This is Not a Nap!

Cranky adults need naps. This is not a nap.

The day began with a towed car, a $160 fee, and missing a bat-mitvah rehearsal that I was supposed to photograph for a cousin due to retrieving said car. The "no parking sign" was tacked to a tree of all things, and obscured by leaves. There were two poles near the tree, but no signs on either... I had parked last night, and hadn't noticed the sign between the leaves. The poles would've been nice. Oh well.

I'm cranky, tired from a long day, being out $160, and not in the mood for a street fest, and drunken crowds, but going to suck it up, and probably be drunk soon, too. I'm a happy drunk, so that's the goal, I guess. Four cool things about today: XRT played "London Calling" on the way to the burbs, and "Landslide" on the way back, a guy on a motorbike on the highway had his dog in tote like Dorothy in Kansas, and once again my aunt, and uncle were a lot of fun to photograph, as were all the teenagers at the party.

Home

A few people, unrelated, over the past few weeks, mentioned that "it's not hard to find you," in reference perhaps- okay, yes, maybe- to my blogging addiction.

When stuff like this happens I tend to cringe inward, and withdraw from "sharing," though I don't stop writing for myself.

But, I'm obviously addicted. So, to the six readers I am aware of, here are a few shots from a recent trip back to the suburb I lived in until I was 10 years old. We lived in a townhouse on a block with tons of other kids, so it was a pretty good time from what I recall, and being prone to sentiment I seem to recall a lot. Ahmed's song, "I'm not a kid anymore," video below, came to mind as we drove out of Hanover Park.

Also pictured is my niece on a hill at an art fair, and a picture of a photo print that I purchased of a pirate type ship headed on choppy waters toward the city. It was $50, and probably too much to spend, but I could not stop staring at it.

The photographer whom took the shot said it was taken maybe 20 years ago, and he was on a small power boat, which has since been sold ("kids," he explained), and the ship which was part of a regatta from Michigan heading toward Chicago just "came out of nowhere."

I liked his story about snapping the picture, and the fact he seemed sentimental as he recalled the story, and wistful about the boat he no longer owns. Today, he wears a land yard with a name tag, and travels the suburban art fair circuit, the pirate ship photo still his best seller all these years later, in the same way a band continually plays its big hits over, and over. It seemed like a pretty slow day at the fair, with thin crowds, and perhaps even thinner pocketbooks, and it just kind of made me wish artists like this photographer could get by a little bit easier, though everyone in almost every industry is probably wishing that same thing right about now.

A Big Event

I actually left Wicker Park. This is some of what we saw, and bought, and ate.

It's Been a Gorilla Glue Morning

With the holiday weekend approaching, and my brother, and his family headed into town, I'd love to finally put "humpty dumpty" back together again.

This table has been in a state of dysfunction since the move, and it still is, despite my half ass efforts this morning. I made coffee, turned on NPR, put on gloves, took a deep breath, dampened both sides, applied Gorilla Glue, clamped, and nothing. Well, not actually nothing, the top of the table slipped off, because none of the metric washer sizes I brought back from the hardware store fit on the leg's screws, so I am back to square one. And done for the day. At least with humpty. I swear I have some real work to do.

Here's a few shots, plus a photo of the wagon wheel wine cart drop leaf table (at bottom, left) in far better times, assembled, with wine in it.



Gorilla Glue and Cats (I'm going to keep a close eye on Koji): http://www.peteducation.com/article.cfm?c=2+1677+1684&aid=3478

Murals Old and New

The Tamale Chica is covering an interesting story behind a Bridgeport mural that was painted over by the city's Graffiti Busters team. Check out this link:

http://tamalechica.blogspot.com/2009/05/destruction-of-bridgeport-mural-and.html

Here are a few shots of new murals located in my neighborhood, which the realtors like to call "West Bucktown." The first, on the side of the Handlebar, was created by a team of artists that worked all weekend a few weekends ago in the courtyard alongside Handlebar at 2311 W. North Ave. Josh of Handlebar told me that his restaurant is not affiliated with the mural, and that if I have any questions I should contact the organization whom organized the project.

Caesar Perez, or CZR PRZ, as his business card says, is an artist that worked on the new mural. He told me that the courtyard is an important one, and that many years ago it was used for community gatherings. A Miss Puerto Rico beauty pageant was once held in the courtyard, per Caesar.

The other murals pictured (I believe, am guessing) are sponsored by the Friends of the Bloomingdale Trail, a group that is working hard on creating a walking park along the elevated trail, which currently isn't accessible to the public. An artist friend worked on a section of the trail near a viaduct at Maplewood, and Bloomingdale awhile back, and I no longer have photos of her art from that project on my computer due to the Great Coffee Spill of 2008 and consequent frying of a former laptop's motherboard, but if I did I'd share her mural pictures, too.

