Any Colour You Like

Posted in Daily Pictures on May 18, 2016 by Verge

“I have a powerful urge to communicate with you, but I find the distance between us insurmountable.”

Throwback to 1994

Posted in Daily Pictures on March 21, 2016 by Verge

image

Just opened an old journal for the hell of it.

Just a Saturday

Posted in Daily Pictures on January 31, 2016 by Verge

 

 

M.M.

Posted in Daily Pictures on December 18, 2015 by Verge

She asked me to tell her three interesting things about myself.

Those were her first words to me, which were

half true interest and half protection of her friend.

I told her I killed a man, to shut her up, but she held on.

This week, we folded up her couch and disposed of it.

The bed she had built in her room could no longer be removed.

We had to dismantle it to get it out

of her apartment and New Jersey.

The rest of it went in bags and memories and were left unlabeled

perhaps never to be found again.

She said, in my arms, “it was nice knowing you.”

I hesitated, and replied simply, “you too.”

Lunar Eclipse 09-27-2015

Posted in Daily Pictures on September 29, 2015 by Verge

I was led to believe, not by forecast but with my eyes alone, that we wouldn’t see the blood moon full eclipse, and had written it off while I watched a glowing box inside my house instead of waiting for a light to go red and dark in my backyard.

But, halfway through the event outside, we discovered that the view wasn’t a total loss, and after a few minutes of eye adjustment and awe, I decided to find my camera, my tripod, and instead of using my cel phone to take pictures, took these instead.

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Death Cab For Cutie Philadelphia 09-06-2015 TLA

Posted in Concerts on September 7, 2015 by Verge

So Monika’s birthday crept up on me as Summer wound down, and the issue of a great gift to give her this year snuck up on me, I will admit.  I really have a wonderfully tragic way of ignoring perfectly reasonably signs and signals of what she would like, and end up honestly having no idea what she would like or what she wants.  Everything I know she could use, seems like a shallow birthday present from a husband who should have some kind of a clue and some kind of romantic inkling of what the woman he sleeps next to every night might cherish.   New running shoes.  Nope.  A case of Champagne.  Too thoughtless.  Tickets to a concert I want to see with her.  Too selfish.

But hey, sometimes it works out.  After the Made In America festival this weekend in Philly, Death Cab for Cutie decided to wrap the weekend up by playing a solo show at the TLA on South Street, which only holds 810 people at capacity, and is by far the smallest show we could ever see them play.  Throw in the fact that they were the band that we chose to walk down the aisle to and also have our first dance to on our wedding day, and I was sold.  So I scored us some tickets, which wasn’t the easiest or cheapest thing to do, and took Monika for her birthday show last night.

Here are some pics.  I didn’t take a lot.  I’ve dialed back how many I take at shows because it can be obnoxious.  And I only took a few videos, even though I whispered to her that I wouldn’t.  The first is the song that I fell in love with and originally hooked me on DCFC.  The second is the song that our friends played live as Monika walked to be wedded.  The third– our first married dance.

Shopping at the V Store

Posted in Creative Writing on September 5, 2015 by Verge

Guy:  Good Morning Sir, how are you today?

Me:  Thanks!  I’m well.  It’s my day off, got a little bit of a buzz going on.  How bout yourself?

Guy:  Well, I’m here.  I guess it’s not too bad.  I hold open doors for people I generally hate, but hey, it pays the bills.  And they make me hold this silly tablet and pretend we’re in the future.  But all in all, I guess it’s pretty dope.  Beats being a greeter over at Ruby Tuesdays.  They’re miserable inside, and their workplace smells like shit.

Me:  Okay, well that’s enough small talk.  I think I was pleasant enough to you, but now I want to talk to Hot Chick.  She helped me last weekend and was really, really good at pretending to be just a bit into me.  She’s got a great smile, and she actually knows what the fuck she’s talking about, which is arguably much hotter than her ass.

Guy:  Dude, I feel ya, bro.  No problem.  Let me see if she’s busy.  

Ah, shit.  She’s a little held up with this bitch who keeps coming in.  Man, I don’t know how Hot Chick keeps her smile on.  This rich cunt gives her hell every few days because she’s too fucking dumb to use a smart phone.  But, it looks like she might be almost finished…give it a few, Bro.

Me:  Got it.  I’ll walk over here for a few minutes and act mildly interested in devices that are far inferior to the one I bought last weekend from Hot Chick.

Guy:  Cool, man.  I’ll just stand here and act like it’s not awkward that I’m the only black person on the staff, and the job they chose for me today is to open the door for rich, white housewives and people who generally make way more money than me.


Guy:  Hey, Hot Chick.  This creeper over here found an excuse to come back to the store and specifically talk to you, and only you.  You down with that, or should I just tell him it’s your lunch break now, and he’ll have to deal with Ugly & Fat Girl?

