products products, take it, breathe it live it. Forget that life is about you and about us. about humans, because now in this world its about money money money to buy more more more to make us feel better about our fucked up problems.
ticket booth. Walk in. Popcorn and drinks. Sneaky looks to him. Sit nervous, waiting for the hand holding. Not even watching the movie, just wondering what is going on behind those big brown eyes. Try to not get caught staring. Try to keep the butterflies to a minimum. Try not to fall in love. <3
I remember waiting in line for a photobooth with my new friends from University. They wanted to go in and take the picture, then just smile pretty for the camera. I wanted more from my friends. I always did, and still do. My old (better) friends from high school would have done more than smile. I’m so lucky to be in touch with them still, they’re far more interesting than my new friends ever will be.
Ambos. La historia de Javier Marías suele empezar con un sujeto con problemas amorosos en los que hay, inevitablemente, una cubana con piernas grandes. No hay cubanas con piernas delgadas, si es lo que les interesaba saber. Sólo he conocido una cubana con piernas delgadas y era coja. Vivía en una clínica de rehabilitación y me contó una historia sobre santeros y gallinas.
phone booth is a movie that i recently watched. photo booths are also very fun. at parties i like to take pictures in photo booths. when i go to a restaurant i sit in a booth. my grandpa owns a deli with cool booths.
“I want a boof!” demands the hoodrat, as he and six of his friends pile into a booth at Buffalo Wild Wings Bayshore. They order a 10 or 12 piece chicken, skip on the ranch because it costs extra, and pay for their meal with exact change. It may be hard out here for a pimp, but it’s even harder to be a server. With so much swag in one place, all I can do is grit my teeth and embrace “Ghetto Tuesday.”
I tried so hard to prepare my booth for the craft show. I spent weeks making bags and totes–spent way to much money, too. I really wanted to succeed, but life always seems to catch me off guard. First there was the weather. Who would have thought that it would rain almost two inches that day? Other than Noah, not many customers showed up to buy the bags I made. They were adorable, if I do say so myself. No hyperbole there…
What now? She was stuck in this strange city with not a cent to her name and an overly caffeined brain. How was she ever going to explain this to her superiors. The creatures had come out of nowhere, though. Her only recourse had been to cram herself into that phone booth. Suddenly everything had gone quiet. She had cautiously opened the door to peek out and discovered herself in a street that she didn’t recognize in a city that she didn’t know… What what going on?
the red vinyl seat cover squelched wetly as she slid across it, people at other booths lokked over expecting a red face, but she didnt acknowledge their stares
Booth? I’ll talk about show ticket booths…I wonder how they originated. Where did the word booth come from…I don’t know what to talk about. I’m so not creative….
this is a place where love happens, where sparks fly and where you could make a call to a love one whom you haven’t spoken with in years. It rhyms with tooth and can be a gate to a highway not yet traveled. Moments are captured in time here
two warm bodies
squished against each other
shoulders touching the walls of a
photo booth
making faces at a camera
sweaty smiles, a stolen kiss
immortalized
on two strips of cheap
photo paper
There she stood, breathless, with the beeping phone still in het hands. He hung up on her, the bastard! She gazed around, scanning her environment. The charactiristic red london phone booth had never felt so cold to her..
One of my favorite books when I was a kid was The Phantom Tollbooth. Living in the east I always imagined what I would do as we passed through a tollbooth. The wet black pavement and smell of diesel fumes, smokestacks from unknown factories producing unknown products looming on the horizon….A city kids version of the wilderness
booth ngyuen, an old friend from high school, he was a cool asian kid, and was quite a popular dude. booths also remind me of the hob nob restaurant that i worked at as a teenager, i remember all the guests that always wanted to sit in the booths in our restaurant..
i stood in the booth waiting for a call. the call never came. I was still hoping that the call would come. I stood there day and night. Hoping and waiting. and then one morning it happened. The mobile phones were invented and that joy of waiting was ripped from me.
Sitting in the coffee shop booth, laptop facing me, headphones in.
Beautiful smile face, appearing over the laptop screen.
Coffee, the smell of her hair, the music flowing through my viens.
Studying with her, her hands entwine themselves in mine, perfect.
