End of an era

Or, the wrong store closed. Or, why must bad shit happen to good people?

Yeah, I'll say it. That rat-hole known as A-1 should have closed, not Video Game Trading Post.

I'll admit it. When I moved up here 7 years ago, I didn't really know the difference between the two stores. One was off by itself, the other in a strip mall. They both had tons of old games. Both of them put me off -- one store had the female version of Skeletor, the other, some indifferent dude who didn't bother to say "hi" when we came into the store. I wrote one off. And I gave another one a chance.

Today was the last day VGTP was open, but it wasn't the same. The clutter that we all found comforting was gone. The walls, save for the wonderful mural painted by Ed Watson, were bare. The main display cases were gone. Nothing on the walls, except for the old 48 Hours clock. No Final Fantasy posters, no NES or SNES games... it was all gone. The inventory lives on at another store, but it won't be the same. It can't be the same.

In her blog, DJ points out the Post had a life of its own, it was an entity. And she's right. Once I became a regular, I found myself down there at least one day a week, sometimes, several -- depending on what I needed to get away from. When you collect games, there's always something you're chasing. I'd get called if something special showed up. I was able to answer questions DJ didn't have answers for. And when I was laid off at the Statesman and ended up working at the game store at the mall, I still had time for the Post. And then, I was invited into a very exclusive club -- working at VGTP.

I was there for just under a year. I met lots of people, got to know several folks better -- two became roommates, one (who I had met before I was an employee) eventually became the only other man I'll have in my life.

There's been talk of closing the Post for just about as long as I can remember. And so when I heard the news this summer, I wasn't sure that it was going to happen. Not this time. They'll find a way out, they always do. But they didn't. Things happen for a reason. We'll all move on. But no one says it will be easy -- or that it should be.

It really hit home this afternoon, when we dropped by to ... I guess pay our respects (it really was like a wake). DJ wanted a pic of Scott and me. As we stood below the mural and Scott put his arm around me, it hit me: There wouldn't be an *us* without this place. And that made me sad. Yes, I've been saying for some time that I can't imagine life without Scott, that I can't remember what it was like when I was married to the ex-person, but really, it comes down to the chain of events that led me to the Post, and to the day DJ told me she wanted to hire me -- complete with the caveat of "I only ask once. If you say no, I won't ask again." And even though it was for less money than the mall, I took the job.

We've been through a lot of shit. They were there during the break up and divorce, through the depression and while I was trying to get my shit together. They were there when I found me, when I found love. Really, it feels like the Post was there for me more than I was for it. But I think there were enough of us who dropped by to keep it going -- at least the spirit -- where it was kinda OK if we all didn't get over there as often as we should.

It would be easy to be bitter, to blame the market, the competition. But how often do people get a second chance? I know I got one, and at least on the relationship side of things, I didn't squander that. There will be other stores, there will be people who try to copy what made the Post great. As customers, we'll find other places to get games. It won't be the same. We know what to look for, we know what makes for a fair price and when we're getting screwed. Those other places to buy games, those are just stores. Corporate or local, they're just providing a service. They won't have the character or the spirit of a place like the Post.

I won't back off the assertion that the wrong store closed, that bad shit has got to stop happening to good people. Seriously, Karma Bunny, when are you going to give these folks a break? I'm not asking for a lot, just go kick someone else in the balls for awhile. Really.

The sadness, the emptiness will be there -- especially when we drive down Fairview and see the store empty, or with someone else in there. It will pass, as these things do. More quickly for some, less quickly for others.

And really, as much as I'd like to say something poetic and meaningful, what needs to be said is very simple:

Thank you. For everything.

Lighting II

White bear on a white background


Smaller light box with bigger lights

So in our quest to build the perfect cheap-ass light box, we've added some items to the arsenal:

• two 250-watt halogen work lights
• a new power strip
• smaller box, roughly a third the size of the original
• the ability to guide planes into my living room
• the ability to heat my entire basement area with two halogen work lights

Anyway, I still need to try the new lights with the bigger light box. I think the results will be favorable, but dammit, I just don't have enough time in the day...

