I went for a walk today and a little kid was selling
lemonade out in front of his house so I bought a
glass for 50 cents.
Ah, capitalism, they start em young down here....
p.s.-Camille's Mom's lemonade is better.
Showing posts with label Chicago. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Chicago. Show all posts
Sunday, June 15, 2008
Saturday, June 14, 2008
Flash Moments From Within the Haunted Empire (part I)
These are fingersnap moments as I saw them
and took them down.
***
Reading Jack in the park
Back against the cool bark
Bugs on my arms are eternity.
***
Ducks lined up on a log in the pond. Litle
feathery soldiers fuffing and ferluffeling.
***
The lake glows turqouise, the colour of God's
eyes, silently rollng in quiet chaos. White
boats dot and dart, pulling white crumbles
behind them. The noise of the city grinds
on at my back. My ears fill with the babel
of the internal combustion engine.
***
The vast sandy sea speckled with sweating,
tanning humanity, living like Romans. Is this
your entitlement while the rest rot and die
in slums?
***
All desire has left my bones. All that remains
is a whisper of a man. I'm made of other stuff
than you.
and took them down.
***
Reading Jack in the park
Back against the cool bark
Bugs on my arms are eternity.
***
Ducks lined up on a log in the pond. Litle
feathery soldiers fuffing and ferluffeling.
***
The lake glows turqouise, the colour of God's
eyes, silently rollng in quiet chaos. White
boats dot and dart, pulling white crumbles
behind them. The noise of the city grinds
on at my back. My ears fill with the babel
of the internal combustion engine.
***
The vast sandy sea speckled with sweating,
tanning humanity, living like Romans. Is this
your entitlement while the rest rot and die
in slums?
***
All desire has left my bones. All that remains
is a whisper of a man. I'm made of other stuff
than you.
Sunday, May 11, 2008
Saturday night
Saturday night in Chicago and its another lonely one in this beast
of a city.
I walked through the side streets of Lincoln Park. The leaves are out
and the tree-lined streets feel more closed in, yet warmer even if the
temperature isn't. The cold, leafless nights of February are gone.
The buildings in the neighbourhood are an assortment of styles.
Most are brick and stone with big blocks, warrened entrance ways,
and high staircases leading to large front doors. Clean brick lined
alleyways snake between the crowded buildings. It feels European,
but still distinctly American. Solid feeling and looking. The influence
of the waves of immigrants that settled this city.
I emerge back on to one of the main streets, Lincoln Avenue. The
quiet of the back streets gives way to buzz and hustle of Saturday
night in a big American city. People walk purposefully as they tend
to do down here.
I walk under the trestles of the El as it slashes diagonally across
Lincoln. Everywhere you walk has the feeling of a movie set. You
hear the tracks begin to rumble, then roar as the train thunders
overhead, like the sky is about to fall on you. Blue light from the
train flickers on the grey wall of a building for an instant, like
lightening. Then all you're left with is the rumble of the tracks
again.
My night so far is at a bar called Lilly's, listening to mediocre
live music. The walls are painted a deadly forest green, obviously
meant to spark depression and encourage drinking. They advertise
all-you-can drink PBR for $35. Classy.
The bar's been carved out of an old house. It's layout is schizoprenic.
There are almost no good sightlines for the stage where the band
plays. The best place, where I'm at, is the bar itself, with it's faux
gargoyles and christmas lights in the shape of reindeer. It's a lousy
spot for a live band, but then again most people think the band is
simply additional decor for the bar. Arched doorways divide the
bar up into bite-size pieces. You can catch glimpses of faces and
other parts of the bar. It's the drunkard's equivalent to Eco's
library from "Name of the Rose." The balcony is simply a hole in
the ceiling to what was the second floor. A radiator sits on a ledge
out of reach to anyone.
The crowd here are that college-age crew the occupy so much space
in university neighbourhoods. Neither jock nor artsy, they occupy a
neutral space of non-identity, a space of safety. I'm the most
audacius person there with my leather jacket, kangol hat, and
skull ring.