Her skin smells of vanilla, sweet.
The whispered words, “I love you” echo in my four-chambered organ.
I remember a red telephone booth, the one in Dr. Who. But the reason I remember it is because of Fry and Laurie. Actually as I think about it I also remember election booth.
we sat opposite one another. silently and awkward. a blind date going terribly wrong. I didnt want this to go on any longer but i had no idea what to say. my mouth would open but then close with out a word escaping from my lips.
photo, for passports, excitement, anticipation ….. cut off, secretive, sex shows, squalid, humiliation……old fashioned cafe with high backed seats, shut away from the world.
I was at the Ford’s Theatre once, but it took me a while to realize it. I was having a slow moment ;)
I was there for an interview and I knew it was called “Ford’s” theatre but I didn’t realize it was THE Ford’s Theatre! I had no idea i was even in the same state where Lincoln got shot. My mind was elsewhere.
As I looked out into the theatre I thought to myself “Wow… this looks exactly like that theatre where Lincoln got shot. This is SO WEIRD… It looks SO much like it. It’s EXACTLY like it!” I couldn’t get this thought out of my head. How EXACTLY it looked like all those pictures I’d seen throughout my childhood. Then It finally dawned on me… Washington DC… FORD’S THEATRE… and then (because did I mention I was having a slow moment?) I thought to myself “- I guess that’s what all that civil war stuff was about down in the lobby….”
it wasn’t simple. being as shy as she was and sitting inside the dollar kisses booth. it wasn’t even a stupid bet. it was a stupid gamble. she’d had curious males and females stopping by. wrong, all wrong!
Sit in the booth and snap a picture. But when you step out, realize that there’s more to you than what shows in that photo. Behind that awkward smile lies an imprint. Of pain. Happiness. Anxiety. Hope. Fear. Courage. All of which make that old photo booth defiantly powerful.
telephone booth. photobooth. taking pictures. random ones. being okay. i dont get this. im sorry. what? i could take the call but.. i want to see where this is going. apparently sixty seconds isn’t enough.
Sitting in the coffee shop booth, laptop facing me, headphones in.
Beautiful smile face, almost of a goddess, appearing over the laptop screen.
Coffee, the smell of her hair, the music flowing through my viens.
The light in the coffee shop dims, the barrista walks back with my last cup.
I once knew a man named Charlie Booth. He was a terrific guy. In the boring world of banking, he was very lively and interesting. He spoke in baseball terms a lot, and it was fun to overhear him talking to clients about hitting one out of the park, etc.. He was a very good natured man. Hooray for Charlie Booth!
I was sitting in the booth on the foggy morning of July 14th, when she walked up to me. The beautiful goddess of the so-called small town coffee shop in Seattle. It wasn’t my first time in the coffee shop that week I visited, but it wasn’t my last. I had fallen in love with the barrista of my dreams.
While trapped in a phone booth, i began to muse over why on the reasons i was there. I was nice and smiled at a pretty girl the wrong girl of course, will i never learn? probably not, as i smiled thinking, yes it was all worth it.
Box, communication center. A reach to the outside world. Voting place. A place to change the world, by way of a personal opinion. Small space, big possibilities.
Booth? What can you do with booth … is it something to sit in … or someone to talk to … or someone who shot the president? A booth can be animal and mineral and what else .. does it make any difference?
John Wilkes Booth killed Abraham Lincoln in a theatre booth. Well, to be fair, it was more of a box than booth, but John was definitely a Booth so I guess that sort of counts.
the little child stood behind the lemonade booth with a crayoned sign, FIVE CENTS A CUP. an old person walked over. “five cents a cup, eh?” they said with a snicker. “but how much is the lemonade?”
we fit comfortably here.
amidst worn leather with intricate cracks for veins
frayed edges for nerve endings
missing support from far too many years of overuse…
products products, take it, breathe it live it. Forget that life is about you and about us. about humans, because now in this world its about money money money to buy more more more to make us feel better about our fucked up problems.
ticket. baseball.bathroom.stall.tooth.birds.fortune teller.gypsy.carnival.fair.festival.amelie.
