Nick and I IM and text about postcards a lot these days. This yesterday, via SMS:
[Nick] Is your favorite sense memory from a Vietnamese lunchbox? This is deep/ requires thought.
[Me] One of them, perhaps. Vietnamese *airplane* lunchbox.
[Nick] I made a mental note of the airplane thing, I know. What seems anomalous is that you could have a “fresh” experience in a canister of fetid air. Right?
[Me] I think about it just about every time I encounter a wetnap, a wet wipe, or a warm washcloth at a restaurant. I saved one, I had forgotten. I found it with the garbage card, dried out and discolored. I loved it so much I killed its very essence.
[Nick] I love destroying things I love! -Dink
It’s funny that I mention my hate of mistake publishing on a postcard that contains them. Boxed lunch box just sounds wrong, even if it is the lid of the box that contained the boxed lunch. Also, I forgot an A in pleasantly. Sigh.