lovely, lovely quarters!

Quarters are the lifeforce of the laundromat. If you don't have quarters, you don't have clean clothes.

I've always loved quarters. Before I had to do my own laundry (and way before I had to stoop low enough to do it at a coin-op), quarters had one--vastly superior--role: video game tokens.

If you were like me, you couldn't get enough of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles arcade game, or The Simpsons bash-em-up. Actually, I finally beat that damn game not too long ago. That game was almost solely responsible for my (read: my mom's) diminishing quarters.


I know, Bart. I keep fucking losing. Shut up.

U Dun Wanna C: office 00:02:04;06

Nobody really likes video art.

But, to me, it's "cool" and "outrageous" to say I do.

It's even more "outrageous" to make video art.

So here is the first installment of an experimental series, U Dun Wanna C.

They are short and simple pieces of art that take very little talent.

This first one chronicles my average workday.

U Dun Wanna C: office 00:02:04;06 from Zach Lynn on Vimeo.

mmm. fresh clothes. *sniff*

Whenever I ride my bike to the liquor store, I pass by one of the local laundromats.

Depending on the wind (which, most the time, doesn't exist), I can smell the ever so heavenly scent of clean linens almost a block away.

Outdoor laundromats fill the streets with that gorgeous smell.

I've tried to bring that smell home with me (aside from just on my clothes, obviously) in candles and sprays and gel-like wall plugins. They suck.


You suck.

Why can't these super companies get this smell correct? I remember walking by the sorority dorm every Tuesday and Thursday for a night class, and the air was awash with the fresh smell of truly clean laundry.


You are also too expensive. $4? Come on.

Can you tell I'm bored at work? I want to smell some clothes.

lost pets.

After seeing my neighbor's house being broken into by three deadbeats, I'm in the mood to make a depressing post.

Each laundromat I've been to has the ubiquitous corkboard. Want ads. Lost and found. Cleaning services. You know, things tacked all over the place.

But there's always that one piece of paper that actually has some small amount of meaning to it. Some purpose greater than the "OrlandoSingles.com" flyers.

Lost pets.

A lot of times I won't even stop to read these. Maybe I'm callous, but I just skim over them like the rest of the stupid shit posted.

But sometimes when that last spin cycle seems to take extra long--I have to find something to read.

There's an immediate story to each of them. You get the dog's (cat's, bird's, alligator's) name, personality, age, and sometimes a fun anecdote just to help you connect. Really, I've seen some good ones. Maybe there is a company that will write your lost pet flyers for a minimum amount of money.

However, most of them seem to be hastily designed. Fluffikins has been missing for about two hours, Suzy and Stan have scoured the 4 blocks around their bungalow house, and now they need to get the word out to the neighborhood. Every second counts! Every second is one more chance for Fluffikins to wind up under a car.


This was a rush job. But the paper protector gives it permanence to go along with its urgency.

Then others are elaborate. Someone took the time and patience to fire up Photoshop or InDesign to create a perfect piece of advertising. They may as well put a hyperlink to a fully developed website showcasing an effects-heavy video.

These flyers are weird.

But a lot of these miniature stories fall victim to vandalism and graffiti, like most publicly posted documents. Sometimes it can be lighthearted fun (such as adding a mustache to a ginger cat), but then there are assholes that act like assholes just for the sake of being an asshole.


Thank you Mr. I-Know-More-About-Your-Dog-Than-You. Now help them find their impostor Scottie.

a place to think.

There's a lot of downtime at the laundromat.

You sort your clothes (or just throw them all in one machine, like me), add your detergent, quarters, turn some knobs, and close the lid.

Then you have a while to sit around. Or walk around. Or read the black 'zines thrown about. Or pretend you are on your phone to avoid the annoying bum hovering around dryer #4. Where the hell are his clothes, anyway?

A lot of people are forced to use their local public laundry services, and I'm certain they sit there waiting for their clothes to wash and dry thinking, "What else could I be doing right now?"

My answer: start a blog.

So here's to you, local laundromats. All of you Suds Worlds, and Carnival Coins, and (especially you) unnamed coin-op down the street. Once a week you introduce me to my neighbors. And man. They are fucking weird.