ticket booth. Walk in. Popcorn and drinks. Sneaky looks to him. Sit nervous, waiting for the hand holding. Not even watching the movie, just wondering what is going on behind those big brown eyes. Try to not get caught staring. Try to keep the butterflies to a minimum. Try not to fall in love. <3
I remember waiting in line for a photobooth with my new friends from University. They wanted to go in and take the picture, then just smile pretty for the camera. I wanted more from my friends. I always did, and still do. My old (better) friends from high school would have done more than smile. I’m so lucky to be in touch with them still, they’re far more interesting than my new friends ever will be.
restaurant
drink
dinner
friends
eating
food
chill
chili’s
applebees
liquor
Ambos. La historia de Javier Marías suele empezar con un sujeto con problemas amorosos en los que hay, inevitablemente, una cubana con piernas grandes. No hay cubanas con piernas delgadas, si es lo que les interesaba saber. Sólo he conocido una cubana con piernas delgadas y era coja. Vivía en una clínica de rehabilitación y me contó una historia sobre santeros y gallinas.
phone booth is a movie that i recently watched. photo booths are also very fun. at parties i like to take pictures in photo booths. when i go to a restaurant i sit in a booth. my grandpa owns a deli with cool booths.
“I want a boof!” demands the hoodrat, as he and six of his friends pile into a booth at Buffalo Wild Wings Bayshore. They order a 10 or 12 piece chicken, skip on the ranch because it costs extra, and pay for their meal with exact change. It may be hard out here for a pimp, but it’s even harder to be a server. With so much swag in one place, all I can do is grit my teeth and embrace “Ghetto Tuesday.”
I tried so hard to prepare my booth for the craft show. I spent weeks making bags and totes–spent way to much money, too. I really wanted to succeed, but life always seems to catch me off guard. First there was the weather. Who would have thought that it would rain almost two inches that day? Other than Noah, not many customers showed up to buy the bags I made. They were adorable, if I do say so myself. No hyperbole there…
What now? She was stuck in this strange city with not a cent to her name and an overly caffeined brain. How was she ever going to explain this to her superiors. The creatures had come out of nowhere, though. Her only recourse had been to cram herself into that phone booth. Suddenly everything had gone quiet. She had cautiously opened the door to peek out and discovered herself in a street that she didn’t recognize in a city that she didn’t know… What what going on?
the red vinyl seat cover squelched wetly as she slid across it, people at other booths lokked over expecting a red face, but she didnt acknowledge their stares
Booth? I’ll talk about show ticket booths…I wonder how they originated. Where did the word booth come from…I don’t know what to talk about. I’m so not creative….
this is a place where love happens, where sparks fly and where you could make a call to a love one whom you haven’t spoken with in years. It rhyms with tooth and can be a gate to a highway not yet traveled. Moments are captured in time here
two warm bodies
squished against each other
shoulders touching the walls of a
photo booth
making faces at a camera
sweaty smiles, a stolen kiss
immortalized
on two strips of cheap
photo paper
There she stood, breathless, with the beeping phone still in het hands. He hung up on her, the bastard! She gazed around, scanning her environment. The charactiristic red london phone booth had never felt so cold to her..
One of my favorite books when I was a kid was The Phantom Tollbooth. Living in the east I always imagined what I would do as we passed through a tollbooth. The wet black pavement and smell of diesel fumes, smokestacks from unknown factories producing unknown products looming on the horizon….A city kids version of the wilderness
“I did it,” I said
The priest let out the smallest of breaths. All the hail Marys in the world wouldn’t be enough.
booth ngyuen, an old friend from high school, he was a cool asian kid, and was quite a popular dude. booths also remind me of the hob nob restaurant that i worked at as a teenager, i remember all the guests that always wanted to sit in the booths in our restaurant..
i stood in the booth waiting for a call. the call never came. I was still hoping that the call would come. I stood there day and night. Hoping and waiting. and then one morning it happened. The mobile phones were invented and that joy of waiting was ripped from me.
the booth is teh most favorite part of cloating in ther world
Sitting in the coffee shop booth, laptop facing me, headphones in.
Beautiful smile face, appearing over the laptop screen.
Coffee, the smell of her hair, the music flowing through my viens.
Studying with her, her hands entwine themselves in mine, perfect.
