Brief recap:
* Worked late Friday.
* Saturday spent feeling like shit, sleeping, and crying.
* Sunday was bad news, bad news, crying, pottery, and sitting in non-moving el train watching paramedics on the platform treating a guy who'd been (?) stabbed and thrown onto the tracks. There was a lot of blood.
* Today, one ear has decided to get all stuffy, head feels like it's composed primarily of cotton,
and I'm trying to pack and prep for another trip to Minneapolis for work.
I'm trying to get it all in perspective, since, well, I haven't been stabbed or needed emergency medical attention lately (knock wood). More of same. I'm so sick of me.
Showing posts with label Chicago. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chicago. Show all posts
5.25.2009
2.04.2009
GIG ALERT!
I know it's short notice, but I just booked for tomorrow night at Pick a Cup coffeehouse in Evanston. It's about a mile west of the Dempster Purple Line, at 1813 W. Dempster, but there's no cover (tips of course), a good lineup of players (in addition to open mic action should you want to try your hand), and ME! Show starts at 7:30.
I know the weather will be total balls, but it's Chicago (well, Evanston), dammit! It's the Midwest - we laugh in the face of nasty weather! HahahaHA! See you there.
I know the weather will be total balls, but it's Chicago (well, Evanston), dammit! It's the Midwest - we laugh in the face of nasty weather! HahahaHA! See you there.
12.09.2008
Bullet points.
* Yeah, the gov has been arrested. Here's my surprise face. Did anybody think it was anything but a matter of time before this dude was caught in something shady?
* Both The Mayer and Mraz are up for multiple Grammies. Yay!
* The show last night was...a Monday night show. Adding in everyone (Thanks Chris D.!) who showed up on my behalf, we had a total audience of three people. Sweet! Luckily there was bar staff and all the other performers to pad that number a little. I've played to smaller crowds, so this wasn't so bad. The other performers? Jayme Dawicki (piano driven pop with tasty harmonies and really slick arrangements) and Riely O'Connor (good ol' John Prine-y storytelling songwritery goodness!) - yay for funky spellings!
* I'm playing Risque Cafe in Wrigleyville tomorrow night. 9:30. It's free to get in, and they have $2 PBRs. Just saying.
* Also, I'm playing the holiday event at Lake Side Cafe, my fave veggie joint. This is vegetarian food that non-veggies will love; I personally prefer it to Chicago Diner, even. Anyway, the tix for the event are $19 in advance, and worth every penny....plus of course, I'll be playing after dinner.
* The website has been recently updated, with some free holiday mp3s on the front page...plus I posted up a recording of "Ode to an Ass Clown," the meanest, nastiest, cussingest bitter break up song I've ever heard. If you like that sort of thing.
* Both The Mayer and Mraz are up for multiple Grammies. Yay!
* The show last night was...a Monday night show. Adding in everyone (Thanks Chris D.!) who showed up on my behalf, we had a total audience of three people. Sweet! Luckily there was bar staff and all the other performers to pad that number a little. I've played to smaller crowds, so this wasn't so bad. The other performers? Jayme Dawicki (piano driven pop with tasty harmonies and really slick arrangements) and Riely O'Connor (good ol' John Prine-y storytelling songwritery goodness!) - yay for funky spellings!
* I'm playing Risque Cafe in Wrigleyville tomorrow night. 9:30. It's free to get in, and they have $2 PBRs. Just saying.
* Also, I'm playing the holiday event at Lake Side Cafe, my fave veggie joint. This is vegetarian food that non-veggies will love; I personally prefer it to Chicago Diner, even. Anyway, the tix for the event are $19 in advance, and worth every penny....plus of course, I'll be playing after dinner.
* The website has been recently updated, with some free holiday mp3s on the front page...plus I posted up a recording of "Ode to an Ass Clown," the meanest, nastiest, cussingest bitter break up song I've ever heard. If you like that sort of thing.
12.03.2008
Quick note: SHOWS!
So, I'm now rocking two acoustic showcases next week, in case you can't make one.
December 8th @ Silvie's
8:30 p.m. - No Cover (tips)
1902 W. Irving Park
(right off the Irving Park Brown Line stop)
December 10th @ Risque Cafe
9:30 p.m. - No Cover
3419 N. Clark
(right off the Addison Red Line stop)
Come on out, hear some tunes, drink some beers.
I'm also working on getting into Lake Side Cafe's holiday buffet on December 18th ....but that's not confirmed yet. I'll keep you posted.
December 8th @ Silvie's
8:30 p.m. - No Cover (tips)
1902 W. Irving Park
(right off the Irving Park Brown Line stop)
December 10th @ Risque Cafe
9:30 p.m. - No Cover
3419 N. Clark
(right off the Addison Red Line stop)
Come on out, hear some tunes, drink some beers.
I'm also working on getting into Lake Side Cafe's holiday buffet on December 18th ....but that's not confirmed yet. I'll keep you posted.
11.12.2008
This Prop 8 Bullshit.
Okay, Californians, we have got to fucking talk.
First off, I've never been to the West Coast, so I only have media-ratified ideas about your culture and a few secondhand impressions from my city-hating sister and an old roomie who lives in L.A. However, all of this information has led me to believe that y'all were on the cutting edge of social mores. I mean, your Republican governator has actually made statements talking about how he represents all of the people of California, not just the ones who share his beliefs - that's some radical politician talk, there!
When I talk to my rural farmfolk family about social anarchy and radical environmentalism and anti-capitalist, anti-consumerism stuff, you're the people I'm thinking of. You and your awesome climate and your free thinking and your awesome labor movements and your state-regulated medical marijuana and your access to alternative medicine and yoga and various flavors of woo and local food networks and your legal marriage for any two people who want to get married and are over the age of consent. I'm not saying I'm into all the popular weirdness out there (you can keep your fucking colonics thankyouverymuch), but you guys are the people I look to when I think about the social evolutions that could save not only the world itself, but all her beautiful diverse peoples. Hell, in my day-job industry, we hate your state, 'cause every claim is a zillion bucks to the claimant - hello, protecting the people and not the business.
So, when I hear about how over half of you voted to add discrimination and bigotry into your state constitution, I don't know what to say. I mean, how does that fit in with your whole radical agenda, Californians? How the fuck do you reconcile taking the national lead on climate change and immigrant rights, with this kind of hatred? I don't fucking get it.
Which is why, along with probably a substantial portion of the 48% of y'all who have some sense in your damn heads, and hopefully the eloquent Keith Olbermann, and people all over the country, I will be bringing my loud mouth and all my anger to Federal Plaza this Saturday at 12:30 p.m. to let y'all know how crazy I think Prop 8 is.
Chicago folks, hope to see you there. Everyone else, go here to find a protest near you - there's one in every state plus D.C.
First off, I've never been to the West Coast, so I only have media-ratified ideas about your culture and a few secondhand impressions from my city-hating sister and an old roomie who lives in L.A. However, all of this information has led me to believe that y'all were on the cutting edge of social mores. I mean, your Republican governator has actually made statements talking about how he represents all of the people of California, not just the ones who share his beliefs - that's some radical politician talk, there!
When I talk to my rural farmfolk family about social anarchy and radical environmentalism and anti-capitalist, anti-consumerism stuff, you're the people I'm thinking of. You and your awesome climate and your free thinking and your awesome labor movements and your state-regulated medical marijuana and your access to alternative medicine and yoga and various flavors of woo and local food networks and your legal marriage for any two people who want to get married and are over the age of consent. I'm not saying I'm into all the popular weirdness out there (you can keep your fucking colonics thankyouverymuch), but you guys are the people I look to when I think about the social evolutions that could save not only the world itself, but all her beautiful diverse peoples. Hell, in my day-job industry, we hate your state, 'cause every claim is a zillion bucks to the claimant - hello, protecting the people and not the business.
