared back inside the whole patio laughed. I wonder if she ever found him or what the reason was for his visit.

*Should be read “needlessly”

V-309-07 (Registrado en la propiedad intellectual)

Transcribed by jjwood687 on Fiverr.

 

Sent to Tina Jiva.

Postcard #86: Arrogance #1

Postcard #86: Arrogance #1

Front:

Stupid 1

Back:

The Museum of Modern Art

11 West 53 Street, New York, NY 10019

www.moma.org

The sign read, “Prison Area Do NOT Pick up Hitchhikers.” A compound surrounded by high fences and barbed wire with guard towers emerged within a tiny town, a smattering of ranch-style houses. Open fields lightly dusted by frost and snow from the night before. I said aloud to my wife who was driving. “This person is like a Walmart. A bane and godsend cut from the same cloth. I bet this prison supplies jobs to most of this area.” She glanced up from the wheel. “Yeah probably.” She brought her eyes back to the road making a slight correction to the wheel I began to think how blurred the line may become working there. A prison job. Spending a significant portion locked somewhere. Waiting day-in, day-out for a vacation. Life snowbound in a tiny prison town. Who was imprisoned? How far apart are the walls?

TM        3/27/16              US-3921434

Heinrich Hoerle. German, 1895-1936. Cover of the journal Stupid,no. 1, unique issue, catalogue for the exhibition Dada-Split [Dada-Abspalting]; Angelika and Heinrich Hoerle and Franz-Wilhelm Seiwert, editors; Stupid Verlag, November 1920. Letterpress, 11 3/16 x 8 3/4” (28.4 x 22.3 cm). Elaine Lustig Cohen Dada Collection, The New York Public Library, Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations. © 2006 Artist Rights Society (ARS), New York / VG Bild-Kunst, Bonn. 59512

Postcard ©2006 The Museum of Modern Art, New York. Printed in the USA

Transcribed by jjwood687 on Fiverr.

Sent via postcrossing MarieJR

Saturday, March 19, 2016

Postcard #85: Flute - 9




As a side note I don't think I have ever used so much white out on a postcard before.  I just kept making mistakes.  Maybe I am over tired?

Postcard #85: Flute – 9

“Flute. – 9”        US-3913784

I don’t know why my parents asked. I don’t know why they agreed to get me a flute. They wanted me to “take up” an instrument. I named it the first one that came to my head. Mr. Weisser, my music teacher told me I needed to practice more. I think I practice best at home when my parents don’t want me to practice. My mother has some job when she listens to stuff on her headphones and types and talks to herself. In Spanish usually. This is the best time to practice. Sometimes I would just repeat certain bars or certain notes. Over and over. I would have to fight a smile when she would ask me if I wanted to practice outside. I told her, “I practice inside gooder.” “Better.” She corrected. I know the right way but I know she likes to correct me. A few minutes later my father would come by and order me outside. So, I did. I walk down to the waterfront park. Past the kids from school who never invite me to go play football. I kept walking until I reached a canal that led to the ocean. It was deep. My father would kill me if I ruined my shoes in the canal. So I kept walking until I found an old bridge. My mother would kill me if she found out that I crossed that old broken bridge. From here I could see it. Down the pier I could see the town lighthouse. I knew deep down that would be the perfect place to practice. The sea was splashing against the face of the jetty…the lighthouse stuck out of the ocean and the stones like a huge flute clenched in a giant fist of rock.

From Vader’s Little Princess by Jeffrey Brown, Publishing by Chronicle Books LLC. Copyright ©2014 by Lucas films LTD & ® or TM where indicated. All rights reserved. Used under authorization.

Transcribed by jjwood687 on Fiverr.

Sent via postcrossing to Pinsi
So I rolled a 9.  But I noticed the there was a grouping of dice right around that compass rose die.

So there you have it.  Nine dice not including the compass rose die.  It is like there is an unseen force guiding me to write a shitty story.  As a side note and for the record I know that one is a rainbow on the left side.  But if you look at it the cloud looks like someone standing next to river or something.  If I don't start brainstorming alternatives to each die these stories could get repetitive really fast.

Friday, March 18, 2016

Postcard #84: Jill


Postcard #84: Jill

Front:

Bonus Photo exclusive with APEX Photo Service

Process and apparatus patented Addt’l U.S. and foreign pats. Pend. For your wallet.