Her skin smells of vanilla, sweet.
The whispered words, “I love you” echo in my four-chambered organ.
If you could somehow change the hot lunch menu at school without Ms. Booth hearing about it…good lick with that.
Yick. Lick.
I remember a red telephone booth, the one in Dr. Who. But the reason I remember it is because of Fry and Laurie. Actually as I think about it I also remember election booth.
we sat opposite one another. silently and awkward. a blind date going terribly wrong. I didnt want this to go on any longer but i had no idea what to say. my mouth would open but then close with out a word escaping from my lips.
photo, for passports, excitement, anticipation ….. cut off, secretive, sex shows, squalid, humiliation……old fashioned cafe with high backed seats, shut away from the world.
Booth.
John Wilkes :)
I was at the Ford’s Theatre once, but it took me a while to realize it. I was having a slow moment ;)
I was there for an interview and I knew it was called “Ford’s” theatre but I didn’t realize it was THE Ford’s Theatre! I had no idea i was even in the same state where Lincoln got shot. My mind was elsewhere.
As I looked out into the theatre I thought to myself “Wow… this looks exactly like that theatre where Lincoln got shot. This is SO WEIRD… It looks SO much like it. It’s EXACTLY like it!” I couldn’t get this thought out of my head. How EXACTLY it looked like all those pictures I’d seen throughout my childhood. Then It finally dawned on me… Washington DC… FORD’S THEATRE… and then (because did I mention I was having a slow moment?) I thought to myself “- I guess that’s what all that civil war stuff was about down in the lobby….”
it wasn’t simple. being as shy as she was and sitting inside the dollar kisses booth. it wasn’t even a stupid bet. it was a stupid gamble. she’d had curious males and females stopping by. wrong, all wrong!
Sit in the booth and snap a picture. But when you step out, realize that there’s more to you than what shows in that photo. Behind that awkward smile lies an imprint. Of pain. Happiness. Anxiety. Hope. Fear. Courage. All of which make that old photo booth defiantly powerful.
telephone booth. photobooth. taking pictures. random ones. being okay. i dont get this. im sorry. what? i could take the call but.. i want to see where this is going. apparently sixty seconds isn’t enough.
Sunday morning, July 14th, 2010.
Sitting in the coffee shop booth, laptop facing me, headphones in.
Beautiful smile face, almost of a goddess, appearing over the laptop screen.
Coffee, the smell of her hair, the music flowing through my viens.
The light in the coffee shop dims, the barrista walks back with my last cup.
a place to make calls personally…or video surfing
or somewhere you are alone
I once knew a man named Charlie Booth. He was a terrific guy. In the boring world of banking, he was very lively and interesting. He spoke in baseball terms a lot, and it was fun to overhear him talking to clients about hitting one out of the park, etc.. He was a very good natured man. Hooray for Charlie Booth!
I was sitting in the booth on the foggy morning of July 14th, when she walked up to me. The beautiful goddess of the so-called small town coffee shop in Seattle. It wasn’t my first time in the coffee shop that week I visited, but it wasn’t my last. I had fallen in love with the barrista of my dreams.
While trapped in a phone booth, i began to muse over why on the reasons i was there. I was nice and smiled at a pretty girl the wrong girl of course, will i never learn? probably not, as i smiled thinking, yes it was all worth it.
Box, communication center. A reach to the outside world. Voting place. A place to change the world, by way of a personal opinion. Small space, big possibilities.
Booth? What can you do with booth … is it something to sit in … or someone to talk to … or someone who shot the president? A booth can be animal and mineral and what else .. does it make any difference?
John Wilkes Booth killed Abraham Lincoln in a theatre booth. Well, to be fair, it was more of a box than booth, but John was definitely a Booth so I guess that sort of counts.
the little child stood behind the lemonade booth with a crayoned sign, FIVE CENTS A CUP. an old person walked over. “five cents a cup, eh?” they said with a snicker. “but how much is the lemonade?”
we fit comfortably here.
amidst worn leather with intricate cracks for veins
frayed edges for nerve endings
missing support from far too many years of overuse…
found at restaurants: “would you like a booth or a table?” Also found at carnivals where they sell stupid things,