Sometimes (tho' to most it aint no big deal) I can get various things done. Helps that my fone is out. No long distance calls to Matthew or other.
But up early in the morning -thanks you habitual habits of the workweek - and out to get heavy poundage for the Xmaskids of my family firstoff. When I have the pluck and time and mood to do so, I try to get the kids coinage and bills for birthday (and university goodbyes in August). Easier than actually getting trad presents, plus forcing my sense of difference on them. So, Stasser to my banque to fill up on $1 gold coins and $2 bills - all either golden or crisp (the crispness of papercuts if the angle is correct). Various calculations determine the amounts each of the eight get - Nephew.1 no longer gets his University subsidy, but since he is not only my godchild - but he is named after me - he gets extra. Partially, embarrassed to write, because in my penniless days he got shit. Amendment as well - he got even extra, because that real kool Sox pullover just was screaming to be (@ MArshals) bought for him. neice.1 and .2 get Xmas and the tardy University Subsidy. Nephew.2 gets only the Xmas - I was quite clear that any sold Fire Tickets profits goes back to me and not his pocket over the summer. The remaining five get only Xmas - Neice.3 will be joining the college ranks next year - WAIT!!
Then, from 106th and Cicero the ride down to famous 63d Street - the old neighbourhood, if a little west of it really - to Winstons. It's a ramshackle Irish goods food place. It's nice it's still there, tho' that part of 63d rite next to Midway is not so ramshackle as the store. My loved remark about the place is that it reminds me of a Soviet era store - bare shelves except for several cans and odd tins and MAYBE a box of crackers. But the shelves are not the point of this place - this place is a meat processing plant. No, no butchery, but it's here they fashion the black pudding and white pudding and sausages and bacon and all that great stuff for the customer to buy. Winstons has a fancy shamncy place in Orland - but it's all packaged here. And, since it was the Fry for Sunday Nite @ Gallos and Shipleys I was after - it was my perfect place today.
Got The Goods and then West on 63d to another hallowed place of youth - the Village Thrift store on 65th and Kedzie. Now this was the Old Neighbourhhod proper - these were the sidewalks and alleys always walked in glorious youth. No, it wasn't kool kloths to impress the trendy young things in university - instead it was the search for approproiate books to stock my schools library (plus any adult book I could scup up - what was that one I found's title - "Dirty Girl" or "Promiscuous Girl" or "Bad girl" or ....? - the title in none of these but whose essence contains all of these). Got massive loads of books - Strasser delivers me three for three - and then it wa South to home.
Early still, and it was time for walkies and bath for Bolo. It was nice out, so a long walk in reverse for us. Usually there is the walk up 112th West to Mt. Greenwood park, and then a clockwise circle and back home. This time I walked him up the alley N. of 111th to the park, then anticlockwise till 112th and home. And still I had energy swell. Bolo, after us forcibly kicking his steroids habit for him, needs baths to try to reduce his scratching - desperately for all of us. So, into the hated basement tub for a scrub a dub dub w. the medicated shampoo and the leave on conditioner. It works little, but since he went off the steriods we have to try anything to give him a bit of relief. Unf works little.
Finally - a walk of mother and I to 4pm mass @ Christinias. I knew this was my time to go since I had shit to do early and often to-morrow. Uninspiring, todays celebration.
All the Fame of Lofty Deeds.
Industry mixed w. Melancholy as the Nite! took over. I was burning time @ home w. Mom - amazing how II now really try to be the dutiful son and spend time a lot w. Mom (lazy ass fuck undeserving most of the time, but I'm trying...) because it kills me to think of her in the house by herself w. only Bolo, the newspapers, and the noon, 5pm, and 10pm news to keep her vcompany most of the time. So I try. But tonite had mighty melancholey memories to battle with. They were worth it.
Tonite was my last shot @ seeing "All ther Fame of Lofty Deeds", the latest play from the House Company. Melancholy for severals of reasons. One was the memories associated w. Gf. The House is now @ the Chopin Theatre in Wicker Park - one of our first dates way back when was to a play by some touring Polish company. This is where we sat/ This is where we swam/ hunted/ played. And the other was the company itself - although my absolute love of the House predates her existence by years, one of my favourite theatre memories ever was getting into one of their shows on the wait list late and facing the fact that we would not be able to sit to-gether for her first House show. However, a blessed person apraised the situation in a flash as we sat in our seperate seats of the sold out show, moved over one, and we were able to sit "to-gether" - a pole was in the way, but we were next to each other. i remember us excitingly holding hands quickly as the play started - not only did we get in as the last people on the list, but somehow - w. a strngers kindness - even got to sit to-gether.