I'm in Chicago. I can do better than this. So I head to B.L.U.E.S.,
one of the best Blues bars in the city, not far from Lilly's and on my
way home. It's a hole-in-the-wall kind of place, where you would've
expected to hear some of the greats decades a go when the scene
was in it's heyday. But its always packed and its aways jumping. The
band is tearing it up and I'm wedged between tourists and locals.
People of all kinds. All that matters is the music.
of a city.
I walked through the side streets of Lincoln Park. The leaves are out
and the tree-lined streets feel more closed in, yet warmer even if the
temperature isn't. The cold, leafless nights of February are gone.
The buildings in the neighbourhood are an assortment of styles.
Most are brick and stone with big blocks, warrened entrance ways,
and high staircases leading to large front doors. Clean brick lined
alleyways snake between the crowded buildings. It feels European,
but still distinctly American. Solid feeling and looking. The influence
of the waves of immigrants that settled this city.
I emerge back on to one of the main streets, Lincoln Avenue. The
quiet of the back streets gives way to buzz and hustle of Saturday
night in a big American city. People walk purposefully as they tend
to do down here.
I walk under the trestles of the El as it slashes diagonally across
Lincoln. Everywhere you walk has the feeling of a movie set. You
hear the tracks begin to rumble, then roar as the train thunders
overhead, like the sky is about to fall on you. Blue light from the
train flickers on the grey wall of a building for an instant, like
lightening. Then all you're left with is the rumble of the tracks
again.
My night so far is at a bar called Lilly's, listening to mediocre
live music. The walls are painted a deadly forest green, obviously
meant to spark depression and encourage drinking. They advertise
all-you-can drink PBR for $35. Classy.
The bar's been carved out of an old house. It's layout is schizoprenic.
There are almost no good sightlines for the stage where the band
plays. The best place, where I'm at, is the bar itself, with it's faux
gargoyles and christmas lights in the shape of reindeer. It's a lousy
spot for a live band, but then again most people think the band is
simply additional decor for the bar. Arched doorways divide the
bar up into bite-size pieces. You can catch glimpses of faces and
other parts of the bar. It's the drunkard's equivalent to Eco's
library from "Name of the Rose." The balcony is simply a hole in
the ceiling to what was the second floor. A radiator sits on a ledge
out of reach to anyone.
The crowd here are that college-age crew the occupy so much space
in university neighbourhoods. Neither jock nor artsy, they occupy a
neutral space of non-identity, a space of safety. I'm the most
audacius person there with my leather jacket, kangol hat, and
skull ring.
I'm in Chicago. I can do better than this. So I head to B.L.U.E.S.,
one of the best Blues bars in the city, not far from Lilly's and on my
way home. It's a hole-in-the-wall kind of place, where you would've
expected to hear some of the greats decades a go when the scene
was in it's heyday. But its always packed and its aways jumping. The
band is tearing it up and I'm wedged between tourists and locals.
People of all kinds. All that matters is the music.
Saturday, April 12, 2008
last weekend.....
I've been real busy this week helping to get a PET-CT scanner (medical imaging equipment) up and running, so that's the reason for no posts lately.
That said, the weather last weekend was awesome. 15 degrees C and everyone was out and running around. I made it to the park and the beachfront for the first time. Yes, this city has beaches, although I'm not sure about swimming in Lake Michigan....
Here's some pics:
that's all for now....ttys...
That said, the weather last weekend was awesome. 15 degrees C and everyone was out and running around. I made it to the park and the beachfront for the first time. Yes, this city has beaches, although I'm not sure about swimming in Lake Michigan....
Here's some pics:
that's all for now....ttys...
Saturday, April 5, 2008
The city wakes up....
The city came alive today. It was like an anthill. People scurrying everywhere as the thermometer hit 16 (celsius, of course). It was the most activity I'd seen since being here. The sidewalks in Lincoln Park crowded. The bar patios overrun. People finally started to shake off the long heavy haze of winter.
