November 15th, 2013 § permalink
I won’t be able to celebrate Ben Hecht entering the pantheon of great Chicago writers tonight. I’ll be working.
I won’t be able to dress up in 1920s garb (although I think I wouldn’t have anyway) and dine and drink and listen to live readings of Ben Hecht’s works tonight at The Cliff Dwellers Club. » Read the rest of this entry «
November 13th, 2013 § permalink
In the cold, under certain bright streetlamps, the world looks black and white. » Read the rest of this entry «
November 11th, 2013 § permalink
She kissed me under the Wrigley Field sign, the girl with the close-cropped hair and the warm, wonderful eyes. She kissed me and laughed and said:
“Why don’t you take a Divvy bike?” » Read the rest of this entry «
November 8th, 2013 § permalink
Real Chicago is a white woman in a white dress walking down a corridor lined with mirrors.
According to the ad on the hotel wall, at least. » Read the rest of this entry «
November 6th, 2013 § permalink
“Now watch as I zoom through the crowd,” the man with the motorized unicycle said before doing just that. » Read the rest of this entry «
November 4th, 2013 § permalink
OK, I lied.
This is Chicagoana to the extent that I read it at Chicago’s own live weekly magazine, The Paper Machete during their Nov. 2 show, but mostly it’s about a fascinating study put out by researchers from the Republic of Georgia. Because I wanted to spend Sunday eating pizza and doing laundry instead of chasing down the last artisanal radish farmer in Schorsch Village or somesuch, here it be for your Monday storytime. » Read the rest of this entry «
November 1st, 2013 § permalink
“Minnesota’s winning!” he said, wrapping small hands around an egg and bacon sandwich. “Is that good?”
I glanced at the TV screen.
“They’re playing Nebraska, so it’s good,” I said. » Read the rest of this entry «
October 30th, 2013 § permalink
There are few things pleasant about public transit and the new inward-facing CTA trains managed to eliminate them all. » Read the rest of this entry «
October 28th, 2013 § permalink
The wooden carving covering the bar’s mirrored back had a poem about an Irish cop raiding a speakeasy because he didn’t get his cut.
The Waits-voice band was jazzy and gruff.
The entirety of the Green Mill kept its distinctive Prohibition flair, that time of class, grace and utter adult cool. Save the bald guy making up his own little dance to a 1940s novelty show tune.
And god help me, I’ll be doing that in a week. » Read the rest of this entry «
October 25th, 2013 § permalink
The apples looked good.
So did the pears. » Read the rest of this entry «
