A picnic near the lakeside in Chicago is the start of a lazy afternoon.
Neil Armstrong is dead.
#53: A Kindness on Route 66
August 29th, 2012 § permalink
The No. 66 Chicago bus to Navy Pier wasn’t so packed the woman couldn’t find a seat.
She was short and middle aged, a bustle of blonde happy. Her hair was close-cropped in that fashion for women of her age and was being dyed tanner and tanner in an effort to keep up with the gray. She wore a striped sleeveless T-shirt and shorts, the gear of a woman out for a day of tourist fun. » Read the rest of this entry «
#52: Before Hours
August 27th, 2012 § permalink
The bartender poured a pint full of froth, frowned at it and poured it out. He then did it again. And again.
“By the end of the night when it’s been pouring all night, it’ll be fine, but it takes like 10 beers to pour one good one,” he said by way of apology. » Read the rest of this entry «
#51: Christ Must Dance
August 24th, 2012 § permalink
“I went to Catholic church growing up and it was, like, the same thing every week,” the trim woman in the workout clothes said.
“Right,” her friend continued. » Read the rest of this entry «
#50: Old Joe of Canaryville
August 22nd, 2012 § permalink
Joe sits in his barbershop with the door locked, listening to Lite FM and the police scanner at the same time. » Read the rest of this entry «
#49: On the Jets
August 20th, 2012 § permalink
When the air roared, people looked up.
I saw men moving furniture who looked up. I saw people in one of those creepy vans where you assume the only purpose could be odd look up. I saw kids and granddads and hot moms look up because the air roared in anticipation.
Because it’s the air show. » Read the rest of this entry «
#48: The Tightrope Walker of Union Park
August 17th, 2012 § permalink
Mike rides his bike to Union Park three nights a week in the summer. He sets his iPhone to play that special brand of indie country, sets his helmet in the grass, lights an incense joss stick and spends the next few hours walking the tightrope between two trees. » Read the rest of this entry «
#47: Division Street vs. Art
August 15th, 2012 § permalink
“He came in, poked his head in the door and said, ‘Can you paint me maggots?’”
“Maggots?”
“Maggots. Another time he came in and said, ‘Am I in New York?’”
“Was he messing with you, or-”
“No, there was something wrong with him,” she cut in, giving the universal swirl-finger for crazy. “He was the most interesting one this month.” » Read the rest of this entry «
#46: Starry, Starry Night
August 13th, 2012 § permalink
Between the lapping waves and the late summer trill of the crickets, you can almost convince yourself you’re not in a city when you’re by Montrose Beach.
If you close your eyes. » Read the rest of this entry «
#45: Spiritual Hip-Hop, Porn and The Dark Knight Rises
August 10th, 2012 § permalink
“Spiritual hip-hop! Spiritual hip-hop!” the man with the stack of CDs yelled outside the Jewel on a gray August day.
“Movies,” he said, quieter. » Read the rest of this entry «
