here it is

Okay, it's cold. The display across the street says it is fifteen degrees. This is winter in Chicago. And yes I can feel the hawk clawing at me. I only want to stay inside, imbibe hot liquids and cultivate my wintertime depression. This weekend it is supposed to drop down to 8.

argyle street

This is what Argyle Street looked like when we got there. It was cold but the Vietnamese food was hot.

trees in the cemetery on the way to argyle street

I love the trees in the cemetery. All bare with branches like arms reaching out, they look like indifferent sentries by the grave stones. The trees don't seem to mind that we plant our dead by their feet as long as they get to keep reaching out their arms like they do.

chicago neon love

i miss my friends

I miss my friends. I miss my friends. I miss my friends. I miss my friends.

go bears

There is nothing better than watching a football game with a bunch of Chicagoans while the snow softly falls outside. People jumping up and cheering, eating sausage and saurkraut, high-fiving, drinking beer. Because it isn't about the Bears so much as it is about how much you love Chicago. Every Chicagoan wants Chicago to win, especially if money is riding on the game.

i miss you sf

Last night I lay in bed viscerally missing San Francisco. That city with it's spikey skyline harbored my dreams and grew my ambitions like tiny pearls. It doesn't hurt that San Francisco is drop dead gorgeous. Remembering its craggy pockets of fog, magical moons hanging pregnant in the sky, a few of many fantastic city visions. It took 13 years of walking it's steep streets to feel a part of it's fabric. Now it's like holding an ex-lover's hand close to my heart, and wishing we could go back in time atleast just to visit. What I miss most is feeling a part of things; a part of a funky, crazy little city, where you feel like you know everyone, where you have a favorite bar, where you've kissed on enough street corners and dropped enough tears until eventually you've cracked the pavement and left an imprint. Where you can see yourself still walking in that foggy shifty San Francisco air woozy from finally feeling just right.

the life aquatic

After watching a scary serial killer show on TV (seriously what else is on these days), there is nothing better than putting in a dvd of the fantastically ridiculous The Life Aquatic. I had been warned that this movie was not as good as the other Wes Anderson flicks, but I was in the perfect mood for it, plus I grew up watching Jacques Cousteau. The absurd ship with a sauna and whales peeking in the portholes, the bluegreen warm colors and the intricate mise-en-scène where sometimes you can see hallways and doorways and backgrounds that continue for days, the fake overly dramatic sub-plots, the silly sweetness of the characters–this movie will bring you back from the depths of depression. It took a while for me to warm to Wes Anderson, but I have become awed by the insanity of his imagination. His movies are cotton candy with a good soundtrack reminiscent of my pre-teen fantasy worlds. Thank you Mr. Anderson.

blue

The Gene Siskel is playing a bunch of Kieslowski movies. I saw Blue on Tuesday. A film I remember loving in my early 20s. It is still wonderful; why I liked such a melancholy film back then confuses me. As I watched it, I did feel immersed in blue – it conveys the weight of grief, especially grief carried by a young person. The most satisfying part is watching the light play off Juliette Binoche's face. The camera loves her. Kieslowski allows such small moments to really tell the story. The music is also very lovely in this film.

the coast of california

Looking at a map of California is like looking at my palm. Something I never really studied before, but when I take a close look it reveals all kinds of things. As I scan the lengthy coastline, I realize that I've driven the entire length of California. In fact, I have driven certain stretches innumerable times. From Chula Vista to Eureka every place has a memory. Some drives are too torturous to tell, but others were crazy freedom. Most of my life is mapped out in that coastline; California is imprinted upon me. What the heck do I do with that knowledge?

california dreamin'

I stood on Sunset boulevard in a short pastel dress holding my movie prop – a pack of cigarettes in a genuine 1960s package. My hair and make up was done like a starlet. I could sense the celluloid promise in the soft spring breeze, it felt warm and perfect, as if a spotlight was following me around. Los Angeles was all mine. The director had hand-picked me to be in a small scene with the lead actors. It was all becoming real in front of the Whisky a Go Go. The hard sidewalk felt like marshmallow as I stepped inside the California dream. They can make you into who you wish you were.

remember when empanadas

Last night as I was making empanadas to last throughout the winter, I remembered all the moments in the past few weeks that made me feel the acute passage of time. "Remember whens" – each as cumulatively sweetsour as a pomegranate seed.

the lure of the mouseketeers

When I was eight I thought the absolutely most magnificent place in the world you could go was Disney World. I really wanted a Mickey Mouse Club in my back yard. And when my mom told me that Annette Funicello was a doll, I thought she meant she was an actual doll. That simple sentence confused me for years.

on becoming something

I am one of those people that doesn't have a career, but I do fantasize about having one. These are my fantasy careers: Powerful Sleazy Politician, Serious Documentary Filmmaker, Professional Crafter on Etsy, Bakery/Cafe Owner, Botanist or Tree Doctor, Astrology Writer, Fearless Investigative Reporter, Rockstar, Pertinent Cultural Essayist, Meteorologist, Feminist Theorist and Icon, Historian, Complete Cultural Dropout. Things you couldn't pay me a million dollars to be: ER Nurse, Pilot, Garbage person, Pundit, Highschool teacher, Therapist, Prison Guard, Cop, low-paid Nonprofit worker. May success find all of us in 2007.