Back:

To be completely honest, sometimes Jill my best friend, really bothered me. Everyone seemed to like her. Girls. Boys. Grownups. Teachers. Good grades seemed to come easy. I should have been grateful for a friend like her to consider me her best friend as well. One who has nearly been friends since the bassinet. You know we were born a week apart? The same hospital no less! I’ve always been an only child. She has been like a sister. I like to think these feelings, although they are negative, are normal like sibling fighting. I wish I could say, “I can’t imagine my life without her.” Because I can and it leaves me feeling horrible and empty. Like those times hearing the sermon at church…questioning if God is really up there. I really do miss Jill. Not just the big events…like how she was there for me during my breakup with Steve. Or the time we broke into the school and TP’d the auditorium. But the little things like when we went to Andres for my favorite chocolate ~ 50 miles away. I still think those glasses don’t match with that outfit.

US-3913651       www.minormumbles.com              03/18/16

 

Transcribed by jjwood687 on Fiverr.

Sent Via postcrossing: Tilly30318

Postcard #83: Fasting

Sent via postcrossing: hhayleytan

Background:
So.  I bought some story cubes to add a new level of difficulty to postcard writing.  Thing was I had a whole boat load of them.  So I picked up a 20 sided die at Red Castle Games near me and invented a new game.  Roll all the dice.  But what ever the 20 sided dice reads is how many story dice cubes I have to incorporate.  This is LITERALLY the first roll I ever did.

Postcard #83: Fasting

Front:

CADILLAC RANCH

Back:

03/18/16           T.M.      US-3906519

CADILLAC RANCH

10 Cadillacs planted in a wheat field nose first with their tops facing West. This can be seen off U.S. Hwy. 66 west of Amarillo, Texas. Each car represents the change in tail fin styles for the Cadillac from 1949-1963

The door of the Middletown Diner jingled and I looked up from my postcard. Andrew was coming back inside. He walked over and threw his jacket on the inside of the booth “That was fast.” I said looking up. “Yeah. I only had half of it. Felt bad. You aren’t eating I might as well keep you company.” The waitress walked over. Her pad already out. Drew was placing his half cigarette on a folded napkin. She turned to him first. “What can I get you, hun?” A common greeting in New Jersey. “Uh, cheese fries and a coffee.” She scribbled something in waitress in her pad. She was middle aged. Greying hair at the roots. “How about you?” “Nothing.” “Nothing?” She repeated back. “I am fasting for Lent.” I heard how stupid sounded. Like a vegan dying for attention. She turned to Drew and said, “You must be the Jew.” We were aghast which she interpreted as not understanding her joke. She continued…”Your cigarette. You only smoked half.” “Oh.” We said. “I’ll be back with your order.”

©Bob Petley Photo 921045

Petley Greetings Inc., 6608 2nd St. NW, Albuquerque, NM 87107

 A one.  So I stared at the dice.  Which ONE die?  It was almost even harder than I imagined.  Each die spawned its own story. I almost regret moving them into that straight line because I wish I could have seen what that arrow was pointing at when it landed.  It's like consulting bones or reading tea leaves.  I  remember when I saw the magic wand I first thought it was a cigarette.  Cigarette stories...do I have any stories involving cigarettes?  And that spawned the above story I wrote.  A true story I might add.  I was fasting, hanging out at jersey diner with a good friend of mine.  And the woman let her guard down and casually admitted she might have been a closet racist.  It also helped that this Haley Tan person who will hopefully be receiving the card asked for local favorite foods...a greeting in my native language...and a suggestion where she should go if she ever visited.  Anyone visiting NJ...should probably find a hole in the wall NJ diner and have a cup of coffee.  

Postcard: #82 Widow for a Postcard

Postcard: #82 Widow for a Postcard

Front:

“Irving’s most entertaining and persuasive novel since his 1978 bestseller, The World According to Garp. – The New York Times

A Window for One Year

Back:

A friend of mine told me that One of the Worst things people Can do to BOOKS was write in them. To Underline SCrawling in the MarginS. writing in books Destroys them. I could think of loads of worse things for instance asking what their favorite BOOK is. Then looking through several used bookstores until YOU find it one rainy afternoon in Washington then cutting The book into ribbons in order to cannibalize someone’s (mediocre) novel to make my pretentious Bullshit postcard arT nonsense

The FUCKING hubris…

Transcribed by jjwood687 on Fiverr.

Sent to a friend of mine: Madlen B.

Saturday, March 12, 2016

Post : Organizing

Believe it or not there is an organization to that.  Somewhat.
Got a request for a postcard this week.  If you are interested in getting one leave a message and I will get back to you.