Ground Control

Once again, I have poster's remorse, this time in relation to a post I put up yesterday on windycitizen.com about a mass note of intro from a new editor at a widely read Chicago daily tabloid/newspaper that shall remain unnamed.

At the time I posted it I had been up for almost two days straight, with maybe four hours of sleep, and I was quite grumpy. The impetus for the post was a gut reaction to the editor's words, and nothing more. I wasn't intending to bash anyone, or be "unprofessional" as a commenter accused me of being, though technically to be unprofessional, or professional carries the implication of actually having a profession, which I'm working on.

Personally, I am sad that our society has turned into a nation of tweeters, and after reading a NYT evening on the town column with the founders of Twitter a few weeks ago I felt even more unsettled by the Twitter phenomenon, and the tiny, lit screens everyone seems to have in their palm, or pocket these days. I'm not able to put into words why I feel the way I do just yet, but at some point I'll figure it out, and probably tweet about it like everyone else.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/05/10/fashion/10nite.html

I'm thankful for a lot of things right now, and my refrigerator which often functions as a grounding message of ground control along with my Ryan Adam's "Easy, Tiger" poster is once again reminding me of the important things in life. Yesterday I missed having lunch with a friend (important), and going to a meeting at the library (important) because I was scrambling to finish a weekly neighborhood newsletter that keeps growing because I keep adding stuff to it each week (not as important), because stuff keeps happening, and I can't stop.

Another important thing I've failed to do is load mother's day pics to a photo sharing site so that my mother can create a slide show, or collage, or print them out, or do whatever it is she always seems to do with photos. I had put them on Facebook, but they were too small, and she requested of me one week ago that I do this, and I have failed because I was too busy working on other random (and not as important) stuff.

These images are from my fridge. I have been desperately trying to "talk less, say more" my entire life, with limited success. Nevertheless, the Swedish proverb has followed me to many cubicles, along with some of the other stuff here. Now I'm awake, well rested, caffeinated, and off to take care of some important stuff.

Why RedEye Sucks

MS insisted on reading the RedEye at brunch this past Saturday, and because it was littered all over the ground, its weekend edition wrapped up to look like a real newspaper, we picked up a copy, and headed to Milk and Honey on Division.

Just got this "note" of intro from the new RedEye 2Do editor. As the Trib continues to lay off Pulitzer winning writers, and people covering wars here, and abroad, rest assured the new Web editor of the past two weeks over at the RedEye wants to hear all about "if any celebs visit your store" and all the other vomit-inducing news fit to tweet. If THIS is the future of traditional media, and of the much beloved Chicago Tribune, I don't give a rat's ass if it dies.

Update to RedEye2do‏
From: Red Eye 2do (redeye2do@hotmail.com)
Sent: Mon 5/18/09 10:44 AM
To: redeye2do@hotmail.com
Hi everyone,

My name is XXX and I've been doing 2do for the last few weeks and will continue to do so. I am also RedEye's new web editor. You can find me @crushgear. I'm sorry it took me so long to send out this email, but I wanted to get settled before I introduced myself.

1. Please continue sending your great events listings to us here!
2. UPDATE: We want your celebrity sightings! If any celebs visit your store, restaurant or institution, we would love to know.
3. UPDATE: You can tweet us your events or celeb sightings to @redeye2do on twitter.


Thanks!

Sincerely,
XX XXXX

Sunday Spider

I forget what happened luck-wise the last time I killed a spider, but this time I watched the spider instead of smashing it to death on my wall, the mark still there as a testament to my laziness, cruelty, and lack of paper towels. Oh yeah, and I also felt the need to record the spider, along with taking a few new glam shots of Sophie, all of which occurred this fine Sunday morning.

Soon I'll read the Sunday newspapers, as the news around these parts is pretty quiet, and I need to think about what's happening in the world at large, and not just in Wicker Park. After that I am checking out a friend's reading at a bar for a literary festival. I'm not a huge fan of listening to writers read, and prefer to just read on the page, but sometimes it is nice to get out of my apartment. The compulsion that drives people to participate in open mikes is probably similar to the one that drives people to blog, so I should show my support of a different sort of creative expression.

Can You Guess How They're Connected?

There's a reason all of these people will be featured in an upcoming Street Scene, and it has nothing to do with what they sell. From Miss Sixy Jeans, to coffee filters, Italian beef, eyebrow waxing, stationary, and more, the truth will reveal itself soon enough.

Sky God Devils & Divas

My skin will probably be beef jerky at 40, and I'll die early from one skin ailment or another, and all my icky, over-processed hair I can barely look at in photos will one day fall out, but I'm not regretting the nap on the hill, and this consequent sunburn.

