unforum

[krystyn]

curse

[krystyn]

lonely and unloved

[enaxor]

I'm mostly lurking on this game now, not enough time to play. For those who live around Portland Oregon, I found a perfect name to anagram for a curse on Kink. This is from Find A Grave website. Frances Fuller Victor buried at Riverview Cemetery, anagrams to "Recall Victor n suffer".

[HitsHerMark]

At this point I'm going to shamelessly plug the ARG Flickr pool at http://flickr.com/groups/arg/ and how wonderful it would be if all these lovely pictures were added to it...

And I'm going to jaunt out at some point today or Monday to do this as well. I don't see a deadline (yuk yuk) for these. Is anybody else aware of one that I'm just not seeing?

[miss_seph]

For travelling hats and such, feel free to send one this way and I"ll get some photos of it travelling around the green country side and blue waters of New Zealand (and perhaps Sydney at the same time if it arrives within the next month)

[krystyn]

http://www.flickr.com/photos/krystyn/tags/lastcallpoker/

Those are *all* of the photos FourDSwissCheese and I took today at Bachelor's Grove (er, and any more that may appear after today with that lastcallpoker tag).

Of amusement is the "haunted" photo 4D took of me. I thought our tributes to Robert Brown looked especially nice. It was a really lovely day. I've added all the photos to HitsHerMark's ARG Flickr group.

[Wiser]

[ahecht]

I got rained out before I had a chance to do the anagrams or the dark tasks, but I did pretty up an old forgotten headstone:

[addlepated]

[Cortana]

I went to the Greenwood Memorial Park this afternoon. Stopping at the gas station at the corner, I picked up a lone rose from a cashier who declared, as I walked through the door "F*ck Texas. F*ck the cowboys. F*ck this whole damn state" and slammed his cellphone down.

"Sorry," he said, as he rang me up, and I walked out. Driving through the cemetery, I was not alone. A hispanic woman and her two children knelt at a marker. She was crying. The boy ran off.

A white woman lay on the ground, two red blooming roses in her hand, on the grave of what may well have been her lover.

A woman sat in the driver's seat of her blue car, her head on the steering wheel, tears pouring down her cheek.

I parked my car, and I walked amongst the flat stones, looking for someone in need of solace, someone with an odd name, someone who died young.

I found a pair of twins who died after 3 days. I found a woman who lived to be 100. I found two brothers, buried side by side, who died after they came home from the war.

Cemeteries are not easy places for me, and I'm not entirely sure I'll go back to one. But I paid tribute to the twins with the rose, and took pictures of the others. They won't be posted to gawk at, but I sent them on to Lucky, for reasons I can't quite understand.

[cyberinsekt]

The hardest part of the cemetery visit for me was the children's section. I'm used to seeing the graves of children, I've seen enough in my time. What I'm not used to seeing are graves for the stillborn, lives that never started, and yet given a full name. That's not a phenomenon I'm comfortable with.

It was looking at these tombstones that I realised that cemeteries really are places for the living and not the dead. All of these lives that never actually started, buried under headstones carved into the shapes of teddy bears or friendly-looking elephants. Things that could have no possible meaning for the dead, but were all about how the living wanted to remember them.

I also found myself thinking about the economics of death. The dead poor can still have their own graves. What they lack, however, is a headstone. Row after row of graves, with the only mark as to who lay there being a simple bakelite plaque on a metal post. In one case, it was obvious what had been done: the friends of the dead had attempted to give him a little extra dignity, and provide him with his own stone. Pushed into the soil behind his plaque was a single paving slab, straight from the builders merchants. Poor sod.

Enough of that. Here are my letters:

[ahecht]

Well, I found my blessing for Vic. I'm sure Vic brought happiness to many people throughout his life, so he should be remembered for that. The tombstone of THOMAS LEWIS anagrams to "O, WHAT SMILES".

How am I sure that this is perfect for Vic? Well, THOMAS LEWIS also anagrams to "OW, I'M HATLESS", which was probably Vic's last thought.

As for a curse, the best I could come up with was "OLNEY E. CHASE" to "A NOSEY LEECH". I had another one that anagrammed into "KINK'S A KNICKER NOSH", but I'm not sure what that means.

EDIT: the first email actually got a somewhat customized version of the standard form letter:

Quote:

From: smallfavorsSPLATlastcallpoker.com Sent: Tuesday, October 11, 2005 11:33 PM To: ahecht Subject: Oh, What Smiles Indeed! Thanks for doing me a small favor and for bringing a smile to an old man's face. The living forget, but the dead remember. I will remember what you've done for me. You'll be getting a little something from me, a mark of my appreciation for everyone to see. Thanks again. It means a lot to me. Lucky

[Jolie]

I'll volunteer for helping Vic's hat around the world -- I'm in Japan. Should be a nice picture, if I can find a groovy temple or castle or something as a backdrop.

Maybe we could send it California --> New Zealand --> Japan --> Onward?

[krystyn]

Kink's a knicker nosh is freaking awesome.

Also, please remember to PM konamouse directly to be included in the hat tour. See the hat thread for details and updates.

[MageSteff]

Nicely Played