A Peek into a Mind

Need to submit a mini-campaign for zippo tomorrow. This post will only list links and stuff caught my eye.

Zippo
Official Zippo fun facts
Zippo Tricks
Ziplomat
Zippo quick facts
Zippo Lighter Uses (out of (this site)

If you were a zippo lighter, where would you be? If you belonged to me and aren’t in my jacket pockets or other obvious places.

zippo girl
one night down in Newport, dave saw me pull out my zippo and said something along the lines of ‘whoa! a girl with a zippo!’ yeah, and i know what to do with it, too. there’s something very satisfying about the weight of a zippo, the flip, snap, snick of using it.

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The Zippo
I stood there silently looking down at the object in my hand; shiny, engraved and treasured. It was my father’s Zippo lighter. My mother had given it to me when he died in 1978, a young man just 57 years old. I squeezed it in my palm and let the cool metal take me back, back, back to a time when something so simple could be so exciting and special. The Zippo had always been my wish.

My father was a tall, dark and very handsome man. A man of few words and fewer if you ask questions. He was a nice man, very kind considerate and well liked through out the entire community. He was a “man’s man”. He hunted, fished, plowed the field with mules and hauled logs in winter to feed us. There were 7 of us. One more was born after me but didn’t make it. He would always be missed by me for his death made me the baby by default. That wasn’t always the best position to be in when trouble was brewing. Too many older ones saying with pointed finger and scowling brow ” she did it ! “

But, the main thing about my father I loved was his Zippo lighter. How it intrigued me. It haunted me, it transfixed me, it inspired me. It owned me. I can close my eyes tonight and smell the Ronson fluid he filled it with, see the tiny flints that he put in to make it strike. I loved the smell of it. I loved the feel of it, I loved the look of it, but mostly I loved the thought of someday owning it. I knew someday it would be mine, just as sure as I was born it was mine.

But the most magic thing was the sound of it. That “Click” when he shut it. I lived for that. It was as much a part of my daddy as his hair, his skin, his breathe. It was a part of him. The Zippo and the red pack Pall Mall’s that in the South we called ” Pell Mell’s”

They were my daddy. He carried them in his left shirt pocket and they were always visible to me in every scene in my life. Each time and moment in space that captures my attention I see the pack and the Zippo. He would cradle it in his hands with such love and tenderness and I knew a special bond would exist with whomever reaped the benefits of owning that lighter some day.

I can see him mending fences and stopping to light a cigarette, the Zippo flirting with the sunlight. I can see him on the front porch at night while the crickets and katydid’s sang; he listening to the ball game on the radio and the flicker of the Zippo in the fleeting darkness. I’m sure there were several Zippo’s in the years of my childhood but they stand out as one and the same. I know there was at least one new one cause mama had it engraved with the initals that they signed their letters to each other with. A.R.T.I . L. O. Y.

or “Always remember that I love only you” Those same initials’s are resting on their double headstone today.

Yes, I was the benefactor of the Zippo, April 15, 1978 when he passed away at the age of 57 an old man. Ha. Or so I thought. Now at 50 he’s not so old. I put the Zippo away along with the Red pack of Pall Mall’s that were in his hospital bed side table when he died. Somehow it just doesn’t seem right to click it or flick it. It doesn’t have the same ring to it anymore. Perhaps it’s something to do with the way you hold it.

Kathalise Martin
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You know one thing I hate about refilling my Zippo? The first time I light it, I usually set something on fire.

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Zippo

I forgot how comforting a Zippo can be. It gives my hands something to do. It smells good. It’s red. It carries memories. It, unlike so many things, is simple and works. Let me say that again. It’s simple. It works. And it lights stuff on fire. From now on I want my life to mimic my Zippo. Simple. Working. Burning stuff. In other news, as soon as I sober up I’m going to get breakfast and fax Verisign one.more.time. Sigh. And wait another few days. That’s the part that kills me. As I’m sure anyone who knows me has caught on by now, I can’t wait. For anything. I hate it. Packages in the mail. Food at a restaurant. Movie releases. Even death will be a bit of a relief ’cause I’ll finally get to know what the fuck happens afterwards. So yeah, I don’t mind jumping through hoops too much, but the waiting kills me. In the mean time I’m going to try and resist the urge to buy another domain name just to have the fucking satisfaction of getting a real domain going on and throwing up the new design. Boy today’s gonna suck. I’ve decided to stay up so as to be able to get up for class tomorrow. Fun.

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