1,001 Chicago Afternoons

I’m typing now. Everyone is.

A sales guy in the corner is chattering away. Two of the production guys were hushed-toning it about a color separation detail, but that got resolved and they walked away from each other.

Now it’s just you, me and the clicking and clacking of a dozen keyboards. » Read the rest of this entry «

I can’t in good faith pretend the story I want to tell about Chicago today is in Chicago.

I can’t pretend I’m that parochial or have that much dedicated bandwidth to focus solely on the municipal jurisdiction that provides my garbage pickup and blog title.

I can’t pretend my thoughts aren’t focused on a president who fired the head of the agency investigating his cronies, of media blackouts at the highest levels, of threats against comedians and criminal charges for laughing at the attorney general, of whatever atrocity will be revealed by the time I finish this sentence.

So I went to the river. » Read the rest of this entry «

We all need a place to dive.

It’s a place to plunge under the water, to immerse yourself in the calming, clearing _____ that takes you away from your routine for a moment.

_____ could be a seat by a tree. It could be a little quiet spot in your office to just give you a break from the twin strings jerking you back and forth between work and home.

Mine’s a bookstore downtown. » Read the rest of this entry «

The film “The Untouchables” (1987) has a line that has become a catchphrase for the city: “The Chicago Way.”

“He pulls a knife, you pull a gun. He sends one of yours to the hospital, you send one of his to the morgue! That’s the Chicago Way!” yells the Scotsman playing the Irishman using the same accent he used to play a Russian submarine captain. » Read the rest of this entry «

I would like to dedicate today’s story to Google Maps, which about 20 minutes ago decided it didn’t like the interactive display I had spent hours designing and reverted to an incomplete version from three days ago, apparently deleting every change I had made since. Thanks, Google Maps. You’re a rock star. » Read the rest of this entry «

Does an F-sharp sound more like the North Branch?

Does Bubbly Creek feel more like a cello or piccolo?

How do you compose Centennial Fountain?

I know. Because after Saturday, I know what the Chicago River sounds like. » Read the rest of this entry «

It’s just a little park on the North Side. It’s about a city block in size and has a fountain in the middle. People scream for both dogs and children to get right back here this second.

Both the dogs and kids take their time doing it. » Read the rest of this entry «

He sat on a bench on the Red Line platform at Chicago Avenue, » Read the rest of this entry «

“He shoved her?”

“Yeah, just shoved her.”

“Was it like playful?”

“No, he just shoved her.” » Read the rest of this entry «

The entirety of American political history can be found at an old polling place somewhere along the north branch of the Chicago River. » Read the rest of this entry «