Monday, November 12, 2018

Royal Man Supports Mental Health Awareness


This postcard from my friend Patrick. And like all British men turned American citizen over 25 years ago, he goes by Paddy. He's a rather smart fellow - works internationally, gives smart talks, and jet-sets smartly all over the world in search of powder - for skiing. This isn't the 90's!

Paddy's European, so he's got that culture thing, plays golf, like boys, and watches Formula 1 - alas, nobody's perfect. 

As for this postcard, it is perfect. A sketch of the artist Keith Haring by Jean-Michel Basquiat in wax crayon, acrylic, and gouache on paper, on postcard. It's fabulous - and so Paddy! 

Thanks, Paddy - I got your postcard! Muah muah. 

Get there.

Thursday, September 13, 2018

Checking in

So, it's been a year since I last posted, but don't fret. I've still been shamelessly asking friends and people to send me postcards. Yes, even randos that I've chatted with or met on the Tinder or the Hinge or from the work and of course the social crowd. Actually, I was at work the other day and I showed my friend (hey you!) the site to legitimize my ask, and they guffawed because it has been so long since i last posted - my bad!

The good thing is I've been getting them. The bad thing is that I've got such a backlog of postcards that I'm ladened with guilty about not posting. So, I'm pledging to turn off the Grey's Anatomy and put down the Häagen-Dazs and get to it. I'll keep you posted! In the meantime, send me a postcard!

Monday, August 7, 2017

Kona is enough, this time...



  

Just to be clear, Stephanie has yet to properly send me a postcard as one would understand. I’m a postcard purist, or at least I thought I was. A postcard should be sent via postal service of the original destination, include some type of message, stamp, stamp cancel and go the distance hand-in-hand with Lady Luck.
Well, Stephanie is a chronic violator of this postcard purist by providing (not sending) postcards either by third-party (mutual friends) or directly handing them to me. These abominations sans the aesthetically pleasing stamp, stamp cancel, and ever authentic wear and tear of (if you’re lucky) international transit. But the fact that she is chronic and consistent so is leading me to reconsider what the “rules” of postcards might be. 


When I showed Ryan, he said “She really doesn’t get it, does she?” But I will give some credit where some credit is due. Above you will find a postcard from Hawaii. Notably, the stamp and address are missing, yet she did send this through the mail – in a package. Gasp! I know, but the package contained Kona coffee. Thus creating a superior care package WITH a postcard inside. 







This blurs the lines for sure because the coffee more than makes up for the offense – a one off exception that I hope does not become the norm. That said, Kona coffee goes a long way to making it okay.

Aloha, Stephanie - I got your postcard.

Get there!

Monday, November 4, 2013

What Causes This?


On July 22, 2013 I get a message on Whatsapp from Juliana that went something to the effect of, "I hope you get these." The image attachment above caused an instant migraine. Basically she took a photo of two postcards that she was sending from France to me in Beijing. A few weeks later, this came in the mail...


The other one, sadly has yet to arrive.

Now, it's no exaggeration that I have to mentally prepare myself to read postcards from Juliana - I appreciate them of course, but they are intense. Just look for yourself. And this one kinda typifies the frantic energy that leaps from the card and into my brain. After this particular onslaught of excitement scribed by this mad, mad woman, I had to sit down and steady myself because the echo of that migraine returned... then I blacked out.

I think I either had a seizure or my left eye twitching uncontrollably so as I collapsed to the ground in agony. The girl is crazy. Crazy mad... Not the feet. There, I've said it and it makes me wonder, what causes it? Thanks Jules, you know I love it. I got your postcard.

Get there.

Sunday, November 3, 2013

Enjoy All You Can


I drunk dialed Yung-yi last night. She didn't answer, so I left a voicemail. All this after a fabulous evening hosting a table for Chifan for Charity at the Taiwanese restaurant here in Beijing called Bellagio. Yes - I know. Moving on. The after party for the city wide event was at the Japanese restaurant, Hatsune for all the hosts and participating guests, volunteers and sponsors. There we enjoyed one too many tumblers of Town Branch bourbon by Kentucky Ale, myself very much included.

So this voicemail... I don't remember much of it, but to be on the receiving end would be a bit weird I'm sure for the average listener, but for Yung-Yi, I can guess she's used to it. For starters leaving voicemails is rare because in China nobody does it and there isnt' a voicemail system with mobile plans. Everyone just tries again or sends a text message. So the habit has pretty much atrophied. When the beep beeped or tone toned, I kinda just sputtered out a bunch of sickly sweet endearing notions on how much I missed her and hanging out and talking to her, you know all the gushy stuff that comes out while blissfully inebriated. But I was also miffed that she didn't pick up.

I think I was on the verge of challenging her two year old in a battle over her affections, well at least attention, but I dialed that back knowing full well that wasn't going to happen and if it did he would kick my ass. It was a good night. And seriously, it was some smooth, strong bourbon! Thanks Yung-Yi, I got your postcard!

Get there!