Archive for July, 2009



July 29, 2009

my bike


Good, but not great

July 26, 2009

My favorite artist thus far in 2009 has been Elvis Perkins, and last night I was fortunate to be able to catch a pre-tour warm-up show at the Subterranean in the Wicker Park section of Chicago.

Hampered by a somewhat  mediocre sound system, the set did not quite meet my sky high expectations.  All in all I chalk the night up as triumphant success.

ep in dearland


War of Chicago?

July 25, 2009

I don’t know, perhaps this phenomenon is limited to the Lincoln Park section of Chicago, but something out of the ordinary is afoot and I am not the only hip to it.

Seemingly everywhere I look the women significantly outnumber the men.  My working theory is that this is  likely similar to how it was during World War Two, when men were off fighting.

Exhibit A:

war in chic


My New City Resolution

July 21, 2009

New Year’s Resolutions are nothing more than  artificial deadlines to turn your life around.     You want to change things, really shake it up?  Move!  Pack a bag, get on a plane and jet away from your comfort zone.   Leave your family, friends, girlfriend behind and go.

This week my company moved me into a super swanky rooftop apartment, located in the heart of Lincoln Park, hands down the nicest urban neighborhood you could possibly find.  I will use this occasion to mark my mid-July resolutions.

Here are the things I know will change for me in Chicago

– I resolve to pick up all my spills as soon as they occur and to never let them crust up or stain.

– I resolve to dedicate one dresser drawer solely to socks

– I resolve to never again trick myself into thinking that hiding a pile of clean clothes on the floor of my closet is the same as “putting them away”

– I resolve to fully realize that it never has and NEVER will only take me five minutes to shave, shower and dress and that I should allocate at least ten minutes.

– I resolve to buy things at the grocery store other than just Cheeze-Its and Diet Pepsi, even if those are the only two things I actually want to consume.

– I resolve to open my mail as it arrives and to never view my utilites “being temporarily suspended” as a friendly reminder.
That’s it for now, will let you know how I do.


Hey Boston, I love ya, but…

July 19, 2009

This past Friday a relatively small group of Boston Red Sox fans, apparently fueled by a few too many Miller Lite’s, put on a very public and very classless display of human behavior.

My girl was visiting from home, we spent the day sightseeing – both of us remarked on numerous occasions how amazing Chicago was.  The architecture,  the people, the food.   We agreed that Chicago seemed to embody the best parts of  the other cities we had similarly enjoyed.

After dining in Old Town, a particularly quiet and upscale section of the city.  As if cued up by the gods of “Ya DOOD” the peaceful cobblestone streets of upscale Chicago were transformed into the dirty alleyways that surround Fenway Park.

A tourist trolley was making its way slowly up the street, in the rear of the car were a dozen or so of the most obnoxious embarrassments the Boston area can claim as their own.  Grown men, dressed in Red Sox paraphernalia, (probably) drinking domestic light beer out of  foam cousy covered cans, were loudly and unintelligently  shouting things like “Ya Dood, da Red Sox Rule!” “Dude, Red Sox Nation Dude” and things of this nature.

One particularly clever idiot noticed a Boston Market restaurant and “Dude, Look BOSTON Mah-ket” “DUDE, BOSTON MAH-KET RULES”

They continued to shame themselves and the entire New England region by sexually harassing a girl in a skirt (who just happened to be my date) “Hey Honey , Lift Up Your Sk-aht!”

Does that shit work for them in Revere?

Generally, I don’t hold sexual predators or public drunks in very high regard.  Similarly I don’t have a whole lot of respect for do-nothing / knowitallall, loud-mouthed sports fanatics (…and don’t get started on how harsh and uneducated the Boston accent can sound).  However, the fact that this particular group of hooligans so loudly and proudly claimed their allegiance to “Bohston” were so unashamed of how much poorly they represented their hometown… or humanity.

Who knows how many other Chicago streets were similarly disrupted and inflicted – how many other girls were harrassed or even pawed.  I am now seriously considering just saying that I moved here from Maine.

Guys, if you simply must pay a shit-ton of money and travel to another city with your friends to watch other men in tight pants play a game as you scheme ways to cheat on your wife at home or otherwise drown out what a complete miserable failure your real life has actually become – please just go to Cincinnati,  leave my town alone.



Elvis Perkins & Hotel Bed Nights

July 13, 2009

Little routine I have developed and I share it for no other reason then its 4AM in my time zone and I have been betrayed.

At night when its time to try to get some sleep, I put my iPod on and listen to both Elvis Perkin’s albums.  They haven’t gotten old yet,  with each listen (and I am easily over 100) I  discover something new, subtle and gorgeous.  Some nights I allow myself to be overcome by his sad soundscapes, other nights I ponder the lyrics and end up googling song titles.

Tonight I won’t sleep, or at least not until it’s too late for it to matter and I hate that I love Elvis Perkins so damn much.



I am ready to admit this, I want a baby

July 12, 2009

For fuck sake NO, I do not want to be a parent.  I just want the picture.

Get this, I just read an article in the Times about a social experiment where they took wallets and littered them on the streets of London  – Overwhelmingly the wallets which were returned most often were those with prominent baby photos.