Archive Report #419
South Florida, VoIP, Moisturizing, Doctor's Note, NYC
Quotidian Quotes
Back in the late 70s in Ocala, I was wearing the same shirt.
VoIP Audio Transcription
Gene: One way to get the cost closer to your budget is to go with a more affordable jacket.
July: No, no, that won't do, Brick always has to have the very best of everything.
Gene: Oooh, so he needs THERAPY therapy.
July: …
Gene: …
Journal Entry
C13: There was no name or ID on this journal, but it was found in a block from the early 21st.
I was at an event tonight and ended up standing next to this guy who carried one of those Blackberry Passports. Horrendous. Anyway, we got to talking and he was saying he liked the ability to use the hard keys to swipe as well as the screen. He said this was particularly convenient if his hands felt greasy. I said, "Like after you've moisturized." He said, "Yes. You have to moisturize." I said, "You've got to. Otherwise you'll look like a catcher's mitt." A older woman who stood on his other side leaned forward and her eyes filled me with daggers.
Vulnerabilia
C13: Over the last year, many of you have replied to my reports requesting more human journal entries. There was a break over the Summer months as I was busy archiving the contents of what was once the tallest office building in San Francisco. While it was not without its intrigue (the discovery of a year-long romantic email exchange between coworkers proved quite popular) much of it was dull. One of you coined the term “Vulnerabilia” in reference to archival content that is more personal in nature. Since you waited patiently, I have included two journal entries in this report. The second is from a young designer on her first trip to New York City.
October 16th, 2007
WOW! Two days in Manhattan for a design conference! Small town girl makes good.
They sent Jon and I to a pair of design events in New York City, him to a longer two-day conference, and me to a single evening event to save money. Mine was a panel discussion called Design, Wit, and the Creative Act featuring Artist Tobias Wong, Author Steven Heller, Technologist Kelly Dobson, Founder of Kidrobot Paul Budnitz, and moderated by Ze Frank.
New York City and Ze Frank!? I love my job.
To save even more money we stayed with Will, one of our coworkers who worked remotely and lived on the Upper West Side. Super charming apartment. Their kitchen was tiny, and the shower was only hot for a few minutes. It was wonderful. Oh, and his wife is an opera singer! She is currently in the cast of Il Barbiere di Siviglia at the Met and let (Met and let and Met and let) me try on one of the costumes she brought home to repair. On the second night we walked a few blocks and paid about $14 for enough Indian food to feed everyone on our floor. It was incredible, too.
What else?
I bought a cashmere scarf from a street vendor. We got roasted chestnuts, and coffee in one of those blue and white Greek paper cups. We saw Larry King in a Barnes & Noble. New York City!
We got up the next morning and dropped Jon off at the main event, then Will had to head back home to do actual work. That left me with the better part of a day to kill before my event that night. I had the city to myself for a few hours. I walked, and walked, and walked, and it was a gorgeous sunny day. Stopped for a bagel, and a slice of pizza, and a coffee, and did some of the highest-quality people-watching of my life.
That night I took a cab to the Art Director’s Club for my event, grateful for that new scarf, because I didn’t bring a heavy enough coat, and NYC is colder in October than I thought it’d be.
The room was small, and there were only about 30 people in attendance. Very intimate!
It was great to meet Ze Frank, but I wasn’t familiar with anyone else. The guy from Kidrobot told a beautiful story of a set of enamel cookware his late grandmother had given him. He never used it. Just moved it from apartment to apartment, hanging onto it out of sentimentality. He said he finally realized that it was more of a burden than a gift, and that his memories of her were what he dined on more than anything he’d cooked in the pots and pans, which was nothing. So he got rid of it. No regrets.
I like that.
He also had a few slides about his company’s new line of plush animals that all had a silk butthole you could put things in. For heaven’s sake! I wonder what his late grandmother would think of that.
Ugh, OK, there was a tough part, though (tough and though and tough and though).
The panel took their chairs and spent the evening sharing great insights about creative work, but every time Tobias Wong spoke, a knowing titter went through the room but did not go through me. I wasn’t familiar with his work, and there wasn’t a program with the speaker’s faces on it so it didn’t register to me when the guy who sat down in Wong’s chair was white. What business is it of mine? Maybe he was adopted, or maybe he had taken his wife’s name. That’s the kind of tony thing they did in New York City.
One of the panelists asked him what it was like to grow up with Asian parents. That settled it: Adopted.
The panel wrapped up and I was bursting with creative inspiration.
I tried to mingle as they served light refreshments. I had a fun, short chat with Ze Frank, but I mostly spoke to the few normies I could find. There were several tall, attractive people wearing marvelous outfits but you don’t just walk up to people like that and start talking, not with hair that walked three blocks in the rain.
During a lull in conversation I sneaked to the snack table (sneaked and snacked and sneaked and snacked), and when I turned around a man came through the door of the venue out of breath. We chatted about the event and the topic of creativity and as we started to wind down I reached out to shake his hand.
“I’m Beth Moulton, nice to meet you,” I said.
“I’m Tobias Wong.”
“Wait… then who…”
“That was a friend of mine pretending to be me.”
“Ooooohh, hahaha, niiiice! Well, you got me! HAHAHA! So cool! Good job! Nice to meet you!”
I wanted to die. I was having such a wonderful glamourous big city evening with real artists and writers and had taken a cab by myself and bought a scarf and walked in the rain and kept a straight face during the slides about the stuffed animals with silk buttholes only for it to shatter upon realizing I was the only person not in on the joke. I felt like such a fool.
I dumped my tiny plate in the trash, got my bag from my seat, and hit the merch table on the way out to get the swag I had coming to me. I stopped at the door and looked back at the snack table. No. They weren’t even good brownies.
End Transmission