She danced as Princess Leia and as a Super Mario fish, but that wasn’t nerd enough for her. » Read the rest of this entry «
#33: City Kids
July 13th, 2012 § permalink
The two little boys in the matching lion jammies both held up four fingers, but daddy corrected the smaller one.
“No,” he said in that paternal sing-song men bring home from the hospital with the bassinet and baby. “You’re two-and-a-half, aren’t you?”
The little one nodded and offered me a look through his bright yellow binoculars. The one who was actually 4, Braeden or something similar that is now somehow considered a name, looked up at his daddy with pleading eyes. He wanted to get back to painting over the gang tag. » Read the rest of this entry «
#32: The Cleverest Hobo
July 11th, 2012 § permalink
This is the tale of the smartest bum I ever met. » Read the rest of this entry «
#31: Liza’s Ghost Bike
July 9th, 2012 § permalink
Men play basketball across the park and children splash in the pool, but someone remembers Liza Whitacre. » Read the rest of this entry «
#30: In Praise of Gloom
July 6th, 2012 § permalink
Lovely weather makes you move. Or, to be more accurate, it makes you feel you should be moving and should have already been moving for the last several hours. » Read the rest of this entry «
#29: Prematurely Graying-locks and the Three Coffee Shops
July 4th, 2012 § permalink
Once upon a time in the land known as West Town, a freelance writer realized that if he didn’t leave his house, he would watch YouTube episodes of “Scrubs” all day and never finish that magazine story. » Read the rest of this entry «
#28: First Letter of Paul to the Chicagoans
July 2nd, 2012 § permalink
The Apostles of the Library L stop were all black, as they said the Bible said. » Read the rest of this entry «
#27: The Receipt
June 29th, 2012 § permalink
I have a receipt written out by hand on paper lined with dancing ostriches. » Read the rest of this entry «
#26: The Painted Woman
June 27th, 2012 § permalink
What would Mary of the “Pietà” say?
What would the “American Gothic” farmer holler if he could drop his pitchfork, the “Vitruvian Man” his eternal jumping jacks? If these amber-frozen creatures of art could stretch out, step out and move, what would they talk about?
In the case of Roy Lichtenstein’s “I Know How You Must Feel, Brad” woman, she would talk about guerrilla marketing and how it doesn’t matter that she and her cohort work for a PR firm because, “Ultimately, we’re here for the art.” » Read the rest of this entry «
#25: Juggling, No Life Lesson
June 25th, 2012 § permalink
They juggle by the lake, the three men do. They meet when the weather’s nice and they talk and laugh and they juggle.
And they invite people in. » Read the rest of this entry «