Postcard #81: Hands




Postcard #81: Hands

“Hands”              US-3901199

As a gift at the company holiday party Mr. McGrath hired a photographer to take portraits. I was reluctant. I was unhappy. But he insisted – and I had never gotten my portrait done before. It was two days before Christmas when the photographers were finished and delivered to the factory. Connie, Mr. McGrath’s secretary arranged them in the lunchroom on a long table. So everyone can see everyone’s portraits during their lunch break. I nervously took my lunch early. I was just as unhappy seeing the photo as I was when it was taken. While I remember wearing a warm dark red coat that night it looked like I was wearing all black. Coupled with my expression I looked like I was mourning. The photographer had me rest my head on one of our wood chairs to ease the tremors in my hands. My fingers appeared swollen and arthritic from years of sewing embroidery into Mr. McGrath’s chairs – just like the one in the picture. I looked sad. I was sad. I stole the picture. Connie caught me. She gave me an understanding smile as I tucked it in my coat. I wish she stopped me instead of confirming my suspicions.

 

Transcribed by jjwood687 on Fiverr.


Postcard #80: Raccoons



Postcard #80: Raccoons

Front:

(Procyon Lotor)

RACCOONS

Back:

“Raccoons”        US-3901014              www.minormumbles.com

RACCOONS (Procyon lotor)

I turned to my wife for answers. She had none. “They are destroying everything, right?” I asked rhetorically as the fatter raccoon pulled a bag of raisins from the lazy Susan cabinet and looked back at us. “Yes, but…” -> “They are intruders…” -> “Yeah…” She said waiting for me to interrupt again. “…in our house”…”Yeah…” She took another photo with her phone. She waited for the one on the counter to look up at us before taking another picture. “What’s to stop me from killing them?” I said feeling the rage swelling in my tense jaw. -> “Well. Me, for one.” -> “No, seriously Sam. What is to stop me from going out to the shed and getting something sharp or heavy and just getting rid of them for good?” -> “They are animals. They don’t know any better. You do.” I’ve been with Sam long enough that she knew I would hate this reason. But it would not be a good enough reason to keep me from using the expensive knives I got her for X-mas. The knives in the block that the smaller raccoon was now using to boost itself into the above cabinets. The big clawed raccoon above was now spilling Sam’s kasha cereal below. The small one lost its balance trying to reach for it. “You are going to make a mess, TOM. You will end up doing more damage to the kitchen or yourself.” She was right. She did have the answer. I should have listened.

Transcribed by jjwood687 on Fiverr.


Friday, March 11, 2016

Postcard #79: Dreams #1


Postcard #79: Dreams #1

“Dreams”

C: “Hello Sir. Totally random but last night I dreamt you and I went hiking up the mountains and you fell off the cliff…I saw you’re out in PDX. I don’t know if you hike at all but I felt like I had to tell you to be careful.

T: “Well. Last night I had a dream that somehow I smeared a patient’s shit on my face and not realized it and people kept telling me I had shit on my face. I would go wash my face and then someone else would tell me that I still had shit on my face. Despite washing my hands I would look down at my hands and I could see that they were visibly soiled…poop smeared all over my palms.

US-3890144       T.M.      3/11/2016

Christian Rohlfs. Eilas (Elijah), 1921. Oil on canvas. 40 3/8 v 31 ½ in (102.5 x 80 cm). The Robert Gore Rifkind Collection. Beverly Hills, California. Postcard design copyright © 1991 by Museum Associates, Los Angeles County Museum of Art. All rights reserved.

“DEGENERATE ART” THE FATE OF THE AVANT-GARDE IN NAZI GERMANY

This exhibit was organized by the Los Angeles County Museum of Art and funded in part by grants from the National Endowment for the Humanities and the National Endowment for the Arts. It received additional assistance from the Federal Republic of Germany and an indemnity from the Federal Council on the Arts and the Humanities. Lufthansa German Airlines provided major support for the transportation of the exhibits.

P.R. China


Saturday, March 5, 2016

Postcard #78: Dadtime Stories #1




Postcard #77: Timeout.

Sent Via postcrossing Rainajung

Postcard #76: Cold #5


Sent via postcrossing to spanky59.

Cold Series:
Part 1
Part 2

Postcard #75: Train



Sent via postcrossing: Peter48

Postcard #74: Force = Mass x Acceleration


Sent Via postcrossing to Nikuuusha

Postcard #73: Number 2 times X

Sent to MMC.  Photo/postcard credit: Http://www.heatherdaltonphography.com

Postcard #72: Belated National Dog Day


Sent via Postcrossing to JoanneTai.

Postcard # 71: Analog


Original Card:
Stamp: "In God we Trust" Liberty Stamp 3¢

Original Postmark: Yellowstone Park, WYO Jun 23, 1960
Addressed to: Mrs. Jean Schmidt of Upper Montclair, NJ
Message:
6/22/60
Just to let you know our vacation is wonderful,
and wish you could enjoy it too.  The children are
having the time of their lives especially with the
bears.
Grace Beneke
Sent via postcrossing to Samuslove6