So, when I hear about how over half of you voted to add discrimination and bigotry into your state constitution, I don't know what to say. I mean, how does that fit in with your whole radical agenda, Californians? How the fuck do you reconcile taking the national lead on climate change and immigrant rights, with this kind of hatred? I don't fucking get it.
Which is why, along with probably a substantial portion of the 48% of y'all who have some sense in your damn heads, and hopefully the eloquent Keith Olbermann, and people all over the country, I will be bringing my loud mouth and all my anger to Federal Plaza this Saturday at 12:30 p.m. to let y'all know how crazy I think Prop 8 is.
Chicago folks, hope to see you there. Everyone else, go here to find a protest near you - there's one in every state plus D.C.
11.06.2008
What happened that night...
The night started out with me standing under the horse statue on the corner of Michigan Avenue and Congress Parkway, discussing (at volume, 'cause I'm loud like that) the ridiculous anatomical correctness of the horse's nether regions, while an indie reporter behind me tried to conduct an interview about the historic nature of the evening's proceedings.
Hey, what's ground-breaking history without some obnoxious chick in the background yelling about horse cock?
After that, we shuffled through three different security checkpoints in waves of frantic (and generally polite) Obama supporters. Then through the metal detectors, into a sea of milling and standing people who were all buzzing with excitement over the expected results of the election. CNN was playing on the Jumbotron, Wolf Blitzer recounting results as polls started to close and numbers started trickling in. Projection after projection, broken up by discussion of the Democratic Revolution, or the Generational Shift in Politics, or other equally relevant features of the landscape in American Government. James Carville, oh, how I've missed ye! (He might be on CNN every night, for all I know....I don't have cable.)
I was pleased to see that when CNN cut to commercial, the Jumbotron went to a screensaver and music blared over the loudspeakers. I would've ranted at significant length if they'd run ads at this kind of rally. Phew!
A beachball popped up from somewhere and was batted around the park. When CNN showed the waiting crowd at the park, we all looked out for the cameras, and screamed like lunatics. Time passed; CNN called a few states for McCain - no surprises, and the huge crowd booed anyway.
Then, Wolf Blitzer announced that the polls were about to close in California. Obama, per CNN projections, was at 225 (I think), and the guy behind me says that we'd still need Florida even if California went blue. I turn to him and, using my advanced arithmetic skills, let him know that if Cali goes to Obama, it's over. A countdown clock flashes up on the Jumbotron, as CNN counts down to the last polls closing. The crowd chants along with the numbers.... five.... four... three.... two.... one.
The screen has some kind of explosion graphic, and giant letters scream "CNN PROJECTION: OBAMA WINS!" or something like that. I don't remember it precisely because my brain short-circuited and I was screaming - not yelling, not shouting, screaming at the top of my not inconsiderable lungs. I didn't stop for several minutes.
There were several minutes of excitement - CNN showed Oprah, various crowd reactions, and the iconic shot of Jesse Jackson. It reminded me of his presidential run in 1988, and how I had (at ten years old) much preferred him to Dukakis. I can only imagine how amazing that moment was for him, and I hope he recognizes how much his efforts have contributed to Obama's success now, and I hope he feels vindicated and appreciated and loved. 'Cause I love me some Jesse Jackson.
Then, they showed McCain's concession speech. I was by turns disgusted and encouraged. I saw glimpses in that speech of the man I used to respect, of the John McCain I considered an honorable enemy. I don't know that he'll ever get back my respect, but I hope he really can abandon the divisive rhetoric of the campaign and really get behind President Obama in making this country, and this world, a better place.
Shortly thereafter, they cut CNN and played a pre-recorded segment about the campaign, and how it was all about the people in the trenches and on the ground. The phrase "community organizer" flitted through my head several times. It was a lovely video....and then we got to listen to music for awhile, and stand around wondering what the lineup of speakers would be.
A roadie (do they call them that in politics?) came out and did the last of five or six soundchecks. He said, "Final soundcheck for the next president of the United States," and the crowd lost its collective shit. I cried for the first of many times.
A little while later, there was a prayer from a Reverend of some stripe. It was actually pretty open for a prayer, but one of these days, I'd like to see a truly inclusive blessing at a big political function; something that allows people of all faiths (and no faith) to support the sentiment of a benediction, without having to pay homage to Jesus.
A lovely woman came out and butchered the Star Spangled Banner. I know I'm biased, not only as a singer, but as someone who has sung this particular song for various events, messing up the national anthem happens - sometimes you forget a word, sometimes you mix up a line, it just happens. But. At the fucking victory rally for the next goddamned President of the nation for which the song is the anthem, maybe you sneak a crib sheet onto the fucking podeum so you can get the words right, hey?
And then......then....there he was. Michelle was there, and the girls, and it was the new first fucking family, and it was amazing. After a few minutes of unrepentant cheering, he spoke. I called my sister in Michigan, and put her on speaker so she could listen with me. We were both crying, and I was yelling every now and then, juggling the phone and my camera back and forth. The whole field (felt like the whole world) yelled "Yes we can!" right on cue as he recounted some history, reminding us just how far we've come as a nation...and reminding us obliquely how far we have yet to go.
As the ridiculous crowd left the park when he was done, people were crying and shouting and dancing and singing and carrying signs and celebrating. One dude was high-fiving everyone he met walking along Michigan Avenue. Near the Art Institute, someone had set up a boombox and people were dancing in a huge clump under the watchful eyes of sixty gajillion Chicago cops. Folks were hawking photos and buttons and shirts and towels (hoopy!) every ten steps. I walked slowly, enjoying the undeniable energy of excitement and hope and connection. People were smiling and laughing and dancing and cavorting and connecting, and it was glorious to behold.
At Lake Street, I turned and headed for the Red Line, where I waited for something like six trains before my claustrophobic ass found one non-crowded enough to get on. I rode next to a young white dude with blazing red hair, who was basically harassing a couple black college kids (who were totally handling him beautifully), somehow presuming some kind of connection based on the fact that he'd voted for Obama. When he eventually got off the train, the college kids had one of the most interesting discussions about race and identity politics and privelege that I've ever heard, and I wondered how much of that was because there were no white people talking.
A posse of cops greeted me on the el platform when I got off the train, and another blocked the street below. I'm not sure what to make of that, but I made it home finally.
I'm sure I'm leaving stuff out, but this is what I remember now. I wish I'd had more than a day to get used to the new camera....but I got some relatively decent shots, which you can see here.
I'm hopeful today, and hopeful that that feeling will last. I've been playing "Somewhere Different Now" by Girlyman today, and these lyrics are sticking with me:
Yeah.
Hey, what's ground-breaking history without some obnoxious chick in the background yelling about horse cock?
After that, we shuffled through three different security checkpoints in waves of frantic (and generally polite) Obama supporters. Then through the metal detectors, into a sea of milling and standing people who were all buzzing with excitement over the expected results of the election. CNN was playing on the Jumbotron, Wolf Blitzer recounting results as polls started to close and numbers started trickling in. Projection after projection, broken up by discussion of the Democratic Revolution, or the Generational Shift in Politics, or other equally relevant features of the landscape in American Government. James Carville, oh, how I've missed ye! (He might be on CNN every night, for all I know....I don't have cable.)
I was pleased to see that when CNN cut to commercial, the Jumbotron went to a screensaver and music blared over the loudspeakers. I would've ranted at significant length if they'd run ads at this kind of rally. Phew!
A beachball popped up from somewhere and was batted around the park. When CNN showed the waiting crowd at the park, we all looked out for the cameras, and screamed like lunatics. Time passed; CNN called a few states for McCain - no surprises, and the huge crowd booed anyway.
