October 6th, 2014 § permalink
It was a bust. You’ve probably read that by now.
It didn’t ignite. It fizzled. The city and a performance artsy theater place brought tens of thousands of people downtown on a cold October night for a fire festival that forgot the fire. » Read the rest of this entry «
October 3rd, 2014 § permalink
The rain killed the softball game in Eckhart Park.
Just south of the boarded church where plywood circles protect stained glass, the game gave up. Men, young only to the point where muscle turns chub, called it in under the light staccato.
From a diamond lit like day, they walked to the street, patting backs and praising performance. The rain was so light, they didn’t run. Just walked. » Read the rest of this entry «
October 1st, 2014 § permalink
From 2010 to 2012, my friend Nathan, a tall, thin, quiet man with a shock of red hair, was stalked through Chicago by a man named T-Shirt. » Read the rest of this entry «
September 29th, 2014 § permalink
The following is the story originally intended for last week, but postponed due to that sleep-killing jerkface Edward Paul Brennan (1866-1942).
Enjoy, and may all your historical street references be correctly numbered. » Read the rest of this entry «
September 26th, 2014 § permalink
“To the person (or persons) who stole my bike seat on Friday, September 19th:” the note read. » Read the rest of this entry «
September 24th, 2014 § permalink
She sat in the back row of a double-length city bus, lounging like the two massive boxes flanking her were the arms of a throne.
The regent herself was late teens or early 20s, fond of that particular brand of hipster gear divided between 2014 and 1991. A multicolored, flat-brimmed baseball cap was crammed over a head of dark, curly hair. She wore thick-framed plastic glasses.
She sat between two 18-inch cubes wrapped in brown paper.
“Mind if I ask what’s in the boxes?” I asked. » Read the rest of this entry «
September 22nd, 2014 § permalink
I’m up well into the a.m., I smell like stale sweat and I blame amateur urban planner Edward Paul Brennan (1866-1942). » Read the rest of this entry «
September 19th, 2014 § permalink
“Growing up, the scariest thing I ever heard was La Llorona. I don’t know if you’ve ever heard that.”
I hadn’t. » Read the rest of this entry «
September 17th, 2014 § permalink
He isn’t screaming anymore.
He’s not yelling “Fuck! FUCK!” like he was a few minutes back. He isn’t weeping into a phone, shouting through tears “I want to kill myself. I want to commit suicide.”
The man in my front yard isn’t screaming anymore. He’s no longer yelling about Sarah. » Read the rest of this entry «
September 15th, 2014 § permalink
I was a bit too stunned to ask the men why they were carrying crates of live pigeons.
I don’t even know if “crates” is the right word. Trays of pigeons? Pallets of pigeons? Port-o-coops?
Whatever the contraptions were called, the men piled out of the mid-sized car carrying two of them just packed to the brim with pigeons. » Read the rest of this entry «