Good thing I'm not on Thorozine, like poet Anne Sexton whom had a line in a poem (I'm paraphrasing) about sunbathing being like "making love to the sky Gods." I guess she had to give up the sun for the compromise of taking a psychotropic medication. I was trying to find the line from the poem, but came across this book excerpt instead:
http://books.google.com/books?id=10n0bOSe0CMC&pg=PA33&lpg=PA33&dq=%22sunbathing%22+%22anne+sexton%22&source=bl&ots=oMhZevNLrj&sig=dI63eXBRTqWdkKoK7s6KfLGDrfY&hl=en&ei=4zUMStbLFpy0NYe9lacG&sa=X&oi=book_result&ct=result&resnum=1

His Side, Her Side: The 2016 Olympics

Mr. Sunshine, and I are at an ideological impasse: He wants the Olympics here in Chicago in the Year 2016, and I don't.

MS just accused me of possibly being a republican b/c I am opposed to the Olympics being hosted in Chicago in 2016, wtf?!

Um, it's not just the cost, It's the natural land being razed to make way for the festivus (I don't know how to hyperlink, but here's Ben Joravsky's take on the issue, http://www.chicagoreader.com/features/stories/theworks/081204/)...it's the weight on our already stretched public transit infrastructure, the amount of pork that will be earmarked for special Olympic projects, the disruption to traffic, the mess before, and after, the crime, the spotlight, etc.

Look at Chicago now in 2009. Are the potholes going to get any better by 2016, the deficit any smaller, the sales taxes any less higher?

Sure, as a tourist I wouldn't mind *visiting* Chicago for the Olympics, or chilling on my couch watching those sexy male swimmers, and marveling at the shoulders of volleyball players named Misty, and thinking of how cool it is that it's all happening just an el ride away, but as a citizen do I want the games here, in my backyard? Heck, no! Sure, it'll be spectacular, an awesome time for the world at large, but what about all the before, and after, all the lives, and land compromised? All the millions of dollars spent?

Take the gilded party elsewhere, please, and stop referencing the 1893 Columbian Exposition. People, as in those from outside our country still liked America back then. Furthermore, 2016 puts us at the last Hurrah of Obama's presidency, that is if he is a two term president, which at this nascent point I hope that he will be, though only time will tell. He's going gray pretty fast, and 7.5 years in politics probably feels a lot like dog years-- and Christmas to those behind the wheels of the Chicago Clout machines that work nonstop, its windy citizens caught in air shafts, bearing the albatross that could be Chicago's 2016 Olympic Games.

"Are you a republican? Oh no!!!!" were his exact words.

This was his original email to me. The tag line of "maybe this will sway your opinion" made me smile. I guess he doesn't know me that well. Maybe I will sway his opinion. I hope it won't cause a rift, though. I'm already missing his dog, and he cooks better than Lean Cuisine. But, I'm holding firm. No Olympics in 2016, please!!!!!


Date: Wed, 13 May 2009 10:30:33 -0700
From: "mrsunshine@XXXXX
Subject: Maybe this will sway your opinion
To: XXXX@hotmail.com

Hey, check out these videos listed on this link. I know that you think the olympics will be too costly, but imagine the jobs, commerce, and new infrastructure that could come from getting the games here. Chicago would not be anything like it is without the 1892 World's Fair. This is an opportunity for the city to pave the way for the future of all great cities in the world. It could be the platform for President Obama to globalize the green initiative. It could also stand as a voice of a new America, one that has weathered the storm of the economic near-depression and is now a respected and peace-loving leader of the new world. I may be a bleeding-heart liberal optimist, but I truly did believe in the President's message from the start of his campaign. I believe this country can become a great country again. I think that in the final year of his presidency, after what I believe will be two terms of progressive groundbreaking political leadership, that having the olympics here would be a great way for America to communicate it's new and proven message to the international community thus further globalizing government and economy.

Sorry went off on a little blog of my own. Hope you enjoy the videos.

XXXXXXX

Videos:

http://www.chicago2016.org/chicago-2016-videos.aspx

Afternoon in Humboldt Park

Taking a break from all things Wicker Park, I took to the streets with my trusty CareerKiller President's Club beach towel, and landed on a hill alongside the relatively new Little Cubs Field in Humboldt Park.

While squinting in the sun I read this past Sunday's NYT magazine. The cover story was about a writer battling chronic depression, and I found it very interesting, though I wonder if a 40-year psychoanalyst run, and being medicated nonstop constitutes more of a lifestyle than a condition. It was also an odd story choice for Mother's Day weekend, too. I admired the writer's frankness, thought, yet I also felt uncomfortable reading her story, which probably means it was a good one.

Since watching Sophie I must have developed odd canine magnetic powers. A random dog ran up to me and began licking my ear. Shortly after that, another random dog appeared, and dropped a tennis ball at my feet, which I tossed back down the hill. Both owners were apologetic. I said 'no worries,' and meant it.