Then, Wolf Blitzer announced that the polls were about to close in California. Obama, per CNN projections, was at 225 (I think), and the guy behind me says that we'd still need Florida even if California went blue. I turn to him and, using my advanced arithmetic skills, let him know that if Cali goes to Obama, it's over. A countdown clock flashes up on the Jumbotron, as CNN counts down to the last polls closing. The crowd chants along with the numbers.... five.... four... three.... two.... one.
The screen has some kind of explosion graphic, and giant letters scream "CNN PROJECTION: OBAMA WINS!" or something like that. I don't remember it precisely because my brain short-circuited and I was screaming - not yelling, not shouting, screaming at the top of my not inconsiderable lungs. I didn't stop for several minutes.
There were several minutes of excitement - CNN showed Oprah, various crowd reactions, and the iconic shot of Jesse Jackson. It reminded me of his presidential run in 1988, and how I had (at ten years old) much preferred him to Dukakis. I can only imagine how amazing that moment was for him, and I hope he recognizes how much his efforts have contributed to Obama's success now, and I hope he feels vindicated and appreciated and loved. 'Cause I love me some Jesse Jackson.
Then, they showed McCain's concession speech. I was by turns disgusted and encouraged. I saw glimpses in that speech of the man I used to respect, of the John McCain I considered an honorable enemy. I don't know that he'll ever get back my respect, but I hope he really can abandon the divisive rhetoric of the campaign and really get behind President Obama in making this country, and this world, a better place.
Shortly thereafter, they cut CNN and played a pre-recorded segment about the campaign, and how it was all about the people in the trenches and on the ground. The phrase "community organizer" flitted through my head several times. It was a lovely video....and then we got to listen to music for awhile, and stand around wondering what the lineup of speakers would be.
A roadie (do they call them that in politics?) came out and did the last of five or six soundchecks. He said, "Final soundcheck for the next president of the United States," and the crowd lost its collective shit. I cried for the first of many times.
A little while later, there was a prayer from a Reverend of some stripe. It was actually pretty open for a prayer, but one of these days, I'd like to see a truly inclusive blessing at a big political function; something that allows people of all faiths (and no faith) to support the sentiment of a benediction, without having to pay homage to Jesus.
A lovely woman came out and butchered the Star Spangled Banner. I know I'm biased, not only as a singer, but as someone who has sung this particular song for various events, messing up the national anthem happens - sometimes you forget a word, sometimes you mix up a line, it just happens. But. At the fucking victory rally for the next goddamned President of the nation for which the song is the anthem, maybe you sneak a crib sheet onto the fucking podeum so you can get the words right, hey?
And then......then....there he was. Michelle was there, and the girls, and it was the new first fucking family, and it was amazing. After a few minutes of unrepentant cheering, he spoke. I called my sister in Michigan, and put her on speaker so she could listen with me. We were both crying, and I was yelling every now and then, juggling the phone and my camera back and forth. The whole field (felt like the whole world) yelled "Yes we can!" right on cue as he recounted some history, reminding us just how far we've come as a nation...and reminding us obliquely how far we have yet to go.
As the ridiculous crowd left the park when he was done, people were crying and shouting and dancing and singing and carrying signs and celebrating. One dude was high-fiving everyone he met walking along Michigan Avenue. Near the Art Institute, someone had set up a boombox and people were dancing in a huge clump under the watchful eyes of sixty gajillion Chicago cops. Folks were hawking photos and buttons and shirts and towels (hoopy!) every ten steps. I walked slowly, enjoying the undeniable energy of excitement and hope and connection. People were smiling and laughing and dancing and cavorting and connecting, and it was glorious to behold.
At Lake Street, I turned and headed for the Red Line, where I waited for something like six trains before my claustrophobic ass found one non-crowded enough to get on. I rode next to a young white dude with blazing red hair, who was basically harassing a couple black college kids (who were totally handling him beautifully), somehow presuming some kind of connection based on the fact that he'd voted for Obama. When he eventually got off the train, the college kids had one of the most interesting discussions about race and identity politics and privelege that I've ever heard, and I wondered how much of that was because there were no white people talking.
A posse of cops greeted me on the el platform when I got off the train, and another blocked the street below. I'm not sure what to make of that, but I made it home finally.
I'm sure I'm leaving stuff out, but this is what I remember now. I wish I'd had more than a day to get used to the new camera....but I got some relatively decent shots, which you can see here.
I'm hopeful today, and hopeful that that feeling will last. I've been playing "Somewhere Different Now" by Girlyman today, and these lyrics are sticking with me:
Now I don't mind saying, I believe in the waiting
In the visions of grandeur, and the random encounter
I'm not on fire, not burned out
Just somewhere different now
Yeah.
11.05.2008
Morning after.
I'm still tearing up every time I bump into a transcript.
My voice is a couple octaves lower than usual, from all the screaming.
I took almost 300 pictures, but most of them are grainy crowd shots. I'll be posting up the decent shots later today, once I wade in and sort them out.
I am unhappy about a lot of the news out there, especially Prop 8...and I know there's a helluva lotta work yet to be done....
...but for now, I want to bask in the fact that I live in a country that has knocked down yet another barrier to equality. I have a black president.
Hell fucking yes.
ETA: Okay, so upon review, it seems I left the damn USB cable for my camera at home, so I will be unable to multi-slack at the office and weed through the dross for the photo gold (or at least the non-blurry, semi-interesting crowd shots). Typical. I am such a fucking flake sometimes!
Also, shout out to my Michiganders for legalizing medical marijuana and stem cell research. Right on, Mitten!!
My voice is a couple octaves lower than usual, from all the screaming.
I took almost 300 pictures, but most of them are grainy crowd shots. I'll be posting up the decent shots later today, once I wade in and sort them out.
I am unhappy about a lot of the news out there, especially Prop 8...and I know there's a helluva lotta work yet to be done....
...but for now, I want to bask in the fact that I live in a country that has knocked down yet another barrier to equality. I have a black president.
Hell fucking yes.
ETA: Okay, so upon review, it seems I left the damn USB cable for my camera at home, so I will be unable to multi-slack at the office and weed through the dross for the photo gold (or at least the non-blurry, semi-interesting crowd shots). Typical. I am such a fucking flake sometimes!
Also, shout out to my Michiganders for legalizing medical marijuana and stem cell research. Right on, Mitten!!
11.04.2008
An Historic Day.
Today is an historic day. No matter what happens tonight, I feel certain that big changes are afoot; either America will elect its first black president, or I'll be planning my move to Sweden (once I get out of jail after the riots).
My day started out around midnight last night, when the cops woke me up and chased me out of bed to let them into my backyard to search for some fugitives that were apparently making their way through my neighborhood (no idea what they were fugitives of, or what they had done to bring seven cops to my buzzer at midnight). I spent fifteen minutes standing in my bathrobe outside, waiting for them to say the coast was clear (and hearing things like, "Ma'am, please stay back, we don't want you at risk," and "do you have your cell phone on you? you should keep it on you at all times" and similar freak-a-girl-out shit)...and then I went back to bed and spent a few hours jumping at every noise in the apartment. Awesome!
There was about an hour's wait at my polling place this morning, during which time I bounced around to my mp3 player to stay awake. I was the 93rd vote counted in my district. I like to think that's auspicious, since it was '93 when Bill Clinton was inaugurated. Or something.
I voted for Obama, of course, as well as a handful of Dems and a bunch of Greens. I picked and chose a few judges to confirm or not. I considered taking a picture of my ballot, to commemmorate the first time in my life I was able to vote for a non-white presidential candidate...but I thought it better to get my shit done and out of there sooner, so I could let the next voter get on with it. Priorities.
My office is not too far from Grant Park, and I have a ticket to the big rally. I spent more money than I wanted to getting a decent digital camera so I could take craploads of pictures of the event to share with all my loved ones who aren't local or can't make it.