And I really need to shoot during the day. The planes coming in at night REALLY disrupt the creative process.

Chlorine

Dear motorcycle-riding cell phone user heading east on Goddard,

I'm calling you out because you're the second stupid fuck I've seen doing this in a week. I know that you think you were on an important call. But let's take a closer look at what you were doing.

1. Riding a motorcycle. For the most part, this is an activity that requires two hands — especially if shifting, turning or stopping. Most people can't handle this activity when it's got their undivided attention. I know you aren't a Mensa candidate; I saw the kind of helmet you were wearing.

2. Riding a motorcycle. I don't care how good of a rider you think you are; all of us who have ridden on the street know you have to watch out for the assholes in cars. Many of them claim motorcyclists are hard to see. If they don't see you, how the fuck do you have enough time to react if you're distracted by talking on the phone?

3. Talking on the phone. There are few things that are important enough to warrant a call in the car. Your baby better be shitting baby zebras if you're talking on the phone on a fucking motorcycle. I mean, why not pull over? What the fuck is that important? Is it worth crashing?

4. Talking on the phone. I have to think that talking on the phone while riding a motorcycle is dumber than talking on the phone in the shitter. It's got to be a least as annoying for the person on the other end. I'm very conscious of how my background noise affects the other person. Maybe it's just because of the way I was raised, or because I really dislike talking to someone with a lot of background noise.

In any event, keep both hands on the handle bars and put your fucking phone away. Otherwise, we'll chalk this up to chlorine in the gene pool and pray you haven't reproduced.

See you in the Darwin Awards!

Memory

"Flags are bits of colored cloth that governments use first to shrink-wrap people's brains and then as ceremonial shrouds to bury the dead."
— Arundhati Roy

CNN was on in the break room for most of the day. There was a lot of coverage on the Senate hearings and the propose troop pullouts. There was coverage of the 9/11 remembrances, images of the towers falling, images of the smoldering Pentagon.

I'm not going to rehash what I wrote here and here. I think there's merit to the idea that 9/11 was an inside job. Want a copy of "Loose Change"? I'll gladly burn one for you.

In any event, working for XYZ Corporation, and the project I'm on, folks are pretty conservative. At lunch, I heard the following exchange while 9/11 footage was on TV:

Gray-haired dude: "I remember it like it was yesterday."
Old bald dude: "Yeah, me too. I wish more people did. My folks know exactly what they were doing during Pearl Harbor."

OK. I don't think any of us really forget what happened that day. Does bringing it up everyday make you a better American? Are you more patriotic if you have more flags and magnetic ribbons on your car? Seriously.

Everyone remembers — or mourns — in his or her own way. I didn't know anyone in the towers, the Pentagon, or on the planes. It was a tragedy, a slap in the face to what so many hold dear. I knew our world changed that day, but it took a few years to figure out what that change was. It took a few years to realize the war has nothing to do with 9/11. I don't think that makes me unpatriotic. I think more questions need to be raised about 9/11 and how and why those towers fell. We certainly don't have the right answers on why we're in Iraq. And really, I don't think many people realize that we're a heartbeat away from martial law. Patriot Act folks, look into it. Damn that soap box...

In any event, I won't forget. You don't forget traumatic events; many of us bury them so they don't boil too close to the surface. There's nothing wrong with healing and moving on. Living your life with raw sores exposed to the elements is nothing more than sadomasochism. I tried that for awhile. Self pity and loathing just aren't worth it. You've got to move on.

You don't forget, you go forward.

Lighting

converse, originally uploaded by bobaferret131.

So I finally did it.

I built the light box I've had the link to for several months. I think it would work better if the box was square, but all things considered, it turned out pretty well. I need some stronger lights, but I need a little thing called money for that.

This is also a post from flickr, so we'll see how it looks.

Larry Craig T-shirt ideas

• I'm not gay, but my senator is
• My gay senator can beat up your gay senator
• Jiminy!
• Remember: It's only gay if it's in you
• Gay Republicans love Bush
• "I've got a wide stance"
• Airport bathroom love

I love the Smoking Gun