I went up to Reckless Records on Broadway to buy the new Nick Cave CD (damn, imports) and walked around. Visited a couple of used bookstores. Sipped a beer at the Galway Arms. Bought a screen/room divider and CD rack for the apartment. The leisureness of the warm spring day seemd to change everyone's moods and bring them out.
I went up to Reckless Records on Broadway to buy the new Nick Cave CD (damn, imports) and walked around. Visited a couple of used bookstores. Sipped a beer at the Galway Arms. Bought a screen/room divider and CD rack for the apartment. The leisureness of the warm spring day seemd to change everyone's moods and bring them out.
Sunday, March 23, 2008
"Who Is This America Dem Speak Of Today?"
March 19th, 2008 was the 5th anniversary of the start of the
war in Iraq. I went to the PEACEFUL protest in downtown
Chicago. It was HUGE. It was a legal event and the organizers
had all the permits. So if any guvernment guys are reading this:
we did nothing wrong. It was a peaceful protest against a war
that has taken so many lives needlessly. My own political views
and actions are, and always will be, peaceful. As Gandhi said:
"Victory attained by violence is tantamount to a defeat, for it
is momentary." If things got crazy, I would have been out of
there in a second. I'm a guest in this country and my mother
always told me to be respectful when visiting, so I wasn't
going to cause or be a part of any trouble.
America was built on political activism and protest. It was born
from those fires. It has a rich history of protest: VietNam,
Civil Rights, Women's Suffrage. It goes on and on. So it was
amazing to be a part of that history. I felt I was part of the
movements that came before. These are the footsteps that
so many have previously walked.
The march began in front of Federal Plaza and wound its way
up Clark St. We marched across the Chicago River, beneath
the gigantic skyscrapers stretching upward toward the early
evening sky. People along the path flashed peace signs and
waved. It was a beautiful time. Many times I had to fight
back tears as I was so overcome by emotion. I hadn't
expected people to be so respectfull. In all honesty, I was
expecting it to be more confrontational. But it wasn't.
Then up Michigan Ave, one of the great shopping districts
in America, chanting "while you're shopping; bombs are
dropping." The police lined the sidewalks, half protecting,
half intimidating. We walked for the dead and the living.
We walked and made our voices heard. We made a
holy noise as we walked.
We passed the John Hancock Centre, a gigantic black
monolith of a building named after one of the Founding
Fathers of America. He fought the British to help forge
this country.
The cop density increased. The marched alongside us now.
Unwanted guardians.
We wound our way through the city until we got to a park.
The organizers told us this is where the official protest ended.
From here on the cops were the ones in charge.
Time to move out of the way. I did my part and now I
didn't want to be there if things got bad. I walked to the
sidewalk and watched. We had our say. There was no
reason to get arrested. That wouldn't accomplish
anything.
People milled about. Drumming started and people began
to dance in the streets.
That was enough fror the cops. Some appeared on
Segways and four-wheelers, pushing the crowds back,
blasting sirens, trying to get people out of the streets.
Then the ones in riot gear showed up. Like stormtroopers
they waited for the orders to start crushing heads. Silent.
Waiting.
Then the cops on horses appeared out of the dark to
push more people back. You could feel the tension.
What was going to happen?
Was somebody going to do something stupid?
Would it all descend into chaos?
There were too many people taking pictures and video.
It would have been a PR disaster for the police. There
was not one word hurled at them. There was not one
stone thrown. There was not one act of violence.
I chatted with people on the sidelines. People seemed
calm. Whatever tension I felt, was to others almost
non-existent. Like this was expected.
And then ... things started to die down. People moved off.
The police pulled back. It was over and nobody got hurt.
The tension disapated. And it was over.
But for 2 hours we made ourselves heard. Five years down.
