remote cards

I am waiting for my sandwich to be toasted, when the guy who served me comes to the delivery end of the bar where a girl is making a latte. He is tall, floppy haired, looks incredibly young, though as he gives the girl advice it is clear he is a veteran of this establishment, and she has yet to conquer the latte wall. She is probably only a few years older than him, hair tied back, nose stud, smart/generic black blouse. She does the coffee and prepares to add the milk, no, hold it at this angle, he tells her, down low, touch the surface, that’s how you get it. She follows his instruction carefully, and gets the desired results, see, told you it was easy. She stands there and looks at it and grins, I’d been holding it too high, and that’s how someone else told me how to do it. As she straightens up and does a little victory stretch, her blouse rides up at her waist, providing a flash of colour on her hip, a flower, a lily on a pad, the kind of tattoo you expect her to have a matching one on the other side. She prepares to tip the coffee out, you should take a photo, she shakes her head, its not quite perfect, but a start. You should at least drink it, he tells her, she shakes her, you could add sugar, he suggests. Do you want it, she asks, he doesn't. I’m tempted to say I’ll take it, but don't, and it gets tipped away. He goes back to the toasting machine, takes the next customer's sandwich and puts it in the toaster. Brings mine over on a plate, shouts out that it’s ready, despite the fact I’m standing right in front of him, he looks through me. That’s mine, I say, ok, he replies, you have your drink, he asks, no, it’s on the counter behind you. He grabs it, puts them both on a tray and I go back to join my friends. Sitting down I spot the latte wall, a series of photographs of lattes, each with someone's name penned beneath it. The new girl wanders around, clearing tables, chunky boots, skin tight trousers, no doubt waiting till she is ready to get her latte up there.

Labels: coffee, girl, glasgow, guy, latte, wallet

Across from the cinema there is a corner shop, maybe one of the 24 hour ones, or at least a late night one anyway. A lot of the people who go to the cinema come here to get snacks and drinks, rather than being tied to the over priced brand restricted stuff you can get inside. That’s what I’m doing here, its what the couple in front of me are doing. He has just asked her something about her relationship, to which she responds - it depends on my mood. He is taller than she is, shaven head, a bit stubbly, a smart jacket over totally casual clothes. She is short, wide, long red hair, a skirt and bright red tights. She shrugs when he repeats her words, he adds - that doesn’t sound too good. She laughs, well, I’m thinking about dumping her. But yes, I am that bastard, she says, I’m trying to decide whether I’ll sleep with her one last time before I dump her. He makes a sound, she shrugs, laughs, I am that guy, she says, that bastard we all love to hate.

Labels: cinema, girl, glasgow, guy, hate, love, red head

There is a couple at a table in the outside part of the café, it’s a warm day, we’re sitting out there. He is sprawled. Brown trainers kicked off on to the ground. His legs across a neighbouring chair. Black socks, blue jeans, a t-shirt. He has long hair, straggly, tied back. A beard to match, a dusky, sandy kind of colour. His arms are covered in tattoos, long ones, extending all the way across his hands, right up to the knuckles. He smokes and drawls in conversation, utterly relaxed. She looks a little more “proper” in her manner. A black dress, casual, a red cardigan. Her hair is bobbed, jaw length, straight – like a librarian slash dominatrix. She has a stud in her nose and no apparent tattoos. She leans on the tables, her elbows, seemingly hanging on his every word. She smiles, and laughs when it seems appropriate. They are there for a good while, just hanging out. Till eventually they leave, he cycles by 2 minutes later, that blue vinyl courier bag over his shoulder, absent minded making his way to wherever.

Labels: ars electronica, girl, guy, linz, tattoo

I pass them Saturday night and again on Sunday afternoon. A couple busking, a pair of teenagers, nice respectable looking kids. This afternoon he is wearing a cardigan and jeans. She has shoulder length hair, a green and black checked dress. The skirt has body, ruffled, but then she also seems to be holding it up some. Showing off her knees as though she is trying to be daring. He plays guitar, she sings, and it’s obvious that they are new to this – because they are far too quiet. The quietest buskers ever – you would barely know they were there, even walking by them. Though they do have a handful of coins in the guitar case, so they can’t be that bad? (Unless they put them in there themselves to look convincing?)

Labels: busker, girl, glasgow, guy

A couple walking along the street. She small, dumpy, thick ankles, big cleavage, with out being fat, but hardly dynamic. He finishes telling her a piece of gossip. She then says, I’ll be Batman, you be Robin.
Pardon he says?
I’m Batman, you be Robin, she repeats as though it’s obvious. I am so obviously Batman in this couple, she clarifies as they walk by me and continue up the street.