Hot Chick:  Nah, it’s cool.  He’s not too weird.  And he’s kind of funny.  I’ll roll with it.  

Hot Chick:  Heeeeyyy!  What’s up.  Welcome Back!   So, I see you’re not with your wife today.  That’s cool.  Please don’t hit on me.  That happens all the time, and I really will find it unpleasant, and my shift just started, so don’t make it shitty already.

Me:  Hey, no worries.  I’m going to flirt with you a little, but I do that with all women.  Even the ugly ones.  I actually have some business to take care of, also.

Hot Chick:  Great.  But just so we’re on the same page, I’m not going to fuck you.

Me:  Yes, I know that.  Plus, you’re not THAT hot, but do me a favor and pretend like it MIGHT happen.  It’ll make this whole thing much easier for the both of us.  I’ll smile more.  And, for the record since we’re being up front, I again have a slight buzz on, so forgive me if I miss a few things.

Hot Chick:  Oh, I know.  I can smell the booze on you, and it’s only 2 in the afternoon.  Actually, I’m a little jealous.

Me:  Okay, so I’ve got a few things going on.  First, the easy stuff.  Here’s some things you sold me last weekend that I didn’t need, but did actually want, and only bought because you suggested them to me and you’re hot.  Honestly, I used to be a sales manager, and you’re technique was flawless.

Hot chick:  Yeah (laughs), that was pretty good.  I sized that shit up in a second.  When someone buys a $750 phone because theirs is broken, and they’re obviously buzzed, you can practically throw any shit at them and they’ll buy it!  And with your wife there telling you to go ahead and “treat yo’self,”… it really was a no-brainer.  I almost tried to throw in a fucking tablet!

Me:  Yeah, but you knew I wouldn’t go for that.  I’ mean, shit.  The phone I bought was better than any tablet in here anyway.  So, yeah, let me just return the wireless charger and we can be done with it.

Hot Chick:  Yeah, we can do that.  Let’s get started.  Now, I’m going to need to look at my tablet for this return.  While I’m doing that, we’re going to lose eye contact, and I know you’re going to look at my tits.  I get it.  They are great.  Trust me, I’ve been told.  But try not to be super obvious about it, okay?  We’ve got this social agreement down, right?

Me:  Sorry, did you say something?  I was looking at your tits.

Hot Chick:  Whatever.  Just go ahead and do it.  

So…I’ve got to enter in some kind of a reason that you need to return this.  And no, “Hot Chick flirted with me until I bought whatever she suggested” is not on my list of acceptable answers.

Me:  Okay.  Well, to be quite honest, if you really need to list something, you can say that I hate the huge V logo on it. I mean, shit, the phone is big enough.  Now the fucking wireless dock that sits on my desk doubles as a god damned corporate billboard?  What the fuck!  And shit, what’s more is that I only shop here because I get a discount because V is a sponsor of my company!

Hot Chick:  Dude, calm down.  I get it.  Shit, I know what you mean.  These fucks have actually been asking us to wear YOUR company’s flair around here lately.  It’s quite demeaning.  But hey, we’re all in this together.  Just keep swimming, right?

Company policy is to push the ones with the V logo.  We make more money and it’s free advertising.  You understand, you’re smart.  So, we have these other, less-of-a-rip-off wireless chargers that are generic.    You want one of those?

Me:  Nice move, Hot Chick.  Called me smart!  I like your style.  Relentless and slick.  Hey, compliments WILL get you into my pants!

Hot Chick:  Dude, c’mon.  The only thing in your pants that I want is your wallet.  YOU KNOW THIS!!!

Me:  Sorry, I got excited there for a second.  Ummm, No.  I don’t want one of the other wireless chargers.  They’re all overpriced.  You know damn well, even YOU don’t buy accessories from your own store, even with your discount.  I’ll scoop that shit up from Amazon Prime for like, a third of the price, and it’s the same damn thing.  

Hot Chick:  Got it.  Can’t argue there and you know it.  And now I see the depth of your wallet much more clearly.  A lot of the rich people that roll in here would rather throw that charger in the trash before actually coming back to the store to return it.  Unless you’re a creepy old dude and the person you bought it from is me.  That’s the down side of being Hot Chick.

Me:  Okay, enough about the perils of being young and beautiful. I’m sure it’s terribly difficult for you.  I would also like you to explain to me why we’re not in bed right now.

Hot Chick:  Oh!!  That’s right, you and you’re wife went tubing with some friends last weekend.  How is she?  How was it?

Me:  Oh! You actually really do remember and care about me.  Oh my god.  Oh my god.  OH MY GOD!  It was awesome. We had so much fun.  And we had some drinks on the river, and had so much fun, and got sunburned.  Look!!  See my arm?  It’s peeling.  It’s totally proof that we had fun, and you should definitely come next time, and then have sex with me and my wife.