How many to go?
p.s. - As an afterthought, everyone showed a lot of restraint:
the police, the protestors. It very easily could have gotten
nasty, so I applaud everyone for letting cooler heads prevail.
p.p.s-btw, the title of this post is from a song by the Afrobeat
band Antibalas. If you haven't heard of them, do yourself a
favour and check em out. Trust me.
war in Iraq. I went to the PEACEFUL protest in downtown
Chicago. It was HUGE. It was a legal event and the organizers
had all the permits. So if any guvernment guys are reading this:
we did nothing wrong. It was a peaceful protest against a war
that has taken so many lives needlessly. My own political views
and actions are, and always will be, peaceful. As Gandhi said:
"Victory attained by violence is tantamount to a defeat, for it
is momentary." If things got crazy, I would have been out of
there in a second. I'm a guest in this country and my mother
always told me to be respectful when visiting, so I wasn't
going to cause or be a part of any trouble.
America was built on political activism and protest. It was born
from those fires. It has a rich history of protest: VietNam,
Civil Rights, Women's Suffrage. It goes on and on. So it was
amazing to be a part of that history. I felt I was part of the
movements that came before. These are the footsteps that
so many have previously walked.
The march began in front of Federal Plaza and wound its way
up Clark St. We marched across the Chicago River, beneath
the gigantic skyscrapers stretching upward toward the early
evening sky. People along the path flashed peace signs and
waved. It was a beautiful time. Many times I had to fight
back tears as I was so overcome by emotion. I hadn't
expected people to be so respectfull. In all honesty, I was
expecting it to be more confrontational. But it wasn't.
Then up Michigan Ave, one of the great shopping districts
in America, chanting "while you're shopping; bombs are
dropping." The police lined the sidewalks, half protecting,
half intimidating. We walked for the dead and the living.
We walked and made our voices heard. We made a
holy noise as we walked.
We passed the John Hancock Centre, a gigantic black
monolith of a building named after one of the Founding
Fathers of America. He fought the British to help forge
this country.
The cop density increased. The marched alongside us now.
Unwanted guardians.
We wound our way through the city until we got to a park.
The organizers told us this is where the official protest ended.
From here on the cops were the ones in charge.
Time to move out of the way. I did my part and now I
didn't want to be there if things got bad. I walked to the
sidewalk and watched. We had our say. There was no
reason to get arrested. That wouldn't accomplish
anything.
People milled about. Drumming started and people began
to dance in the streets.
That was enough fror the cops. Some appeared on
Segways and four-wheelers, pushing the crowds back,
blasting sirens, trying to get people out of the streets.
Then the ones in riot gear showed up. Like stormtroopers
they waited for the orders to start crushing heads. Silent.
Waiting.
Then the cops on horses appeared out of the dark to
push more people back. You could feel the tension.
What was going to happen?
Was somebody going to do something stupid?
Would it all descend into chaos?
There were too many people taking pictures and video.
It would have been a PR disaster for the police. There
was not one word hurled at them. There was not one
stone thrown. There was not one act of violence.
I chatted with people on the sidelines. People seemed
calm. Whatever tension I felt, was to others almost
non-existent. Like this was expected.
And then ... things started to die down. People moved off.
The police pulled back. It was over and nobody got hurt.
The tension disapated. And it was over.
But for 2 hours we made ourselves heard. Five years down.
How many to go?
p.s. - As an afterthought, everyone showed a lot of restraint:
the police, the protestors. It very easily could have gotten
nasty, so I applaud everyone for letting cooler heads prevail.
p.p.s-btw, the title of this post is from a song by the Afrobeat
band Antibalas. If you haven't heard of them, do yourself a
favour and check em out. Trust me.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Deep Dish
Had my first Chicago Deep Dish pizza today. Now I need a nap.
It's a lotttttt of dough. It's a pizza that makes no sense either: thick thick crust, then cheese, then toppings, then sauce. Crazy Americans....
It's a lotttttt of dough. It's a pizza that makes no sense either: thick thick crust, then cheese, then toppings, then sauce. Crazy Americans....
