Saw this on a side street in my neighborhood.
Monday, February 22, 2010
Francisco, Cheech, Sunshine, and Nadine
If you don't want me to overhear you on the bus, don't talk so loudly that I can clearly hear you!
Francisco told somebody that Cheech had said it was alright, and that Sunshine or Nadine would be the best candidates to cover the next day, except that Nadine (I think) had yoga. So, maybe Sunshine was the best bet. Francisco repeated this message to approximately three different people on his cell phone, very loudly talking.
The city is very sloppy tonight -- wet, sloppy snow. You can almost feel Spring trying to assert itself, although it's way too early. Even with global warming, Winter's grip is tight on Chicago.
Dinner tonight is going to be sweet Italian sausages and potatoes. Mmm hmmm! I've got'em simmering right now, and the smell is savory!
Francisco told somebody that Cheech had said it was alright, and that Sunshine or Nadine would be the best candidates to cover the next day, except that Nadine (I think) had yoga. So, maybe Sunshine was the best bet. Francisco repeated this message to approximately three different people on his cell phone, very loudly talking.
The city is very sloppy tonight -- wet, sloppy snow. You can almost feel Spring trying to assert itself, although it's way too early. Even with global warming, Winter's grip is tight on Chicago.
Dinner tonight is going to be sweet Italian sausages and potatoes. Mmm hmmm! I've got'em simmering right now, and the smell is savory!
Snow day
Another snowstorm blew through here. It's amazing how winter has changed in Chicago since I've lived here, no doubt a side effect of *koff* climate change *koff* -- I've got a cold right now that has had a field day with my throat, and I'm sounding like, I dunno, Darkseid. Just low and croaky.
I wanted to snap a lot of pix, as the snow made everything beautiful -- the winds had it blowing sideways, so it hit a lot of statues and what-not on the side, which made them look neat.
Saw some old women nearly get into it on the bus this morning -- one gal was getting up to leave, and the other woman was standing, and the woman said "I'm getting out soon." and the other woman said "I'm getting out soon, too." And they glared at each other. Irresistible Force meet Immovable Object.
I've been watching a lot of Olympics of late. I can't resist it. It's over before you know it, so I'm enjoying it.
A couple more days and I find out whether my book advances to the next stage in the competition. We'll see. Fingers crossed. I could do with some good luck.
I'm going to write about love in a day or so -- or romantic love, anyway. It hearkens back to that article I posted the other day. I think our culture has sort of forgotten romantic love. Maybe it just flies in the face of the pragmatic realities and transactional exigencies of capitalist society, I'm not sure. But I believe in love. I still do. I've had my heart broken a couple of times (well, one slow erosion, the other an out-and-out shattering), but I still believe in the power and beauty of romantic love. Not sentimentalized, mind you -- but romantic, in every sense of the word.
Sometimes I feel that the 20th century saw the Romantic ground beneath the marching bootheels of pragmatism, and as we stagger punch-drunk into this new century, we're still rebounding from that. Certainly, humanity's sense of itself was surely shaken by what happened last century. I wonder what's in store for us as a species in this century. I often hope that a new Romantic spirit will arise and we will rise to it, instead of just having it all turn to ash and dust. In my tiny way, I hope my Romantic (big R) spirit prevails in my writing.
I often think about writing a love story. I did, once, in '99 -- but, oddly (or tellingly), it certainly wasn't about Exene -- who seemed to love being loved, without having to do much about loving in return. That story, that first real novel, was me yearning for something else, for someone else, and badly. The first real book I wrote was that one, when I was 29. Ten years ago, amazingly enough. The world changed with the new century's arrival, and I don't think the character I wrote in that day could survive this world -- she would not like it. I know she wouldn't.
But part of me thinks I should try again.
I wanted to snap a lot of pix, as the snow made everything beautiful -- the winds had it blowing sideways, so it hit a lot of statues and what-not on the side, which made them look neat.
Saw some old women nearly get into it on the bus this morning -- one gal was getting up to leave, and the other woman was standing, and the woman said "I'm getting out soon." and the other woman said "I'm getting out soon, too." And they glared at each other. Irresistible Force meet Immovable Object.
I've been watching a lot of Olympics of late. I can't resist it. It's over before you know it, so I'm enjoying it.
A couple more days and I find out whether my book advances to the next stage in the competition. We'll see. Fingers crossed. I could do with some good luck.
I'm going to write about love in a day or so -- or romantic love, anyway. It hearkens back to that article I posted the other day. I think our culture has sort of forgotten romantic love. Maybe it just flies in the face of the pragmatic realities and transactional exigencies of capitalist society, I'm not sure. But I believe in love. I still do. I've had my heart broken a couple of times (well, one slow erosion, the other an out-and-out shattering), but I still believe in the power and beauty of romantic love. Not sentimentalized, mind you -- but romantic, in every sense of the word.
