Sunday, August 31, 2008

barbecues and their discontents

mayday mayday... too much pulled pork, potato salad, baked beans, beets, coleslaw, corn bread, and ice cream pie. the ship is sinking.

Friday, August 29, 2008

nascar or football?

In a few weeks I'll be visiting my brother in Kansas City. I have a choice of attending a NASCAR race or a football game. It's a tough decision, but I think football will win out. I have to admit that I was a Chief's fan for one season when I lived in K.C. in my early 20s. It was Joe Montana's last season. Compared to the Bear's depressing games since I've been living in Chicago, the 1994 Chief's games were high-quality entertainment.

Thursday, August 28, 2008

The Ex and Getatchew Mekuria

A few weeks ago we saw The Ex on tour with Getatchew Mekuria (a famous Ethiopian saxophone player) at the Logan Square Auditorium. It was an awesome show. We were with a bunch of people we knew, and everyone was dancing. Even the owners of the amazing Ethiopian restaurant in Uptown were there boogie-ing down. It was just so fun. Check out the amazing music:

Tuesday, August 26, 2008

class of '88 bloat fest

While I was in Wisconsin I was missing my 20 year high school reunion that was taking place in San Diego, California. Luckily, my best friend from high school attended and gave me a little update.

Apparently, most of the men are unrecognizable. It seems that they've all bloated up and lost their hair. It's a group bloat. The fact remains that women age better than men (only the patriarchy wants you to think it's actually the other way around).

I perused some reunion pictures that were posted online while sitting at my desk this morning and realized that I was never friends with anybody at the reunion. Few of them would remember me at all, except maybe as that weird girl they never talked to. Firstly, I wasn't that popular. Secondly, most of my actual friends didn't make it to this reunion - I mean 20 years is a long time.

Mostly the "golden children" (that's what we called the blonde popular rich kids) seem to keep in close contact with each other and show up faithfully at all reunions - since high school days were their glory days.

At my 10 year reunion, which I did attend, I kept thinking "Wow, I never really liked any of these people." It was like looking in on someone else's reunion, people smiling, laughing, slapping each other on the back, while I'm glowering in the corner – just like high school! The one consolation is that I've aged better than most, and I'm just guessing here, but I bet my life has been more interesting than most as well.

Still I'm fascinated with the reunion photos. I do remember most people. And even though I wasn't close friends with any of them, we do share a common background. It's comforting in a way to see these people from so long ago. And if you've read this blog for a while, you'll realize that I'm nostalgic about absolutely everything.

Sunday, August 24, 2008

beware the bus tour

I try not to bash the Midwest too much. I try not to let my natural negativity seep into this blog, because really blogging should be about discovering the wondrous in the everyday, right? Right??

Let's just say that my trip to Wisconsin was not exactly wondrous. I had to endure a large gathering of pot-bellied middle-aged men, neverending road construction, lots and lots of hay, wilted iceberg lettuce, and the pièce de résistance.... shag carpet wallpaper (the carpeted walls were pretty amazing actually, okay one point for the wiz).

In addition to the overabundance of pot bellies, the Wisconsin landscape doesn't do anything for me. It's depressing. Granted I have yet to visit northern Wisconsin, which is supposed to be quite lovely. But around Milwaukee and up a bit it is just blah, the sky is a dull gray, and even the lake is like soda gone flat.

The one highlight was stopping at the River West Food Coop in Milwaukee that sells local yarn and yummy food and where we crossed paths with a bus full of people traveling across the country (is everyone and their mom traveling in a bus this summer or what?). The people were part of the "White House Organic Farm Project", and they provided us with unexpected entertainment.

In the midst of our lovely organic lunch, two members of the tour went at each other like, well... like two people who've been stuck on a bus together for too long. It was hard to suppress giggles as the two men got into a loud disagreement about nothing except that they were obviously sick to death of each other.

What people need to learn is.... being stuck on a bus with people is something to avoid at all costs. At all costs! If you've ever been on a bus tour, you know this in the core of your being, and you never forget it. I don't care what kind of good cause your bus tour is promoting.

Luckily no beheadings occurred at the Milwaukee "WhoFarmMobile" pit-stop (that would've ruined our lunch), but I'm afraid that the tour is not over yet... it's last stop is San Francisco!

Friday, August 22, 2008

going for fourth

The Olympics seem so unhealthy. Don't get me wrong, I am awed by the graceful ease with which some athletes perform, but I object to the massive pressure these people are under and the spectacle that we create for them. It is all about winning. It's all about a one-time performance.

How sad for someone to train for years, only to fail. To have one day of their lives define their whole being. It takes only a few seconds to become absolutely ruined. There is no after, it was all for that moment, so if you fuck up, you are a fuck up.

What kind of horrible lesson is that? It seems sad and unbalanced and lonely to be an olympic athlete. It's so similar to the competition and public humiliation featured on most reality TV shows - we're obsessed with the winners, but mostly we're obsessed with the losers.

We watch the Olympics to see superhuman feats of athleticism, but we also watch for the tears as someone breaks down with fury and shame when they come in 2nd or 3rd (or god forbid 4th). We watch to see someone broken.

Wednesday, August 20, 2008

me and little andy

If this Dolly Parton video doesn't give you the heebie-jeebies, then I don't know what will (make sure you watch it until she uses the little girl voice - ahhh! Scares me every time.)

wonderful wisconsin


Living in the Midwest means that I go places I never thought I would ever go, such as Wisconsin. I don't remember ever once considering Wisconsin when I lived in California, well, because there wasn't much reason to. Sadly, (and quite embarrassingly) I probably wouldn't have even been able to point out WI on a map.

