April 19th, 2013 § permalink
The young man at the front desk had his hair dyed blonde like he was playing a German in a sitcom.
“This is a shared co-working space for digital startups,” he recited to a slightly chubby couple who had managed to walk through the space without being able to figure out what it was.
A young man with hair like Tintin zipped past on a Razor scooter.
Welcome to the future of Chicago. » Read the rest of this entry «
April 17th, 2013 § permalink
Boston hit me hard.
I’ve never had anything less than the proper amount of sorrow for any of the mass killings that turn the name of a place into the name of a horror for months and years after. » Read the rest of this entry «
April 15th, 2013 § permalink
His puffy, smiling face hadn’t seen a razor in days, thick white whiskers hovering between heavy stubble and thin beard.
His workman’s fingers clutched a CTA card. » Read the rest of this entry «
April 12th, 2013 § permalink
All around me, high school students swarmed.
A pretty girl chattered and held court among a sea of horny boy attendees. A few laughing, acne-scarred boys rushed back and forth along the aisle, occasionally smacking each other or testing the waters by saying something slightly racist.
They all laughed and chattered and sulked and teemed. They moved in fast forward with the volume cranked up by half. Even the sulking was loud. » Read the rest of this entry «
April 10th, 2013 § permalink
The news vans were packing up for the day.
Fox News Chicago slowly retracted the aerial that had been peeking above the trees by Holy Name. WGN, ABC, NBC and CBS would soon follow suit.
A few news crews remained outside the cathedral doing last-minute stand ups as the harsh wind whipped against their perfect hair.
An old man, maybe homeless maybe not, packed up a series of newspapers with Roger Ebert’s face on them.
April 8th, 2013 § permalink
A little girl screams in joy as she goes over the grassy area in a little pink child’s scooter designed to look like a Vespa.
She sees me walking up the path and stops.
“Go ahead,” I say.
She shakes her head no.
I say, “OK, thank you,” and walk down the path.
I hear her say, “You’re welcome” as I walk past.
Spring is coming to Humboldt Park. » Read the rest of this entry «
April 5th, 2013 § permalink
Because there seems to be some confusion, that white thing with the circles on the bottom painted in the lane on the right side of the road is a picture of a bike.
It’s not a picture of a big fat moose who has to be let out of the car four feet from the restaurant because walking any longer would cause heart explosions
It’s not a picture of a cabbie sitting there to tally up bills and smoke.
And it’s not a picture of a big-ass van that decides pressing the little flashy lights means any spot that’s paved and isn’t actually being inhabited by a human being at the moment is a parking spot. » Read the rest of this entry «
April 3rd, 2013 § permalink
I went searching for an unfamiliar neighborhood to write a story about and I found a place I’ve been a half dozen times. » Read the rest of this entry «
April 1st, 2013 § permalink
The bus sped past the old man with the bright yellow jacket and the funny fur hat.
He stood in disbelief that turned into anger when I called “What the hell was that?”
“Motherfucking police!” he yelled, pointing at the two illegally parked squad cars that had blocked the bus driver’s view of the stop. “They park there, not fucking policing anything!” » Read the rest of this entry «
March 29th, 2013 § permalink
The woman’s eyes followed the cup’s path down to the table, then traced back up the waiter’s retreating arm.
She looked back at the cup, then back at the waiter. Then back to the cup.
Then she tittered. Little chuckles escaping as she stared at the cup of coffee sitting between her and the leftover slices of deep dish pizza. » Read the rest of this entry «
