#412: The Firebird Suite, Part 1: Feminism and the Trapeze

December 15th, 2014 § permalink

She’s small. That’s what you notice when she sidles into the coffeehouse where you said you would meet.

You expected the cockatiel shock of henna-red hair shunted dramatically to the side. You expected the arched eyebrows and even the tinkling, slightly sarcastic-sounding voice to an extent.

But you didn’t expect someone who could flip and twist and lock her feet and dangle, kink her back and swirl through the air, raising herself slowly toward the sky by the tension of her wrists — you didn’t expect her to be so small.

Aerialist Camille Swift of Old Irving Park is five feet, five inches of the most powerful physical presence you’ve come across.

She’s the firebird. » Read the rest of this entry «

#411: The Podcast

December 12th, 2014 § permalink

There is a type of story you can’t help tell without sounding old.

It’s the type that starts in a comedy club with a curtain over the door so the comic doesn’t get a blast of light in the face every time someone has to go to the bathroom.

It’s the type of story that starts with wait staff filing and shuffling people into seats, taking drink orders, bringing up napkins and plates of fries for table to split, gliding around with pitchers and smiles as others file more hungry, thirsty faces in.

It’s the type of story where a man you’ve only seen on TV comes up wearing cloth reindeer antlers, casually shakes your hand and says, “Hi, I’m Greg” before moving on to do the same at the next table. » Read the rest of this entry «

#410: The Ride Up

December 10th, 2014 § permalink

The elevator’s mirrored doors were a cruel touch; the riders couldn’t even lock eyes ahead.

Instead, the 10 in the metal box had to go to different ruses to avoid looking at each other. They looked up, down, to the left, to the right. They pretended to be interested into the inset screens spewing outside weather temperatures and snippets of the news. » Read the rest of this entry «

#409: The Words

December 8th, 2014 § permalink

He said the piece of paper had always protected him, but now he was stepping out from behind it. He read about Wrigleyville.

She said she would read her piece off the phone, as the kids do. She read about Austin.

Another he read from his book about Pilsen and Heart of Chicago. » Read the rest of this entry «

#408: The Stories I Cannot Tell

December 5th, 2014 § permalink

By the beat-down storefront of an Avondale dive, under the glowing, dancing figures of a light-up Żywiec beer sign, I held an elderly woman in my arms as she wept.

And I can’t tell you why. » Read the rest of this entry «

#407: Vengeance of the Friendly Algorithms

December 3rd, 2014 § permalink

At the Newberry Library, the staid old temple to history located in an 1890s Spanish Romanesque manor north of Bughouse Square, two journalists talked about how Facebook and Google algorithms give different people different news. » Read the rest of this entry «

#406: The Comedy Machine

December 1st, 2014 § permalink

The line started outside.

It was wrapped around, as lines should be. The perfect length to show that, yes, what’s happening in this small storefront in Old Town is worth seeing, worth waiting for, worth wrapping around a building for.

“I don’t know how clear your conscience needs to be, but the line starts back there,” a man in line snipped as I walked in the doors.

I shot him a look somewhere between obsequious smile and a 14-year-old girl’s interpretation of withering.

“We’re heading up to will-call on the second floor,” I said. “My conscience is fine.” » Read the rest of this entry «

#405: A Few Stray Ones

November 28th, 2014 § permalink

In 2009, I was driving by Cermak and Ogden and saw a license plate that said GOLDIGR. It was on a Dodge Neon.

Someone’s not doing their job. » Read the rest of this entry «

#404: Disco Bingo

November 26th, 2014 § permalink

The card told her to scratch off all the 36es, so she did.

Then the 18s. And the 67s.

One by one, she wordlessly, ceaselessly searched out numbers in the eight five-by-five boxes on the instant lottery card and destroyed them, one by one, to see if she could get her $5 back and maybe a few hundred thousand bucks on top. » Read the rest of this entry «

#403: The Keyboard Player

November 24th, 2014 § permalink

“Feliz Navidad!” he sang into the microphone positioned above the keyboard in the fifth-filled Mexican restaurant on Western. “Feliz Navidad y prospero año y felicidad… y Lazo’s Tacos!”

He chuckled a bit at his own joke, which was ignored by the smattering of people choosing to nosh on Sunday night Mexican food rather than wander the light, dripping rain outdoors. » Read the rest of this entry «

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