This weekend I'm going to Wisconsin for a few days because Wisconsin is one of those places people who live in Chicago go away to every once in a while. I assure you there are good things in Wisconsin such as access to the magical and mythical Lake Superior and of course the Kohler wall of toilets (pictured above).

Saturday, August 16, 2008

emma


Emma Goldman is buried close to Voltairine de Cleyre. Visiting her grave was like being introduced to my favorite celebrity. I couldn't believe that she is actually buried there, it just didn't seem real. And Emma had once visited Voltairine's grave as well as the Haymarket Martyrs' monument nearby which means that she actually stood right there on that piece of earth.

Emma was an inspiring woman. Her autobiography Living My Life is amazing, reading it will give you a sense of her strength, passion, and her love of life; it also details the political situation at that time which was quite exciting. She traveled all over the U.S. speaking, she was a major influence. She spoke out against the Russian revolution when it was not cool to do so within the movement. Most importantly, she had integrity, and strongly held beliefs that she communicated brilliantly.

I also very much respect how candidly she wrote about her human weaknesses. In the book, she writes plainly about her naive beginnings, her doubt about the anarchist ideal, her disappointment with the movement, and her petty romantic dramas.

I always thought there should be a film made about her, just her, not her as a side character like in Reds (although I loved Maureen Stapleton in that role), but a whole movie about her life, because it was a juicy one and she is such a fantastic role model. Oh Emma, if only there were someone like you now.

Friday, August 15, 2008

the indecencies of continuous close communion


For his birthday A. wanted to go to the Forest Park cemetery to visit the radical's graves. Voltairine de Cleyre, a not-widely known anarchist writer and speaker is buried there. As a feminist, Voltairine's poetry and writing is often critical of marriage, to the degree that I often find quite funny. She makes a passionate case not only against marriage, but also for not spending too much time with your beloved in her essay "They Who Marry Do Ill":

Nowadays I would say that I prefer to see a marriage based purely on business considerations, than a marriage based on love. That is not because I am in the least concerned with the success of the marriage, but because I am concerned with the success of love. And I believe that the easiest, surest and most applicable method of killing love is marriage --marriage as I have defined it. I believe that the only way to preserve love in anything like the ecstatic condition which renders it worthy of a distinctive name --otherwise it is either lust or simply friendship --is to maintain the distances. Never allow love to be vulgarized by the indecencies of continuous close communion. Better to be in familiar contempt of your enemy than the one you love.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

living with merle


We have this cat named Merle. He will wake up whoever is sleeping on the left side of the bed by tapping you with his paw, usually on your face. Even though he's annoying, he's not as annoying as our other cat who obsessively rips up pieces of paper in the middle of the night, which leaves me wondering if I've mistakenly left something irreplaceable out, like my passport or an un-cashed check. It's as if we're just here for their amusement.

Monday, August 11, 2008

another thing about asheville

Another thing about Asheville is that it's haunted. Maybe it's something about being in a mountain valley, maybe spirits get stuck there. It's not like you are walking around seeing ghosts all the time. But, you can feel them. There is heavy history hanging in the air. A bit like New Orleans. It reminds me of a wonderful passage from Dylan's memoir Chronicles about New Orleans:

The past doesn't pass away so quickly here. You could be dead for a long time. The ghosts race towards the light, you can almost hear the heavy breathing - spirits, all determined to get somewhere...

A lazy rhythm looms in the dreamy air and the atmosphere pulsates with bygone duels, past-life romance, comrades requesting comrades to aid them in some way. You can't see it, but you know it's there.

So much has happened in those mountains of North Carolina. Native Americans attacked and finally driven off on their trail of tears. Settlers attacked by Native Americans before the final blow. Civil war rivalries galore, since this area of the country was bitterly divided. I'm sure all sorts of tragedies, hard times, and memories have occurred since those colorful long ago times too. Histories building upon themselves. There are certain places that hang on to the past more than others, and Asheville is one.

Sunday, August 10, 2008

The French Broad River



It's true that Asheville is a good 5-6 hour drive from the coast, which makes it farther from the ocean than I'm comfortable with, but it does have a river–the French Broad river. We spent a few days in a cabin by the river and had our coffee on its bank each morning.

The river differs depending on where you encounter it. The French Broad by our cabin was a lazy swirl of a river, with a gentle flow, mucky bottom and curves. The river gets more broad, and more choppy in parts and it sometimes floods, badly. It has a history of being unpredictable which made the upper French Broad a poor choice for river traffic despite people really wanting to build river ports on it back in the day. It's a stubborn river.

There's places in the city to spend time by the river such as a walking/jogging/biking trail that runs along it. Asheville also has a dilapidated industrial corridor that has transformed into the "river arts district." It's comprised of faded old warehouses converted into artist spaces and galleries. The river has an overgrown swampy feel to it here with (still active) train tracks running alongside it.

The sun likes to twinkle on the French Broad river, and near sunset it becomes a hazy glow through the trees. Birds also love the river. Each morning a white crane would silently and slowly flap its wings flying right above the water from one bend of the river to the other. It was spectacularly graceful. As we sat outside with our coffee, we joked that we were witnessing his morning commute.

Tuesday, August 05, 2008

not from here or there


We're back from North Carolina.

Just in time to experience an abnormally violent Chicago storm. Last night I thought a tornado was going to touch down. It was hailing, lightning, thunder, rain and wind like you wouldn't believe. Today, a woman told me that she grabbed her family photos off the wall and hid in the basement. I just closed my eyes and hoped it would go away. It was like the end of the world. But it wasn't.

North Carolina seemed tame compared to last night. We didn't encounter any southern thunder storms. But, it's a spooky land. We spent most of our time in Asheville. A beautiful town up there in the mountains. More about that later.