Seen: Son of Son of Sam

Oh, my. Was witness to some serious Crazy(tm) on the bus. It's been awhile, but this guy had it goin' on. Older guy, late middle age, silvery-white hair, long, and big, Neil Young sideburns. Glasses. Wore a worn tan canvas windbreaker and navy blue slacks.

He boarded around Water Tower Place, in a big press of people, and began conversing -- a bland, quasi-California kinda drawl, half-shreds of conversation that first made me think he was talking to somebody, only to realize a moment later that he was talking to himself. I wrote down some of his word-shreds, each one delivered in a conversational tone, having this conversation with nothing:

"You're the witch, right? You look like the witch. But I'm the wizard. Just remember, I'll take care of that little speech impediment."

"Burt? Ernie? Yeah, you better straighten that out."

"I'm Wesley Curry. Sure, they're going into their own private hell together. Just like that policeman that tried to murder me. He's dead now. In the Sun-Times."

"Jody Weiss's right arm'll be in a sling."

"They won't put THAT on your magic paper. On your magic television."

"We'll take care of that speech impediment."

"It doesn't matter that Susan is about to get hired."

"So, Burt and Ernie, you can't get away with NOT telling."

"You can say anything you want, but you can't say that George W. Bush didn't have a vision."

"In Hell, Jesus Christ is gonna make it so you cannot ever speak again."

"I'm a prince of the Earth." (tried to shake commuters' hands)

And the capper, he broke out into a song, this sort of lilting tune (which I render in crazy-person caps for emphasis):

"HeRe In HeAveN, WiTh OuR LOrD Jesus
EVeRyONe WaS CuT iN LITtLe PiECeS.
THe LiTtLe PiECeS, ThEy DiD NoT BleEd
NoR WoULd tHEy saY who It WaS
HaD DoNE tHe DeEd."

I got off the bus at that point, didn't hear the rest of his crazy tune.

What's My (Punch) Line?

It's been one of THESE sortsa days.

Snowman

Saw this in the neighborhood the other day. A snow-thing. Snow-hipster? Snow-Quasimodo?

What is she?

Any idea what species Meryl Davis is? She looks like one of "Avatar's" Na'vi except without the blue skin. She is very unusual-looking. She and her human partner should have gotten the gold last night. They outperformed the Canadians.

Footsie

Saw this on a side street in my neighborhood.

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!

In the Pink

The whole Pink Line flap amuses me.

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.

Kerouac Lit?

Saw this clip in The New Republic. Jack Kerouac looks like he's plowed, for sure...

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??

Hancocky

Southbound, Michigan Avenue.

*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.

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.