Friday, March 14, 2008
dogs
There are dogs everywhere in this city. Literally everywhere. I've never seen so many dogs before. It may actually be a prerequisite to living in Lincoln Park. Expensive car? Check. Blonde hair? Check. Faux Irish Pub? Check. Dog? Check.
Weird...
Weird...
Thursday, March 6, 2008
diversity
One of the most striking differences between Chicago and any other city in Canada is the number of African-Americans and Mexican-Americans here. The city is ~40% African-American actually! There are Mexican restaurants everywhere. I ate one of the best vegie burritos I've evr had a few days ago. On the Southside, Soul Food restaurants dot the cityscape.
It adds a whole other level of diversity that we don't see in Canada. It's another thing that makes this feel like another country.
Camille's aliens should visit ....
It adds a whole other level of diversity that we don't see in Canada. It's another thing that makes this feel like another country.
Camille's aliens should visit ....
Thursday, February 28, 2008
the bars
The bars in this city are a drunkard's dream. All sizes and shapes. There are a few that have "beer gardens"; basically these are big rooms with lots of seating to drink.
LOTS of Irish pubs. Friggin' everywhere actually.
Then there are a plethora of places that a respectable gentleman should not frequent. Fortunately, I am neither a gentleman nor respectable.
Sterch's: popular with writers in 60's and 70's.
Ravens: open til 4am and serves only popcorn.
B.L.U.E.S.: a loud racuous Blues bar. I can;t wait to check out some more places.
The Billy Goat Tavern: underneath the Chi Tribune building, the basis for the infamous SNL Belushi sketch "cheezeborger" (it's even on the sign), and also responsible for a curse
on the Cubs (the original owner cursed the Cubs back in '45 when they wouldn't let him
bring his pet goat into Wrigley Field, and the Cubs have NOT been back to the World Series
since).
LOTS of Irish pubs. Friggin' everywhere actually.
Then there are a plethora of places that a respectable gentleman should not frequent. Fortunately, I am neither a gentleman nor respectable.
Sterch's: popular with writers in 60's and 70's.
Ravens: open til 4am and serves only popcorn.
B.L.U.E.S.: a loud racuous Blues bar. I can;t wait to check out some more places.
The Billy Goat Tavern: underneath the Chi Tribune building, the basis for the infamous SNL Belushi sketch "cheezeborger" (it's even on the sign), and also responsible for a curse
on the Cubs (the original owner cursed the Cubs back in '45 when they wouldn't let him
bring his pet goat into Wrigley Field, and the Cubs have NOT been back to the World Series
since).
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
apartment secured
Soooo, that is the building in which I shall be residing. The amenities include: dark hardwood floor and trim, gas stove, bike storage, blinds. I'm on the top floor so no jackasses pounding around waking me up. NOW, I am the jackass!! Seriously, it's great. Soon as I walked into the courtyard I knew this was where I wanted to live. Back in the early 90's there was a movie called "Singles" starring Matt Dillon. It was "Friends" but set in Seatle during the rise of the Grunge music scene and was supposed to be a slice of life for Generation X. This group of friends lived in a courtyard building that looked like this building, and ever since I've wanted to live in a building like that.
A little about the neighbourhood. Lincoln Park is north of downtown Chicago and probably 15 minutes on the bus to get me to work. Cool. My place is 1/2 way between Lincoln Ave. and Clark St., two of the major "happening" streets. LOTS of restos and bars. It has the feel of the Annex here in Toronto, but a little more upscale. Many quiet narrow residential streets with old stone buildings shadowed by trees. The side streets feel European, yet walking to a main street you realize you are unmistakably in Ahhhmerica.
later
A little about the neighbourhood. Lincoln Park is north of downtown Chicago and probably 15 minutes on the bus to get me to work. Cool. My place is 1/2 way between Lincoln Ave. and Clark St., two of the major "happening" streets. LOTS of restos and bars. It has the feel of the Annex here in Toronto, but a little more upscale. Many quiet narrow residential streets with old stone buildings shadowed by trees. The side streets feel European, yet walking to a main street you realize you are unmistakably in Ahhhmerica.
later
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