And the other melancholey was me just burning time before the show - Since I had about an hour to kill, I first fed meself w. the local Wendy's, then walked North by Northwest on Milwaukee. Again, that feeling of swam/ hunted/ played/ walked spun thru' my head - Milwaukee yes, but where went the Macdonalds. Whats that massive pace where there used to be a lot? What goes on on this street where Jackson once lived? The Holiday? There were many grand times, battles fought and won and lost, new territories discovered and won and maybe even lost - on these streets. Lives - mine - were lived there. But now it's only Jackson and family who is there. And speaking of families, believe it or not, Wicker PArk now had tonnes of prams w. a single kid and mom and dad convoying about - could it be that mighty Wicker Park has now come to this?
A look @ the timepiece (present - guarded w. my life - from gf ... er, xgf) shows just enough time to skip to Myopic Books and back. Into the theatre, a switch of seats to a better view, an eye left and right to those whose leggs deserved another look, and the play started.
First half was slow. Niggling feeling that maybe this play was to be in toto a disappointment. That girls gorgeous legs. But then it all worked in the second half, and tears had to be wiped away - did anyone see me wiping?? Lofty Deeds was about a country and Western star who ended up a drunk pill popper. Famous w. his brother whose heydays were in the 1950-60's, he now was a wasting wreck fighting against the end. Death was coming for him, and he wasn't wanting it. I read the reviews after seeing it, and they made a big deal about commercialism and the loss of the artist's control. Yes, it was about that - but inevitably for me it was the loss of time and the need to fight fight against the dynig of the light before you are able to get it right. Yes, I know we all have to get it right, but I get it wrong so often again and again that it seems every piece of art is somehow about 'getting it rite'
Lofty, btw, was played by Nathan Allen - the big star of the House. He usually wrote, directed, and starred in many of the early shows of the House. Here was a play that wasnt written or directed by him - but he was the star. Another early memory of the House was their re staging of a play about Harry Houdini many years ago. I'd taken Jacob to it and he had no clue who Nathan was. During the play he ran out to piss, and coming back he happened upon this dude (Nathan, the writer and director) before sneaking back into the seating area. As is is wont, he talked to this to him unknown stranger and waxed greatly about the show. Then he asked the stranger "Do you know who wrote this?", to which Nathan replied "I did." Loved the story.
And I loved the play. Cant wait till the next one. Sated.
Lannigans.
HAd to have a last drink or two. Crowded, young females this geezer to gaze @, two Guiders to drink up, and a memoir of a Wellington bomber pilot in Italy to read.
My time wasn't wasted today, all halleaugh.
Then, from 106th and Cicero the ride down to famous 63d Street - the old neighbourhood, if a little west of it really - to Winstons. It's a ramshackle Irish goods food place. It's nice it's still there, tho' that part of 63d rite next to Midway is not so ramshackle as the store. My loved remark about the place is that it reminds me of a Soviet era store - bare shelves except for several cans and odd tins and MAYBE a box of crackers. But the shelves are not the point of this place - this place is a meat processing plant. No, no butchery, but it's here they fashion the black pudding and white pudding and sausages and bacon and all that great stuff for the customer to buy. Winstons has a fancy shamncy place in Orland - but it's all packaged here. And, since it was the Fry for Sunday Nite @ Gallos and Shipleys I was after - it was my perfect place today.
Got The Goods and then West on 63d to another hallowed place of youth - the Village Thrift store on 65th and Kedzie. Now this was the Old Neighbourhhod proper - these were the sidewalks and alleys always walked in glorious youth. No, it wasn't kool kloths to impress the trendy young things in university - instead it was the search for approproiate books to stock my schools library (plus any adult book I could scup up - what was that one I found's title - "Dirty Girl" or "Promiscuous Girl" or "Bad girl" or ....? - the title in none of these but whose essence contains all of these). Got massive loads of books - Strasser delivers me three for three - and then it wa South to home.