I'm scared to let myself get too hopeful, but when even Karl Rove predicts an Obama landslide, it's hard not to let that little nervous bubble of joy pop up every now and then. I think I am going to be balling like a fucking baby before the night is through.
I'll be posting about the big rally tomorrow. Hopefully my photography skills will do the night's festivities justice.
My day started out around midnight last night, when the cops woke me up and chased me out of bed to let them into my backyard to search for some fugitives that were apparently making their way through my neighborhood (no idea what they were fugitives of, or what they had done to bring seven cops to my buzzer at midnight). I spent fifteen minutes standing in my bathrobe outside, waiting for them to say the coast was clear (and hearing things like, "Ma'am, please stay back, we don't want you at risk," and "do you have your cell phone on you? you should keep it on you at all times" and similar freak-a-girl-out shit)...and then I went back to bed and spent a few hours jumping at every noise in the apartment. Awesome!
There was about an hour's wait at my polling place this morning, during which time I bounced around to my mp3 player to stay awake. I was the 93rd vote counted in my district. I like to think that's auspicious, since it was '93 when Bill Clinton was inaugurated. Or something.
I voted for Obama, of course, as well as a handful of Dems and a bunch of Greens. I picked and chose a few judges to confirm or not. I considered taking a picture of my ballot, to commemmorate the first time in my life I was able to vote for a non-white presidential candidate...but I thought it better to get my shit done and out of there sooner, so I could let the next voter get on with it. Priorities.
My office is not too far from Grant Park, and I have a ticket to the big rally. I spent more money than I wanted to getting a decent digital camera so I could take craploads of pictures of the event to share with all my loved ones who aren't local or can't make it.
I'm scared to let myself get too hopeful, but when even Karl Rove predicts an Obama landslide, it's hard not to let that little nervous bubble of joy pop up every now and then. I think I am going to be balling like a fucking baby before the night is through.
I'll be posting about the big rally tomorrow. Hopefully my photography skills will do the night's festivities justice.
10.21.2008
Seen in Chicago.
(click to see full size)
Saw this modified ad on the way home from work the other day. It made me happy. And also made me want to carry around electrical tape for my own ad mods...hmmm...
9.22.2008
Good things.
My sinuses have rebelled, and I am extracting snot by the bucketful out of my head. I am surrounded by the oh-so-sexy smell of monthol, and my nose could light the way for Santa. Also, apparently I'm glassy-eyed and pasty white (or more so than usual).
In short, I'm sickly, and so today I am writing about good things. I could use the reminder.
First off, I am going to see Girlyman next month. If you're not a fan of them already, and you dig awesome harmonies and alt-folk with bluegrass flavors and tasty lyrics - you should totally check out their stuff. (They're playing Schubas on October 12, in case you're interested.)
Next good thing on my list:
I love someecards!
Moving right along....I love the CTA. I know it's imperfect - I know it's inconsistent and always bogged down with some construction project or other - I know it's blatantly classist and racist, in terms of access and service and cleanliness. But, for all of that, it lets me live car free, and for that it has my love, much like mass transit the world over. (Or, in my case, the country over:)
Next good thing on my list? Tonight is the season premiere of Heroes! I'm not normally a schedule-my-life-around-TV kinda girl, but since I'm sickly anyway, plopping my hiney in front of the tube seems a reasonable way to spend my evening. Woo hoo!
And today's special good thing? A new "Target: Women" from the ass-kicking Sarah Haskins!
In short, I'm sickly, and so today I am writing about good things. I could use the reminder.
First off, I am going to see Girlyman next month. If you're not a fan of them already, and you dig awesome harmonies and alt-folk with bluegrass flavors and tasty lyrics - you should totally check out their stuff. (They're playing Schubas on October 12, in case you're interested.)
Next good thing on my list:
Moving right along....I love the CTA. I know it's imperfect - I know it's inconsistent and always bogged down with some construction project or other - I know it's blatantly classist and racist, in terms of access and service and cleanliness. But, for all of that, it lets me live car free, and for that it has my love, much like mass transit the world over. (Or, in my case, the country over:)
Next good thing on my list? Tonight is the season premiere of Heroes! I'm not normally a schedule-my-life-around-TV kinda girl, but since I'm sickly anyway, plopping my hiney in front of the tube seems a reasonable way to spend my evening. Woo hoo!
And today's special good thing? A new "Target: Women" from the ass-kicking Sarah Haskins!
5.28.2008
FUotD: SBD Guy on the el!!
Typically, the "Fuck You of the Day" involves some national figure or group that has said or done something so terribly offensive that my brain can only just manage to kick out the words "Fuck You" in response. Today, however, we have a new kind of FUotD.
Hey, dude who farted right in my face on the goddamn el last night: FUCK YOU!!
Seriously, this dude ripped a truly foul SBD, with his ass mere inches from my nose. How rude is that shit??
For those unfamiliar with riding a CTA train, in a typical car there are four sets of seats that run parallel to the walls of the train, all of them abutting partitions that outline the doors of the car. The partitions are half metal (or possibly some sort of wood veneer?), half glass, with an open space of about ten inches between the two sections. Often, as the train fills up, people will lean their backs against the partition...if you happen to be sitting in one of the seats next to the partition - depending on the height of the person leaning on it - you may just be eye to asshole with a total stranger. Needless to say, ripping a fart in those circumstances is almost like shitting on someone's dinner plate.
So last night, I was on a pre-Cubs-game crowded train, and took the seat right next to one of the partitions. I tilted my head back against the wall behind me (thank gods I didn't lean against the partition itself - yikes!), and commenced snoozing. All went well while we were underground - Cubs fans got on at every stop, and a bunch who'd clearly been having some pre-game drinkies along Rush Street got on at Chicago and stood in the door areas, leaning against the partition. No worries so far....but then a few stops later, just as we were pulling away from Belmont....my nose detected something that was....just....not....right.
My eyes started watering, and I almost gagged. It smelled like this guy had opened a bag of sun-baked-decomposing-roadkill flavored potato chips in his pants!! I wanted to tap him on the shoulder and suggest he try a little fiber or something, 'cause DAYAM his bowels must surely be rotting from the inside out! I hurriedly tucked my nose into my sweater and managed to not suffocate in the methane cloud that had enveloped my head. A few seconds later, at Addison, the guilty party and his gaggle of friends traipsed off the train, leaving behind the ghost of a horrific and vomitous smell, not to mention me, fighting not to choke and/or puke.
It would not have been hard to turn around and aim that shit into some free space, or at least somewhere there wasn't a nose at ass level. Hell, it was only a couple minutes to Addison, where this dude could have ripped it in the open air....but NO, he had to send his nasty express mail right up my nostrils!!
I know everybody farts, man. It happens. It's natural and unavoidable, and I am not one of those prissy people who thinks farts only belong in bathrooms or when you're totally alone. Farts happen, and I get that. But. I also think that it's not all that hard to hold an awareness of where I'm farting, and try to avoid blowing a stinker right in someone's face.
So, yeah, dude, FUCK YOU. And may I suggest you try some Colon Blow?
Hey, dude who farted right in my face on the goddamn el last night: FUCK YOU!!
Seriously, this dude ripped a truly foul SBD, with his ass mere inches from my nose. How rude is that shit??
For those unfamiliar with riding a CTA train, in a typical car there are four sets of seats that run parallel to the walls of the train, all of them abutting partitions that outline the doors of the car. The partitions are half metal (or possibly some sort of wood veneer?), half glass, with an open space of about ten inches between the two sections. Often, as the train fills up, people will lean their backs against the partition...if you happen to be sitting in one of the seats next to the partition - depending on the height of the person leaning on it - you may just be eye to asshole with a total stranger. Needless to say, ripping a fart in those circumstances is almost like shitting on someone's dinner plate.
