In the spirit of past 1,001 Chicago Afternoons tales “#717: Five Images from Chicago Collections Consortium to Haunt Your Turkey Comas” and “#770: Quack Cures and How Bad They’d Kill You” and because I moved that damn marble-top end table of my grandparents’ by myself over the weekend and my arms feel like someone punched me over and over and over until I gave them my lunch money, I present to you now “#802: A Bunch of Out-of-Context Tribune Archives Artwork Because I Moved Over the Weekend and Everything Hurts.” » Read the rest of this entry «
#802: A Bunch of Out-of-Context Tribune Archives Artwork Because I Moved Over the Weekend and Everything Hurts
June 12th, 2017 § permalink
#800: Knowing a Lot
June 7th, 2017 § permalink
Men play bags at the corner bar north across North.
The distance and the scream of cars rushing over the avenue make it an oddly silent game, little marionettes stepping forward to underhand bean bags into the sky, hoping their loft comes ka-thunking down near the board set up on the game’s other side. One man makes an odd wooting call that cuts through the traffic for a moment. Wha-ooo, not wha-hoo. Wha-ooo.
You’re standing by an empty lot that used to house a corrupt alderman’s bar. » Read the rest of this entry «
#799: Yawn of Man
June 5th, 2017 § permalink
There’s getting old, and there’s falling asleep at a punk show. » Read the rest of this entry «
#798: Lurch
June 2nd, 2017 § permalink
There’s a point to the ride where you learn to hate doughnuts. » Read the rest of this entry «
#797: Just Keep Walking
May 31st, 2017 § permalink
I wanted to say this to the woman crying on the train, I really did.
I wanted to say something akin to “Don’t worry, kid. It’s OK.”
But is that trying to be a white knight in a situation where I should just let a young woman be? Is that not trusting her with her own emotional imperative? Is that kindness or sexism? I wouldn’t tell a woman walking down the street to smile. Why should I tell a woman on her morning commute it’s OK to cry?
These were my thoughts. I’m not using this as a way to mock feminism or modern gender views I’ve learned from Twitter. I just wanted to know if being kind would hurt the crying woman. » Read the rest of this entry «
#796: To the Breakfast-Eaters
May 29th, 2017 § permalink
Her hair was as radioactively blue as the pile of berries on her pancakes was red.
She sat at a table for four alone at the bustling Andersonville breakfast spot. She smiled wan but warm at the server when he brought her the massive pile of pancakes, whipped cream, berry compote and streusel crumbs.
Then she delicately picked up a fork with her right hand and, as a slow, peaceful smile lit on her face, she picked at the pile of warmth and fluff. She picked at a book with her left. » Read the rest of this entry «
#795: The ‘Donate to These Guys’ List
May 26th, 2017 § permalink
As with everyone who cares about journalism, the community, free speech or good governance, the last few months have been the emotional equivalent of a bodyslam from a U.S. congressional candidate.
It’s the world we live in. So let’s get off our rears this three-day weekend and direct some resources to some of the folks trying to make that world a better one. » Read the rest of this entry «
#794: Night at the Museum
May 24th, 2017 § permalink
My ankle started to hurt, an old-man trait inherited from my dad’s side of the family, so I took a seat between the photo of the world’s first Ferris wheel and the old Chicago Times guide to the tribes you could gawk at.
The historian was still talking. » Read the rest of this entry «
#793: Morning at the Field
May 22nd, 2017 § permalink
It was the quiet time at the Field Museum of Natural History, the first few minutes after the 9 a.m. opening on a gray, murky Sunday. » Read the rest of this entry «