Early still, and it was time for walkies and bath for Bolo. It was nice out, so a long walk in reverse for us. Usually there is the walk up 112th West to Mt. Greenwood park, and then a clockwise circle and back home. This time I walked him up the alley N. of 111th to the park, then anticlockwise till 112th and home. And still I had energy swell. Bolo, after us forcibly kicking his steroids habit for him, needs baths to try to reduce his scratching - desperately for all of us. So, into the hated basement tub for a scrub a dub dub w. the medicated shampoo and the leave on conditioner. It works little, but since he went off the steriods we have to try anything to give him a bit of relief. Unf works little.
Finally - a walk of mother and I to 4pm mass @ Christinias. I knew this was my time to go since I had shit to do early and often to-morrow. Uninspiring, todays celebration.
All the Fame of Lofty Deeds.
Industry mixed w. Melancholy as the Nite! took over. I was burning time @ home w. Mom - amazing how II now really try to be the dutiful son and spend time a lot w. Mom (lazy ass fuck undeserving most of the time, but I'm trying...) because it kills me to think of her in the house by herself w. only Bolo, the newspapers, and the noon, 5pm, and 10pm news to keep her vcompany most of the time. So I try. But tonite had mighty melancholey memories to battle with. They were worth it.
Tonite was my last shot @ seeing "All ther Fame of Lofty Deeds", the latest play from the House Company. Melancholy for severals of reasons. One was the memories associated w. Gf. The House is now @ the Chopin Theatre in Wicker Park - one of our first dates way back when was to a play by some touring Polish company. This is where we sat/ This is where we swam/ hunted/ played. And the other was the company itself - although my absolute love of the House predates her existence by years, one of my favourite theatre memories ever was getting into one of their shows on the wait list late and facing the fact that we would not be able to sit to-gether for her first House show. However, a blessed person apraised the situation in a flash as we sat in our seperate seats of the sold out show, moved over one, and we were able to sit "to-gether" - a pole was in the way, but we were next to each other. i remember us excitingly holding hands quickly as the play started - not only did we get in as the last people on the list, but somehow - w. a strngers kindness - even got to sit to-gether.
And the other melancholey was me just burning time before the show - Since I had about an hour to kill, I first fed meself w. the local Wendy's, then walked North by Northwest on Milwaukee. Again, that feeling of swam/ hunted/ played/ walked spun thru' my head - Milwaukee yes, but where went the Macdonalds. Whats that massive pace where there used to be a lot? What goes on on this street where Jackson once lived? The Holiday? There were many grand times, battles fought and won and lost, new territories discovered and won and maybe even lost - on these streets. Lives - mine - were lived there. But now it's only Jackson and family who is there. And speaking of families, believe it or not, Wicker PArk now had tonnes of prams w. a single kid and mom and dad convoying about - could it be that mighty Wicker Park has now come to this?
A look @ the timepiece (present - guarded w. my life - from gf ... er, xgf) shows just enough time to skip to Myopic Books and back. Into the theatre, a switch of seats to a better view, an eye left and right to those whose leggs deserved another look, and the play started.
First half was slow. Niggling feeling that maybe this play was to be in toto a disappointment. That girls gorgeous legs. But then it all worked in the second half, and tears had to be wiped away - did anyone see me wiping?? Lofty Deeds was about a country and Western star who ended up a drunk pill popper. Famous w. his brother whose heydays were in the 1950-60's, he now was a wasting wreck fighting against the end. Death was coming for him, and he wasn't wanting it. I read the reviews after seeing it, and they made a big deal about commercialism and the loss of the artist's control. Yes, it was about that - but inevitably for me it was the loss of time and the need to fight fight against the dynig of the light before you are able to get it right. Yes, I know we all have to get it right, but I get it wrong so often again and again that it seems every piece of art is somehow about 'getting it rite'
Lofty, btw, was played by Nathan Allen - the big star of the House. He usually wrote, directed, and starred in many of the early shows of the House. Here was a play that wasnt written or directed by him - but he was the star. Another early memory of the House was their re staging of a play about Harry Houdini many years ago. I'd taken Jacob to it and he had no clue who Nathan was. During the play he ran out to piss, and coming back he happened upon this dude (Nathan, the writer and director) before sneaking back into the seating area. As is is wont, he talked to this to him unknown stranger and waxed greatly about the show. Then he asked the stranger "Do you know who wrote this?", to which Nathan replied "I did." Loved the story.
And I loved the play. Cant wait till the next one. Sated.
Lannigans.
HAd to have a last drink or two. Crowded, young females this geezer to gaze @, two Guiders to drink up, and a memoir of a Wellington bomber pilot in Italy to read.
My time wasn't wasted today, all halleaugh.
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