Hot Chick:  Oh my god, you’re right, it does sound like you had an amazing time.  But, there’s no way I’m ever talking to you outside of what’s required of me at work.  I might go tubing one day, but it certainly won’t be with you, and it certainly won’t end up as a threesome.

Me:  Oh, right.  Yeah.  I know.  But, hey, that was a pretty neat trick you had there with your tablet reminding you of my wife’s name and our hobby!  Pretty clever.  I’m onto you, Hot Chick.

Hot Chick:  Actually, it wasn’t a trick.  I think you and your wife a pretty cool people.  Well, you seem pretty happy, and you’re both hilarious. So, I’ll take that back.  I won’t say “never.”  I’ll scale it back to “unlikely.”

Me:  I’LL TAKE IT!!


Guy:  Hey Hot Chick, I just made up a fake phone call for you in case you need a break from this fucking creeper.  You want me to take a fake message, or do you need an excuse to run a way for a minute?

Hot Chick:  Nah, that’s cool Guy.  He’s good.  I’d rather talk to him than you for the next two minutes.  

Guy:  Gotcha, well, just looking out girl.


Hot Chick:  Sorry about that.  He wants to be my wingman so he can fuck me.  There’s REALLY no chance of that, but it’s convenient because he’ll buy me anything from Pancheros at least twice a week.  So that’s nice.

Me:  Awww, good for you!  

Anyway, back to business.  Explain to me again why I’m paying 750 bucks for a phone that I could buy for like 250 up front. I know you told me last time, but I lost my receipt and my memory, you know, because I was buzzed, I was excited you were hot, and I was anxious to get a phone that actually turned on.

Hot Chick:  Haha, yeah, I know.  Okay, it’s really pretty simple.  We’re ripping you off slowly, over the course of two years, so it’s barely noticeable.  See, I’ll do some quick voodoo math here, and like magic, ta-dah…the phone is free!!

Me:  Wow, that’s amazing.  I just got a fucking free phone again!!  Fantastic!  

Okay, that’s fine, I believe you because you smile a lot, and you smell nice.  So, about that threesome…

Hot Chick:  Okay, what are you like 32, maybe 34?

Me:  Actually I’m 38, but thanks for the compliment.

Hot Chick:  Yeah, that’s worse.  I’m 25 Dude, I’m never going to fuck you.

Me:  What, you’re not into older men?

Hot Chick:  Would you be?

Me:  Touche’.  Well, I guess that about wraps it up.  I still think you’re cute, by the way.

Hot Chick:  Yeah, I know.  It’s cool.  And, you’re at least polite and your wife is nice, so I’ll downgrade you from “creeper” status, to “another guy who thinks I’m cute.”  Trust me, it’s a huge downgrade from “creeper.”.  

Me:  Well, thanks very much.  I’m pretty good with phones, and you think I’m “smart,”  so I’ll probably never see you again. Thanks for pretending you might, one day, go tubing with me and my friends, although it’s painfully obvious you have zero intentions to do so.  Shit, I mean, you’ve got business cards right there.  You didn’t even offer to friend me on Facebook so we could keep in touch.  I guess this is the end of the line for me and you, Hot Chick.

Hot Chick:  Yeah, it kinda is.  But you took it well.  And, you’ve got a really nice phone out of the relationship, right?  I mean, it’s sooo big and beautiful.  I wish I had that phone.  

Me:  okay, okay, stop laying it on so thick, darling.  I told you, you’re not THAT hot.  I’ll just shake your hand and be on my way now.  Nice knowing you for the brief slice of time we’ve crossed paths in life.

Hot Chick:  Okay, don’t get all deep and shit with me.

I’m supposed to do this corporate good bye thing, but I’ll just let you go.

Me:  I appreciate that.


Guy:  Thanks for shopping with V today, have a great day!

Me:  There’s that corporate bullshit I’ve missed so much.  Well, thanks man, I actually really hope you do have a good day, brother.

Guy:  Man, you know they make me say this shit.  But I’ve gotta do what a man’s gotta’ do.  I’ve got two kids.  I’m fucking 29, dude.  TWO KIDS.  You know what that’s like, dude?  I actually LIKE being here more than MY OWN DAMN HOME! And Hot Chick lets me buy her Pancheros a couple times a week.  It’s the only peace I have sitting next door with her over lunch.  My damn wife sometimes cooks fucking popcorn and baked beans for dinner.  FOR DINNER!!   Shit, man, just go.  Just go.  I’ll get the door for you.

Me:  Hey man.  I got it.  No worries.

Guy:  Sorry you struck out with Hot Chick.  But didn’t I see you in here with some shorty last weekend?  Blond?  Kinda saunters when she walks?

Me:  Yeah, that was my wife.  I love her.

Guy:  Bro, She’s a real piece of ass.  Don’t fuck with that.  

I don’t mean to be rude or nothing, but you’re lucky she married your ass.

Me:  Damn straight I am.  

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