Postcards from Boston, Boston, and Brooklyn [and Brooklyn].

So, sort of an unofficial rule here on the Mojo Wire is that if you send me a postcard via snail mail, I'll put it up on the site. Sort of a nice treat for me, here in the middle of nowhere, where it's mostly my grandmother's mail waiting at the box every morning. It's also a pleasant callback to my college years, when Dad, even when were sort of on the outs each other for awhile there, would drop me one in the mail, all tobacco-stained with messages not... really about much of anything at all. But like these, I rarely expected them, and their arrival was always a nice surprise.

With the holidays in full force, lot of mail has piled up, plus I've been busy, so there just hasn't been the time to dig out the scanner.

This first one is from my favorite freshman Smash Bros punching bag, Jessie, and like her first this one is a rad homemade deal. I don't know if it's a quirk of Jessie's, or if she just knows there's this little hipster part of me that just kind of gets off on having something no one else has [yes, I'm one of those "I like That Band you haven't even heard of yet/may not actually exist guys... only with everything]. This one is actually a Christmas card, though, really, even here in the south, we don't let chickens in the Kitchen during Christmas [though we do let them stay with the Swedish Guy in his Bunska-bunska].


The next card that popped up was from my friend Cara, a regular reader [and like Jessie], and smashing designer and fellow Bennington alumni. It's actually an Escher print [awesome], called Metamorphosis III, which not knowing as much about Escher as I should, I'm still feeling pretty safe in assuming is probably inspired by/a reference to Kafka's famous tale.

Which I actually didn't realize right away, and thought at first that, like Jessie's, Cara's was another Christmas card. A a really, really strange one, but hey, I like really, really strange, and tend to attract that when it comes to friends. And in an awesome show of getting so much text in so little space [which if you've ever gotten a card from me, you know I dig], Cara more or less implies as much herself.

Though, okay, okay! It's not a Christmas. It was still exceptionally awesome to get [I should also mention that I got the nicest card from Terry Lively and her company, Vandalia Productions, but since it's a little more business-y, I'm keeping it to myself. Still, it was a wonderful surprise].


This next come from Elle, a picture-print-postcard of Joshua W. Cotter's work, an illustrator and cartoonist who is one of those "I didn't know I knew them" kind of artists, his art popping up uncredited [or I was too lazy too look for the credit] on various tumblrs and I think some t-shirts [I'm a big fan of shirt.woot! and I'm pretty sure he's had some stuff there]. You can see a more detailed version of this piece on his website, along with a lot of other awesome illustrations.

I didn't scan the back, because it's not really a postcard proper, and the message on the back was pretty simple, just "Randall -- Keep writing. --Elle" a lovely sentiment that I've sadly been negligent at as of late. It wasn't postmarked either, because this card was actually tucked away in a lot of other schwag Elle scored for me at the Brooklyn Comics and Graphics Festival [so... goddamn... jealous], which was the second best thing to actually getting to go with her. I contemplated rolling everything out like I had in the past, but it seemed a bit like boasting.

Last, but far from least, is the only New Years card I've ever gotten, ever, and like all the rest they came from Bennington gals -- the oft-linked journalist Sarah Crow, and her roommate and fellow blogger Sarah St. Lifer [those links aren't even close to all they do]. The multi-colored zebras already had me flashing back to Fruit Stripe gum, but the inside...

The lovely ladies on a background of lasers, in what can only be their family Christmas photo. I don't think I've ever made the list of someone's holiday cards I wasn't working for, and this one was so 1990s-riffic that I sincerely hope ushering in each new year will continue to include a callback to my favorite decade. It also really gave me the itch to hunt down my old Charlotte Hornets pullover, which considering what a little porker I was in middle school, I might actually be able to wear again now.

So, there we have it. Two from Boston, two from Brooklyn. Each one absolutely awesome, and I just... don't even know where to begin when it comes to thanking you guys. It means a lot, and I hope you don't mind me showing these off here. Also gives me a very nice impetus to scan everything, and get nice digital copies because in the boxed-up way I have to keep everything in my one room domicile, I don't always have the option of digging cards up and leafing through.

It's also a really loud, and [I think] sweetly obnoxious way to just say thank you. Sincerely.

And hey, guys, this is not a girl's only kind of racket I'm running here. Anyone who wants to drop me a postcard, the address is Randall Nichols at 72 3rd Avenue, Elkview, WV, 25071, and I will heap just as much attention on them as I did on these. I really enjoy getting them, and if nothing else they remain one of the most novel ways to catch up. Always reminds me of Kerouac for some reason... And it's very interesting what people write to you, when they only have a set amount of space.

Except of course for Cara, who I think pulled an Escher-like trick herself, and got a small novel on the back there.

This has also reminded I really want to show off what Glen [that's Glen "Mario's Closet" Brogan, folks] did for me for Christmas... it's a picture print, that shows off my hidden affinity for slightly rotund, bearded gentleman [whew... so glad I spent the bulk of this post talking about chicks. Chicks and...postcards... huh]. My phone camera is rubbish for the job, though, so I may have to talk to Glen about it.

And again, everyone, thank you. I haven't had much time to slow down and just... appreciate things. But I do. A lot.

Cheers.