Sometimes I feel that the 20th century saw the Romantic ground beneath the marching bootheels of pragmatism, and as we stagger punch-drunk into this new century, we're still rebounding from that. Certainly, humanity's sense of itself was surely shaken by what happened last century. I wonder what's in store for us as a species in this century. I often hope that a new Romantic spirit will arise and we will rise to it, instead of just having it all turn to ash and dust. In my tiny way, I hope my Romantic (big R) spirit prevails in my writing.
I often think about writing a love story. I did, once, in '99 -- but, oddly (or tellingly), it certainly wasn't about Exene -- who seemed to love being loved, without having to do much about loving in return. That story, that first real novel, was me yearning for something else, for someone else, and badly. The first real book I wrote was that one, when I was 29. Ten years ago, amazingly enough. The world changed with the new century's arrival, and I don't think the character I wrote in that day could survive this world -- she would not like it. I know she wouldn't.
But part of me thinks I should try again.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Friday, February 19, 2010
Final Placement
Holy shit -- this Christian band proves Nietzsche right...
If you can soldier through this entire video with your faith in God intact, good for you. Oh, Christ, what an earnest nightmare this is! Tune much, people??
If you can soldier through this entire video with your faith in God intact, good for you. Oh, Christ, what an earnest nightmare this is! Tune much, people??
Thursday, February 18, 2010
*ZZZzzz*
Have a cold. Took some Benadryl last night, which is like knockout sauce.
I've been a bit of a scofflaw of late, with my writing. The Olympics always throws me a curveball on that score. I love watching the Olympics! What can I say?
When you walk on the sidewalk alone, do you walk to one side? The center? I find that I walk down the center of the sidewalk unless there's somebody coming from the other direction.
I was on the torture bus last night -- the driver had, for a time, toggled the robot voice, and it kept repeating the route. Over and over and over again: "151. Sheridan. To Devon. And. Foster." In that halting robot voice. Repeatedly. That kind of stuff drives me bananas.
I've been a bit of a scofflaw of late, with my writing. The Olympics always throws me a curveball on that score. I love watching the Olympics! What can I say?
When you walk on the sidewalk alone, do you walk to one side? The center? I find that I walk down the center of the sidewalk unless there's somebody coming from the other direction.
I was on the torture bus last night -- the driver had, for a time, toggled the robot voice, and it kept repeating the route. Over and over and over again: "151. Sheridan. To Devon. And. Foster." In that halting robot voice. Repeatedly. That kind of stuff drives me bananas.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Crush: Tanith Belbin
Oh, yes. I have long crushed on Tanith Belbin. Seeing her back in the Vancouver Olympics brought it all back. What a pity she's a Cancer!I don't know how well she'll do this go'round, but what a nice thing to see her out on the ice yet again.
Yes.
Kefir
Yesterday, "Exene" was gulping down Kefir, and I shuddered at the sight of it. She managed to talk B1 into having some, and, despite initial resistance, it turned out he liked it. When he asked me why I didn't like it, I said "I'm not a fan of yogurt." and he said "But have you ever TRIED it, Daddy?" and I admitted I hadn't, but said that yogurt gave me the willies. It was cute to see him challenging me on that.
On the way home from work, on the bus, I saw a trio of people surfing at the lakeshore, which was very wavy, naturally. They were in wetsuits. You have to be crazy to surf Lake Michigan in February. The water has to be so cold!
On the way home from work, on the bus, I saw a trio of people surfing at the lakeshore, which was very wavy, naturally. They were in wetsuits. You have to be crazy to surf Lake Michigan in February. The water has to be so cold!
Dark Star
I find it fascinating that the idea of a black hole was first theorized during the Enlightenment, before vanishing from scientific thought for a century...
The idea of a body so massive that even light could not escape was put forward by geologist John Michell in a letter written to Henry Cavendish in 1783 to the Royal Society:
If the semi-diameter of a sphere of the same density as the Sun were to exceed that of the Sun in the proportion of 500 to 1, a body falling from an infinite height towards it would have acquired at its surface greater velocity than that of light, and consequently supposing light to be attracted by the same force in proportion to its vis inertiae, with other bodies, all light emitted from such a body would be made to return towards it by its own proper gravity.In 1796, mathematician Pierre-Simon Laplace promoted the same idea in the first and second editions of his book Exposition du système du Monde (it was removed from later editions).[3][4] Such "dark stars" were largely ignored in the nineteenth century, since light was then thought to be a massless wave and therefore not influenced by gravity. Unlike the modern black hole concept, the object behind the horizon of a dark star is assumed to be stable against collapse.
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
What's Love Got To Do With It?
I found this article in THE NATION interesting. I'll comment on it in a few.
Bent
This is on Clark Street, just north of the intersection of Lincoln and Wells. I like the salt spray on it, and, of course, the snow.
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