I got a new cell phone, not for Christmas, but around Christmas. And I had to figure out what to do with all of the pictures on my old cell phone. So now they are all just sitting there on iPhoto.So I'm toying with this idea of writing about all of them. A lot of them are gone, into the ether, I don't know where. But 180 pictures survived the move, all taken with a very cheap cell phone, none very good. Some to capture moments, others to help me remember a salsa I like. What if I try to write about each and every one of them? That, it seems, would be the most boring slide show ever.
So let's do it!
Entry number one.
This was, what, two years ago? Not this past summer. The one before. We don't do waterparks often - we must have had a coupon. I remember I took this picture specifically for use as the display on the screen inside my phone. Does it get much cheesier than concrete rivers and giant human flushing machines? We hadn't been to Zoombezi Bay before, and at least one of us - the mom one - was not very excited. But then, taking a break from crazy slides, sitting in a lounge chair as the kids played in the giant wave pool, drinking a seven-dollar, lime-flavored Bud Light, even she embraced the cheese, and we had to admit, we were having a damn good time.
Entry number two!
My son, circa a-few-years-ago. Cute. I can't imagine calling him cute anymore. But this is cute. I have no recollection of taking this picture.
Number three!
Ah, Larry's. I took this picture as a keepsake on Larry's last night. Larry's was an OSU campus institution, and while I was by no means a regular, I had some fond memories. When I was in high school, Larry's was rumored to be a gay-bar, back when that was still taboo. The rumor was started by the regulars in order to keep the frat-types away, and it worked. Larry's was a dark, Tom Waits-y type of bearded grad student and old-guy bar. Dark wood, peanuts, cheap glasses, philosophy rather than phallises on the bathroom walls. You imagined that the group of flannel wearing guys in the corner were planning the revolution. I first went to Larry's when I was in high school; an older, artsier friend invited some of us to his poetry reading - poetry readings happened at Larry's. That was probably one of the first times I had ever been in a bar. I still remember parts of the poetry, actually, and certainly Kip's reaction when I made an observation about one of his poems that he thought nailed it. Kip's poetry was actually pretty good, I recall, but a lot of the other stuff was far enough over our young heads as to seem completely non-sensical; for weeks after, Tom Ferkany would pass me notes in choir class with his own versions of meaningless poetry: "Tree bags, help!" and "Tuesday, up in the sky." I still remember them.
Poetry aside, though, something else that night made an even bigger impression: Larry's didn't card.
So I used to go to Larry's once in a while through high school and college, and even a few times since. It was the only bar where you could drink and not look crazy grading papers. It was a great bar, actually, had a lot of character and charm.
The night I took that picture, I was out with a couple of teacher friends, and we remembered the story in The Dispatch about it being Larry's last night, and we headed over. We were a bit out of place then, more buttoned down than I had been years before, less bohemian than most others there. I wish I had fit in better at Larry's, and I wish Larry's had fit in better, too. The city is worse off without it.
Entry number two!
My son, circa a-few-years-ago. Cute. I can't imagine calling him cute anymore. But this is cute. I have no recollection of taking this picture.
Number three!
Ah, Larry's. I took this picture as a keepsake on Larry's last night. Larry's was an OSU campus institution, and while I was by no means a regular, I had some fond memories. When I was in high school, Larry's was rumored to be a gay-bar, back when that was still taboo. The rumor was started by the regulars in order to keep the frat-types away, and it worked. Larry's was a dark, Tom Waits-y type of bearded grad student and old-guy bar. Dark wood, peanuts, cheap glasses, philosophy rather than phallises on the bathroom walls. You imagined that the group of flannel wearing guys in the corner were planning the revolution. I first went to Larry's when I was in high school; an older, artsier friend invited some of us to his poetry reading - poetry readings happened at Larry's. That was probably one of the first times I had ever been in a bar. I still remember parts of the poetry, actually, and certainly Kip's reaction when I made an observation about one of his poems that he thought nailed it. Kip's poetry was actually pretty good, I recall, but a lot of the other stuff was far enough over our young heads as to seem completely non-sensical; for weeks after, Tom Ferkany would pass me notes in choir class with his own versions of meaningless poetry: "Tree bags, help!" and "Tuesday, up in the sky." I still remember them.
Poetry aside, though, something else that night made an even bigger impression: Larry's didn't card.
So I used to go to Larry's once in a while through high school and college, and even a few times since. It was the only bar where you could drink and not look crazy grading papers. It was a great bar, actually, had a lot of character and charm.
The night I took that picture, I was out with a couple of teacher friends, and we remembered the story in The Dispatch about it being Larry's last night, and we headed over. We were a bit out of place then, more buttoned down than I had been years before, less bohemian than most others there. I wish I had fit in better at Larry's, and I wish Larry's had fit in better, too. The city is worse off without it.
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Only 177 more to go!
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