Labels: batman, girl, glasgow, guy, robin

We are watching Shrink for the 1st time. Three human beings becoming shrink wrapped for an audience. A girl appears, kneeling at the front to take pictures. She has dusky skin, suggesting an Indian heritage. She is slight, bobbed fashionable dark hair, a short black dress, tights, flat shoes. Round her neck she wears...a scarf? It is some kind of three dimentional fashion art object, one almost suspects she fabricated it herself in one of the labs in the Ars Electronica basement. Its streaked with orange chunks, hanging off a black net frame. Its kind of intriguing.

The next day, we are back in the Brucknerhaus, this time for the gig by Carsten Nicolai and Ryoji Ikeda. And there she is again, with her boyfriend. He looks stylish too, that pimped out hipster gangster kind of style - shirt, tie, waistcoat kind of deal. She is wearing a full length skirt, but its kind of a double skirt. The top part, which comes down to mid thigh is solid and black, from there down to the ground it is sheer, black and pretty much transparent, stick legs, and flat sold sandshoes are visible.

After the gig we head to Cubus, the bar at the top of the Ars Electronica, various parties meeting up at the end of the night. One to hit the road, and all that. And there they are, the same couple, sat at the next table from us. I guess thats the nature of events like these, seeing the same people over and over, especially when you have a style as eye catching as hers.

Labels: ars electronica, austria, fashion, gig, girl, guy, holiday, ikeda, linz, noto

Coming up to a road that cuts across the pedestrianised section of Buchanan Street, there are lights at the crossing. Cutting across there is a guy, grey t-shirt, greying blue jeans that are knee length shorts. He is heavy built, short dark hair, trainers, and seems to be holding a conversation. But then, it’s the modern condition, people in the street holding conversations are probably on the phone. His arms swing loose at his side as he shuffles and limps along the curb. Well, ok, maybe its an ear piece, one of those blue tooth things you see inserted their like it’s a physical implant. I hold back from walking to the curb, because if I don’t he will walk into me, as I do so I watch him, checking for the ear phone, but no, he doesn’t have one. He is, in fact, talking to himself, and from the tone he is giving himself a hard time. I watch him pass on his way, a couple along stopping from stepping into his path, similarly they watch, with bemused looks on their faces in response.

Labels: glasgow, guy, talking to self

I’m having a quick bite to eat, sitting by the window, and I glance out the window, which looks out into lane. There is a Chinese guy, coming out a side door – I think there is a Chinese restaurant just at the front. He waves a hand, then holds up a finger – ONE! I glance around, surely he isn’t indicating to me, so who is he? But no one by me even notices him. I glance back, as he approaches the car parked right in front of the window, which is when I realise there is a Chinese girl sitting in it. She gets out and they exchange words. She is dressed in a grey top, long sleeved, with a baggy front, which hangs loose so that you can see that she is a more fitting white top underneath. She is wearing grey black jeans, and brown black cowboy boots. She slips the boots off, leaning against the back door, chucking them into the back seat, as she slips on smart flat soled shoes. Slipping off the lemon yellow socks which she wore with the boots isn’t wearing with the shoes. (This is the second time this weekend I’ve seen a girl changing shoes in the street, something which I’ve actually seen with some frequency – the night before girl was changing from flat soled flip flops, into higher heeled strappy shoes for going out.) Then it’s into the boot, pulling out jackets, a flask, a couple of bars of some kind of Kinder snack, and clutching cinema tickets. A polished metal flask, small sized one, maybe a couple of small cups worth, a curious thing to see someone carrying to the cinema on a summer night. They juggle these between them as they get ready, he watches her pull on a smart black jacket, then she takes the stuff back. He is wearing jeans, with a key chain hanging, and a blue t-shirt with some mass produced design on it, as he pulls the boot of the car down I’m conscious of his biceps, this guy works out. With the chocolate in her pocket, the flask in one hand, tickets in other hand, she exits the alley and heads round corner to cinema. He pulls on his crumpled green jacket, and follows.

Labels: cinema, flask, girl, glasgow, guy, muscle, shoes

She walks passed me as I sit in the street, eating a quick dinner, watching the world go by, before meeting a friend for a film. An Asian girl, wearing a patterned white jacket, with fluffy white collar, contrasted by her long dark hair. But it is the red hand bag and the red trousers that come to just below the knee, the chunky red suede boots, that catch the eye.

After dinner, I go for tea in Borders. Take a window seat and read. A sharp man, pin suited predator, sits with an Asian girl, her hair cut sharp across the fringe. Dressed in black, she contrasts that with a white heart pendant. A second man arrives, also Asian, with the white guy wandering off after he has made introductions between the two. The Asian guy goes for coffees, then the shark returns, another Asian girl in tow. White jacket, red bag, red trousers, red boots. The same girl that had passed me earlier. The two pairs separate to different tables, and conversation takes on the buzz of a first, arranged date. White heart and Asian guy, red bag and pin stripe.

Labels: Asian, bag, borders, dinner, first date, guy, heart, pin stripe, red, tea, White