So last night, I was on a pre-Cubs-game crowded train, and took the seat right next to one of the partitions. I tilted my head back against the wall behind me (thank gods I didn't lean against the partition itself - yikes!), and commenced snoozing. All went well while we were underground - Cubs fans got on at every stop, and a bunch who'd clearly been having some pre-game drinkies along Rush Street got on at Chicago and stood in the door areas, leaning against the partition. No worries so far....but then a few stops later, just as we were pulling away from Belmont....my nose detected something that was....just....not....right.
My eyes started watering, and I almost gagged. It smelled like this guy had opened a bag of sun-baked-decomposing-roadkill flavored potato chips in his pants!! I wanted to tap him on the shoulder and suggest he try a little fiber or something, 'cause DAYAM his bowels must surely be rotting from the inside out! I hurriedly tucked my nose into my sweater and managed to not suffocate in the methane cloud that had enveloped my head. A few seconds later, at Addison, the guilty party and his gaggle of friends traipsed off the train, leaving behind the ghost of a horrific and vomitous smell, not to mention me, fighting not to choke and/or puke.
It would not have been hard to turn around and aim that shit into some free space, or at least somewhere there wasn't a nose at ass level. Hell, it was only a couple minutes to Addison, where this dude could have ripped it in the open air....but NO, he had to send his nasty express mail right up my nostrils!!
I know everybody farts, man. It happens. It's natural and unavoidable, and I am not one of those prissy people who thinks farts only belong in bathrooms or when you're totally alone. Farts happen, and I get that. But. I also think that it's not all that hard to hold an awareness of where I'm farting, and try to avoid blowing a stinker right in someone's face.
So, yeah, dude, FUCK YOU. And may I suggest you try some Colon Blow?
4.29.2008
The Month of Tari!
I declare the normally lusty month of May....the Official Month of Tari! Why? I'm so glad you asked!
Firstly, May is the month that holds the day that marks the thirtieth anniversary of my arrival on this fair planet. If I was a furniture store or a bazillion dollar multi-national corporation, I would mark this with stock dividends and a reception with balloons, or possibly awesome prices on bedroom ensembles. Sadly, I think balloons are overrated, haven't gone public yet, and likewise keep my bedroom ensembles (and any related prices), er, in my bedroom. So, I have to find other ways to celebrate the inauguration of my third decade. My solution: take a whole month!
My next reason for making May the Month of Tari? It's just got so many cool things going on. The premiere of America the Beautiful, the Chicago Green Festival (more on that in a later entry), Looptopia (an all night festival that just *happens* to coincide with the dates of Beltane - interesting, innit?), not even to mention the awesome food activism class I'm teaching with the amazing Jennifer Byers starts up (have you registered yet? what're you waiting for?).
In addition, May is a family-oriented month for me. My mom is coming down for our annual joint Mother's Day/Birthday celebration, and then later in the month, I'm going home for a baby shower for one sister...and to finally meet the new nephew (well, and see his mom and all my other family that live in those parts, too). I'm finally done moving, and now I have time to procrastinate from the unpacking by doing family stuff. Very exciting!
Finally, and I can't stress this one enough, May is my birthday month. I will be turning 30. I will be doing really nice things for myself (can you say spa day?), reminding myself that I'm worth splurging on (can you say tattoo?), and then throwing myself a big drunken bash with as many of my favorite people as I can convince to come out and listen to me play some tunage and then drink my weight in tequila!
So...should you choose to join me in celebrating the Month of Tari, you have a few options. You could go see America the Beautiful and support an indie director doing great work I admire and support. You could donate to Greenpeace's MusicWood program. You could join the ACLU or the ONE Campaign. You could write to the Anti-Advertising Agency for some awesome "You Don't Need This" stickers, and go engage in some activist graffiti. Or, you could come get a new tattoo with me...all awesome acts of celebration in the Month of Tari. (Which, technically, doesn't start for another two days. Consider this advance notice!)
Firstly, May is the month that holds the day that marks the thirtieth anniversary of my arrival on this fair planet. If I was a furniture store or a bazillion dollar multi-national corporation, I would mark this with stock dividends and a reception with balloons, or possibly awesome prices on bedroom ensembles. Sadly, I think balloons are overrated, haven't gone public yet, and likewise keep my bedroom ensembles (and any related prices), er, in my bedroom. So, I have to find other ways to celebrate the inauguration of my third decade. My solution: take a whole month!
My next reason for making May the Month of Tari? It's just got so many cool things going on. The premiere of America the Beautiful, the Chicago Green Festival (more on that in a later entry), Looptopia (an all night festival that just *happens* to coincide with the dates of Beltane - interesting, innit?), not even to mention the awesome food activism class I'm teaching with the amazing Jennifer Byers starts up (have you registered yet? what're you waiting for?).
In addition, May is a family-oriented month for me. My mom is coming down for our annual joint Mother's Day/Birthday celebration, and then later in the month, I'm going home for a baby shower for one sister...and to finally meet the new nephew (well, and see his mom and all my other family that live in those parts, too). I'm finally done moving, and now I have time to procrastinate from the unpacking by doing family stuff. Very exciting!
Finally, and I can't stress this one enough, May is my birthday month. I will be turning 30. I will be doing really nice things for myself (can you say spa day?), reminding myself that I'm worth splurging on (can you say tattoo?), and then throwing myself a big drunken bash with as many of my favorite people as I can convince to come out and listen to me play some tunage and then drink my weight in tequila!
So...should you choose to join me in celebrating the Month of Tari, you have a few options. You could go see America the Beautiful and support an indie director doing great work I admire and support. You could donate to Greenpeace's MusicWood program. You could join the ACLU or the ONE Campaign. You could write to the Anti-Advertising Agency for some awesome "You Don't Need This" stickers, and go engage in some activist graffiti. Or, you could come get a new tattoo with me...all awesome acts of celebration in the Month of Tari. (Which, technically, doesn't start for another two days. Consider this advance notice!)
2.17.2005
Decisions, decisions.
So, my weekend of frolicking in the wilds of Missouri was lovely. I spent the weekend not thinking about the Big Things Afoot, which actually suited me pretty darn well. I drummed, I danced, I sang, I embraced my morning-person-ness and drank waaaaaaay too much coffeee and ate waaaaaaaay too much good food and talked-talked-talked to so many cool people. It was a really good time.
The interesting thing is that I went down expecting to pick up a djembe and really rock out. Oddly enough, after working with frame drums, djembes, and doumbeks...the frame drum is the one I find myself digging the most. It felt completely natural to me....whereas with the djembe, I felt like I suddenly had an extra arm I wasn't sure what to do with. I think, with enough practice, i could probably get the doumbek thing going....but I hereby abandon (for the moment) any aspirations to being a djembe drummer.
(Aside: I apologize for all the drum names, which may mean nothing to you if you're not up on your hand drum terminology....if it helps, wherever you see "frame drum," "djembe," or "doumbek," just mentally insert "funky hand drum type thing.")
Anyway, so, yeah, I was (and am) totally enamored of the frame drum....which actually also makes me want to go ahead and get those bodhran lessons I was contemplating...
The best part is that Monday night, when the band cancelled rehearsal due to sickliness, I wandered over to Guitar Center to get strings-n-picks, and happened to peek into the drum section to see if there was anything interesting, and wouldn't you know? They happened to have one single, solitary frame drum. On sale for $15.
Needless to say, I went ahead and picked it up and am now happily annoying my landlord practicing every night.
So. Here's the deal: my sister offered me a chance to move with her to North Carolina, live rent free, help her take care of her dogs and her home, so I could go back to college.
It's a really generous offer, and one that appeals to me on many levels - I'd get to leave the corporate world and immerse myself in learning, with the wisdom of several (many?) years in the "real world" to help me, and without many of the issues I carried with me when I went to college right after high school; I'd get to live with my sister, arguably the person I am closest to in the whole world; I'd wind up with more free time to devote to music and spirituality; I'd get chances I might not otherwise get - internships, deep study opportunities, projects, networking, all the thigns that come with college life.
Perhaps the most attractive thing I'd get, though, is a chance to re-shape my life, to bring what i do every day more into line with my values, beliefs, and desires.
Of course, this wouldn't be without downsides. I'd have to leave Chicago, a city I love and have been - despite the restlessness - looking forward to developing some roots in; I'd have to let go of my work in (this) community; I'd have to resign myself to more long-distance friendships and to having to build new friendship relationships; I'd have to abandon the band, thus wasting all of our hard work over the past six months - and take a chance that I'd find such a good group of people in North Carolina; I'd have to accept losing some of my independence by living under my sister's roof, and deal with the fact that I wouldn't necessarily be providing for myself in the way that I do now...which might be a tough adjustment for a stubborn bitch like mois.
So, to re-cap: The Pros & Cons
North Carolina Chicago
School Sister
No corporate job More free time
New challenge Less independence
Car Community
Suburban environment Friends
Band
Storytelling
City environment
CTA
Stable job
Eeek. What a decision.
Right now....I'm thinking there must be a way to get the best of both worlds, a way to get the life-changing opportunity without having to sacrifice the thigns I've come to hold so dear that are here in Chicago. The biggest question is, I think, how can I find time and money to do all the stuff I want to do?
Of course, nobody's ever had to answer that question, ever. I'm so original sometimes.
The interesting thing is that I went down expecting to pick up a djembe and really rock out. Oddly enough, after working with frame drums, djembes, and doumbeks...the frame drum is the one I find myself digging the most. It felt completely natural to me....whereas with the djembe, I felt like I suddenly had an extra arm I wasn't sure what to do with. I think, with enough practice, i could probably get the doumbek thing going....but I hereby abandon (for the moment) any aspirations to being a djembe drummer.
(Aside: I apologize for all the drum names, which may mean nothing to you if you're not up on your hand drum terminology....if it helps, wherever you see "frame drum," "djembe," or "doumbek," just mentally insert "funky hand drum type thing.")
Anyway, so, yeah, I was (and am) totally enamored of the frame drum....which actually also makes me want to go ahead and get those bodhran lessons I was contemplating...
The best part is that Monday night, when the band cancelled rehearsal due to sickliness, I wandered over to Guitar Center to get strings-n-picks, and happened to peek into the drum section to see if there was anything interesting, and wouldn't you know? They happened to have one single, solitary frame drum. On sale for $15.
Needless to say, I went ahead and picked it up and am now happily annoying my landlord practicing every night.
So. Here's the deal: my sister offered me a chance to move with her to North Carolina, live rent free, help her take care of her dogs and her home, so I could go back to college.
It's a really generous offer, and one that appeals to me on many levels - I'd get to leave the corporate world and immerse myself in learning, with the wisdom of several (many?) years in the "real world" to help me, and without many of the issues I carried with me when I went to college right after high school; I'd get to live with my sister, arguably the person I am closest to in the whole world; I'd wind up with more free time to devote to music and spirituality; I'd get chances I might not otherwise get - internships, deep study opportunities, projects, networking, all the thigns that come with college life.
Perhaps the most attractive thing I'd get, though, is a chance to re-shape my life, to bring what i do every day more into line with my values, beliefs, and desires.
Of course, this wouldn't be without downsides. I'd have to leave Chicago, a city I love and have been - despite the restlessness - looking forward to developing some roots in; I'd have to let go of my work in (this) community; I'd have to resign myself to more long-distance friendships and to having to build new friendship relationships; I'd have to abandon the band, thus wasting all of our hard work over the past six months - and take a chance that I'd find such a good group of people in North Carolina; I'd have to accept losing some of my independence by living under my sister's roof, and deal with the fact that I wouldn't necessarily be providing for myself in the way that I do now...which might be a tough adjustment for a stubborn bitch like mois.
So, to re-cap: The Pros & Cons
North Carolina Chicago
School Sister
No corporate job More free time
New challenge Less independence
Car Community
Suburban environment Friends
Band
Storytelling
City environment
CTA
Stable job
Eeek. What a decision.
Right now....I'm thinking there must be a way to get the best of both worlds, a way to get the life-changing opportunity without having to sacrifice the thigns I've come to hold so dear that are here in Chicago. The biggest question is, I think, how can I find time and money to do all the stuff I want to do?
Of course, nobody's ever had to answer that question, ever. I'm so original sometimes.
10.07.2004
Today's politics.
The Chicago Transit Authority (and no, I don't mean the band) is in bad shape right now. If you're a Chicago local, please check out Keep Chicagoland Moving and find out how you can help the CTA get the funding it needs to continue to provide mass transit as an alternative to traffic congestion, road rage, air pollution, and outrageous parking fees.
As I was reading the 161 page budget report for the CTA, it suddenly occured to me that once we get Bush outta the White House, there are still going to be so many issues that need support and attention, like the CTA's budget crisis. I've always been a political sort, but I've never really been politically *active* other than casting my vote whenever possible and doing my best to stay informed. Now, though, I really want to open up the channels of communication between me and my government. I want those folks I cast my vote for to know what I, personally, think, and I want to let them know when something is important to me. That's a whole new kind of politics for me....and I think I like it. It makes me feel like I'm engaging with my world, and trying to contribute some change for the better.
Next? Pre-snowfall park cleanups? Recycling outreach? Who knows. Kind of exciting thinking about it, though, isn't it?
I was thinking about the community I'm in - specifically about politics and how they relate to community. Politics are (obviously) becoming more and more present in my life, and I really feel like being politically aware helps me to integrate my values into my everyday life. Not to mention that governmental policy has a big effect on my life (for example, Dubya's brilliant economic policies have led to cuts in my health insurance and higher deductibles and co-pays, as well as his manuevering against reproductive rights and religious tolerance having an impact on my opportunities), and that makes it important to me.
So, for me, being politically active is a way to live by my values, or try to. Expressing myself politically is expressing myself spiritually, if that makes sense.
Community, to me, is a group of like-minded individuals who choose to come together for the enjoyment of each other's company, and to co-create the shared environment and circumstances they all want to share - or at least that's how *I* see community. I mean, when you and a friend go to a movie, you both want to see the movie, and you want to enjoy each other's company....so by going together, you create circumstances where both of those criteria are met. Larger communities, though infinitely more complex in their aims and interactions, are basically created for the same reason. Why do you choose to spend time with any group? Because you like the people, and you like the activities (or sometimes just one or the other, but ideally, it's both).
The community I'm part of here in Chicago is brought together by shared interests in the Reclaiming tradition, in earth-based spirituality, in the amazing connections that can be formed between people and the elements and the earth and divinity, in the joy of sharing those connective experiences, in committing to deep personal work that can help individuals contribute to community in a healthy manner, and the fact that we really like hanging out together. (I'm over-simplifying for the sake of space....there are too many other reasons we come together to name all of them.) So, we work together to create opportunities to express our shared values in classes, in rituals, in meetings, in outings. Do politics fit in this model?
Let's first look at the larger community we're talking about - why do "we, the people" live in these united states anyway? Why have nearly all the peoples of the world come together in these vast nations, formed governments, and all decided to live by the same set of rules, or slight variations thereof? And what, specifically, keeps the community of the U.S.A. still a community?
Right, so back to the history. Pilgrims showed up here, fleeing religious persecution and seeking freedom. Convicts, tobacco farmers, merchants, explorers, people who needed a fresh start all came here over the years. England put her stamp on the coastline and bossed the colonies around for awhile...and then the people who were here revolted, banded together, and formed their own community, where freedom was important, where every man (at the time, it was every white man who owned land....thank goodness we've evolved) had a right to voice his opinion and have a say in how he was governed. Now, in my opinion, every other law and statute and guideline comes from those two concepts: I am free, and I have a right to a say in how I can express that freedom.
Set aside all the other resultant bullshit because mankind is such a flawed species - set aside corporate behemoths and tricksy politicians and corrupt legal systems and environmental irresponsibility....set aside all that stuff for just a minute and reflect on the beauty and simplicity of those two statements.
I am free, and I have a right to a say in how I can express that freedom.
God, I fucking LOVE this country!
Pardon my digression. Back to the smeat.
So, yeah, this community, this country, came together to support those two ideas, and everything else we've done has been related to those two ideas. Because we're human, we've often lost the message, but it's still in there if you look for it, and that's what makes this place great - the fact that you still can exercise that basic principle.
So, how can I - and should I? - integrate the intentions, the purposes of these two communities? And how does my individual self fit into that picture?
Ye gods, my head hurts. To be continued....
As I was reading the 161 page budget report for the CTA, it suddenly occured to me that once we get Bush outta the White House, there are still going to be so many issues that need support and attention, like the CTA's budget crisis. I've always been a political sort, but I've never really been politically *active* other than casting my vote whenever possible and doing my best to stay informed. Now, though, I really want to open up the channels of communication between me and my government. I want those folks I cast my vote for to know what I, personally, think, and I want to let them know when something is important to me. That's a whole new kind of politics for me....and I think I like it. It makes me feel like I'm engaging with my world, and trying to contribute some change for the better.
Next? Pre-snowfall park cleanups? Recycling outreach? Who knows. Kind of exciting thinking about it, though, isn't it?
I was thinking about the community I'm in - specifically about politics and how they relate to community. Politics are (obviously) becoming more and more present in my life, and I really feel like being politically aware helps me to integrate my values into my everyday life. Not to mention that governmental policy has a big effect on my life (for example, Dubya's brilliant economic policies have led to cuts in my health insurance and higher deductibles and co-pays, as well as his manuevering against reproductive rights and religious tolerance having an impact on my opportunities), and that makes it important to me.
So, for me, being politically active is a way to live by my values, or try to. Expressing myself politically is expressing myself spiritually, if that makes sense.
Community, to me, is a group of like-minded individuals who choose to come together for the enjoyment of each other's company, and to co-create the shared environment and circumstances they all want to share - or at least that's how *I* see community. I mean, when you and a friend go to a movie, you both want to see the movie, and you want to enjoy each other's company....so by going together, you create circumstances where both of those criteria are met. Larger communities, though infinitely more complex in their aims and interactions, are basically created for the same reason. Why do you choose to spend time with any group? Because you like the people, and you like the activities (or sometimes just one or the other, but ideally, it's both).
The community I'm part of here in Chicago is brought together by shared interests in the Reclaiming tradition, in earth-based spirituality, in the amazing connections that can be formed between people and the elements and the earth and divinity, in the joy of sharing those connective experiences, in committing to deep personal work that can help individuals contribute to community in a healthy manner, and the fact that we really like hanging out together. (I'm over-simplifying for the sake of space....there are too many other reasons we come together to name all of them.) So, we work together to create opportunities to express our shared values in classes, in rituals, in meetings, in outings. Do politics fit in this model?
Let's first look at the larger community we're talking about - why do "we, the people" live in these united states anyway? Why have nearly all the peoples of the world come together in these vast nations, formed governments, and all decided to live by the same set of rules, or slight variations thereof? And what, specifically, keeps the community of the U.S.A. still a community?
Right, so back to the history. Pilgrims showed up here, fleeing religious persecution and seeking freedom. Convicts, tobacco farmers, merchants, explorers, people who needed a fresh start all came here over the years. England put her stamp on the coastline and bossed the colonies around for awhile...and then the people who were here revolted, banded together, and formed their own community, where freedom was important, where every man (at the time, it was every white man who owned land....thank goodness we've evolved) had a right to voice his opinion and have a say in how he was governed. Now, in my opinion, every other law and statute and guideline comes from those two concepts: I am free, and I have a right to a say in how I can express that freedom.
Set aside all the other resultant bullshit because mankind is such a flawed species - set aside corporate behemoths and tricksy politicians and corrupt legal systems and environmental irresponsibility....set aside all that stuff for just a minute and reflect on the beauty and simplicity of those two statements.
I am free, and I have a right to a say in how I can express that freedom.
God, I fucking LOVE this country!
Pardon my digression. Back to the smeat.
So, yeah, this community, this country, came together to support those two ideas, and everything else we've done has been related to those two ideas. Because we're human, we've often lost the message, but it's still in there if you look for it, and that's what makes this place great - the fact that you still can exercise that basic principle.
So, how can I - and should I? - integrate the intentions, the purposes of these two communities? And how does my individual self fit into that picture?
Ye gods, my head hurts. To be continued....
7.02.2004
Journalism: a noble profession in pursuit of (flexible) truth.
Dude!!!
I was in the paper: (the link isn't up any longer....'cause it's very old!).
But then come back, so I can give you the backstory and you can see how the press really works.
So, what happened is, me and my darling friends K and J meet up at the skating rink in Millenium Park (which is this huge, ridiculously expensive park that Chicago is curently building...I can't decide if it's revolutionary and cool, or just an eyesore). As we're walking over to find a spot to sit in some shade (as it was one of our recent warm and sunny days - a nice contrast from the freakin' cold-and-rainy shit we've had for moooooonths now), a reporter comes up to the three of us and asks us about a particular piece of sculpture in the park that has just been officially named by its creator.
The name was "Cloud Gate" and the reporter asked us what we thought of that name.
We all agreed it was an odd name for a sculpture that looked like a giant stainless steel coffee bean, but that it was more poetic than calling it "the bean," which is what local vernacular has dubbed it this far. J said maybe it was a "Jack and the Beanstalk" reference. I said that no matter what it was called "officially," people would call it "the bean" anyway.
Then the reporter mentions that it sounded like some sort of scandal, a la Watergate.
The three of us laughed, and I said, "Well, considering how much this park's costing, it's not out of the question." They took our pictures, got our names and info, and we went on our merry way.
The next morning, I was greeted by a co-worker who had a copy of the Sun Times to show me. Basically, I come off sounding like some sort of conspiracy theorist, and the only quotes he included from J and K were "lovely" and "really pretty." Needless to say, we were all surprised at how the story characterized things - basically, the reporter lead us to the angle he was looking for, then got one of us to say something he could quote to support his premise....which is fine, but a slight bending of the truth.
And people wonder why everybody mis-trusts the media...
I was in the paper: (the link isn't up any longer....'cause it's very old!).
But then come back, so I can give you the backstory and you can see how the press really works.
So, what happened is, me and my darling friends K and J meet up at the skating rink in Millenium Park (which is this huge, ridiculously expensive park that Chicago is curently building...I can't decide if it's revolutionary and cool, or just an eyesore). As we're walking over to find a spot to sit in some shade (as it was one of our recent warm and sunny days - a nice contrast from the freakin' cold-and-rainy shit we've had for moooooonths now), a reporter comes up to the three of us and asks us about a particular piece of sculpture in the park that has just been officially named by its creator.
The name was "Cloud Gate" and the reporter asked us what we thought of that name.
We all agreed it was an odd name for a sculpture that looked like a giant stainless steel coffee bean, but that it was more poetic than calling it "the bean," which is what local vernacular has dubbed it this far. J said maybe it was a "Jack and the Beanstalk" reference. I said that no matter what it was called "officially," people would call it "the bean" anyway.
Then the reporter mentions that it sounded like some sort of scandal, a la Watergate.
The three of us laughed, and I said, "Well, considering how much this park's costing, it's not out of the question." They took our pictures, got our names and info, and we went on our merry way.
The next morning, I was greeted by a co-worker who had a copy of the Sun Times to show me. Basically, I come off sounding like some sort of conspiracy theorist, and the only quotes he included from J and K were "lovely" and "really pretty." Needless to say, we were all surprised at how the story characterized things - basically, the reporter lead us to the angle he was looking for, then got one of us to say something he could quote to support his premise....which is fine, but a slight bending of the truth.
And people wonder why everybody mis-trusts the media...
6.29.2004
I heart Chicago.
Some things I love about Chicago:
Eclecticity
This store ROCKS. They carry an amazing spread of (as you'd expect) eclectic merchandise, all of it really cool and totally reasonably priced...plus the owners are amazingly cool people.
vive la femme
This is another store that ROCKS...this time it's a fashion treasure for the big chicks. They have the - bar-none - cutest stuff for big-ass babes. And the decor is fab, too.
Chief O'Neill's Pub
This is a great little pub, a little off the beaten path and thus generally pretty quiet and not too crowded. The bartenders have cute accents, the drinks are reasonable and plentiful, and the decor is worth checking out all on its own.
Tribune Tower
A couple hours wandering around this building, looking at the pieces of various buildings and stones from around the world is part reminiscence, part history lesson, and all cool.
Celtic Fest
Pipes, kilts, and beer. What more could a girl want?
Craig's List
Okay, so I know this isn't specifically a Chicago thing, but I love it and I spent most of my time on the Chicago part of it at the moment, so whatever....craigslist rocks! I've found apartments, roommates, musical collaboraters, theater connections, parties, events, classes, and concerts...all on craigslist.
The Davis Theater
This theater is in the Lincoln Square neighborhood - one of my favorite areas in the city, gratis a fabu German restaurant, the Old Town School of Folk Music, Welles Park, an awesome Greek restaurant, and great shopping - Merz Apothecary, Gallimaufry Gallery, a neat used book store, and so many other cute little shops. The theater itself is really awesome, and you can still see a matinee for the unheard-of price of $5 a head. The link above is to a ladies' room review, which cracks me up - it's actually no longer accurate, as they've remodeled, but it's hilarious anyway. I had to share.
The CTA
The CTA catches a lot of hell for not being a very good mass transit system....but having experienced other cities' systems (including Atlanta, Cleveland, Pittsburgh, New York/Jersey, St. Louis, Miami, Washington D.C., Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Minneapolis/St. Paul), I feel like I can say (with a fair amount of conviction) that the CTA is pretty damn great. Just about anywhere in the city is pretty much accessible just about any time day or night, and the daytime service is actually really good. Service to suburbs isn't bad, and between trains and buses, you can get anywhere you need to go. The CTA lets me live car-free without being stuck at home. It's a beautiful thing.
The Chicago Reader
This pape is the grand-daddy of the free newsweekly. It's so mammoth that I don't know anyone who manages to read the thing in its entirety. Most folks I know read the classifieds and maybe the music/arts section...and even dedicated readers like myself typically only manage to get through two or three of the four sections included in this big boy.
So, those are a few of the things I love about Chicago. There are more, but these will do for now. I should write a guidebook or something.
So, lots of things going on lately. I'm putting together a band, which is exciting and really cool....I have a better idea of what I want and how to accomplish it this time, and also what to avoid, which gives me a good foundation. I'm putting together a voter registration drive for September, to further my personal mission of getting the Shrub out of the White House. I'm working on several website projects, which is fun and exciting and challenging. This weekend is the 4th of July, and my neice and nephew (along with their parents and my mom) are coming down for a few days, which will be great.
There's drama (when is there not?), but I feel confident that it will all work out for the best. Eventually.
I watched "Practical Magic" the other night with my new roomie. There's this one scene, in case you're not familiar, where Aidan Quinn and Sandra Bullock have this very dramatic makeout moment. My roomie goes nuts - "that's not how it happens!" he's saying, with clear derision at Hollywood's propogation of such mythical passion.
Meanwhile, I'm running through the number of similar experiences I've had. As it turns out, I've actually got a few screenworthy kisses under my belt. Go me. (I'd share, but I'm not the kind of girl who kisses and tells.)
Now if only I could translate previous conquests into current success.
Oy vey. I'm such a spinster.
Eclecticity
This store ROCKS. They carry an amazing spread of (as you'd expect) eclectic merchandise, all of it really cool and totally reasonably priced...plus the owners are amazingly cool people.
vive la femme
This is another store that ROCKS...this time it's a fashion treasure for the big chicks. They have the - bar-none - cutest stuff for big-ass babes. And the decor is fab, too.
Chief O'Neill's Pub
This is a great little pub, a little off the beaten path and thus generally pretty quiet and not too crowded. The bartenders have cute accents, the drinks are reasonable and plentiful, and the decor is worth checking out all on its own.
Tribune Tower
A couple hours wandering around this building, looking at the pieces of various buildings and stones from around the world is part reminiscence, part history lesson, and all cool.
Celtic Fest
Pipes, kilts, and beer. What more could a girl want?
Craig's List
Okay, so I know this isn't specifically a Chicago thing, but I love it and I spent most of my time on the Chicago part of it at the moment, so whatever....craigslist rocks! I've found apartments, roommates, musical collaboraters, theater connections, parties, events, classes, and concerts...all on craigslist.
The Davis Theater
This theater is in the Lincoln Square neighborhood - one of my favorite areas in the city, gratis a fabu German restaurant, the Old Town School of Folk Music, Welles Park, an awesome Greek restaurant, and great shopping - Merz Apothecary, Gallimaufry Gallery, a neat used book store, and so many other cute little shops. The theater itself is really awesome, and you can still see a matinee for the unheard-of price of $5 a head. The link above is to a ladies' room review, which cracks me up - it's actually no longer accurate, as they've remodeled, but it's hilarious anyway. I had to share.
The CTA
The CTA catches a lot of hell for not being a very good mass transit system....but having experienced other cities' systems (including Atlanta, Cleveland, Pittsburgh, New York/Jersey, St. Louis, Miami, Washington D.C., Philadelphia, Baltimore, and Minneapolis/St. Paul), I feel like I can say (with a fair amount of conviction) that the CTA is pretty damn great. Just about anywhere in the city is pretty much accessible just about any time day or night, and the daytime service is actually really good. Service to suburbs isn't bad, and between trains and buses, you can get anywhere you need to go. The CTA lets me live car-free without being stuck at home. It's a beautiful thing.
The Chicago Reader
This pape is the grand-daddy of the free newsweekly. It's so mammoth that I don't know anyone who manages to read the thing in its entirety. Most folks I know read the classifieds and maybe the music/arts section...and even dedicated readers like myself typically only manage to get through two or three of the four sections included in this big boy.
So, those are a few of the things I love about Chicago. There are more, but these will do for now. I should write a guidebook or something.
So, lots of things going on lately. I'm putting together a band, which is exciting and really cool....I have a better idea of what I want and how to accomplish it this time, and also what to avoid, which gives me a good foundation. I'm putting together a voter registration drive for September, to further my personal mission of getting the Shrub out of the White House. I'm working on several website projects, which is fun and exciting and challenging. This weekend is the 4th of July, and my neice and nephew (along with their parents and my mom) are coming down for a few days, which will be great.
There's drama (when is there not?), but I feel confident that it will all work out for the best. Eventually.
I watched "Practical Magic" the other night with my new roomie. There's this one scene, in case you're not familiar, where Aidan Quinn and Sandra Bullock have this very dramatic makeout moment. My roomie goes nuts - "that's not how it happens!" he's saying, with clear derision at Hollywood's propogation of such mythical passion.
Meanwhile, I'm running through the number of similar experiences I've had. As it turns out, I've actually got a few screenworthy kisses under my belt. Go me. (I'd share, but I'm not the kind of girl who kisses and tells.)
Now if only I could translate previous conquests into current success.
Oy vey. I'm such a spinster.
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