Archive for the 'Confessions' Category




The King of Chicago

Couple of weeks ago, Chris (one of my 5 roommates at 900 N Damen) was back in Dallas briefly before leaving for India.

We went out to a dive bar called Ship’s Lounge to catch up. Among the information Chris passed along to me, which included an amazing story of how mistaken identity transforms ordinary men into murder suspects, the item that was most relevant to me and this blog had to do with last summer’s lawn project.

Apparently, the Elvis tapestry remained (remains? seeking verification) far longer than it was ever intended and even garnered attention from the illustrious Chicago Sun-Times.

The story was from July 28 so I had to pony up $2.95 to gain access to the full text, but, what the hell, I’ll pass on the savings to you, oh loyal reader.

(If you’re from the Sun-Times, don’t get your panties in a wad. You might even view this as a scoop since I’m revealing the origin of the display.)

July 28, 2008

In Ukrainian Village, Elvis is ‘always in the building’

Neighborhood joke takes on a life of its own — even if woman who lives there doesn’t worship The King

Mitch Dudek; The Chicago Sun-Times

What once was simply an Elvis Presley floor rug has taken on a life of its own in Ukrainian Village.

“The people who lived here before me had it on the living room floor and hung it up in the front yard to be funny when they moved out in September,” said Monica Prata, one of five 20-something roommates who rent the “Elvis House” at 900 N. Damen.

Since then Elvis has made some friends — and one foe. Fans left candles and little Elvis photographs in front of the sign on Jan. 8, Elvis’ birthday. A mysterious RIP Elvis tombstone was placed in front of Elvis on Halloween. On some days, cars slow down and honk approval. But one Elvis-hater drew a moustache on The King with a black marker recently.

Prata’s own relationship with Elvis is bumpy.

“People always saying ‘Oh! You live in the Elvis House.’ It gets annoying. I don’t even like Elvis,” said Prata, who works as a makeup artist and studies English at Northeastern Illinois University.

But Prata believes it’s fitting garnish for a house she describes as a “dive” in the middle of an increasingly trendy neighborhood — and she has no plans to bring down The King.

Melissa Cecola, the owner of the Spotland Yard pet boutique across the street, thinks the sign reflects the neighborhood’s artsy roots and uses it as a landmark when giving directions. “I love Elvis. He’s always in the building,” she said.

Twenty yards south, Katie Plikuhn, 25, paused between customers at Piccolo eatery Thursday to reflect on the Elvis sign. “There are two type of people: Beatles people and Elvis people . . . and maybe Rolling Stones people. I’m a Beatles person.”




2007: A Year

chicago.jpg Overview
For me 2007 was filled with very little activity or progress, hence my decision to move back to Texas to reboot. Basically it was a knee-jerk reaction to winding up in the hospital twice in as many months without any health coverage. That’s a major oversimplification but it was the last straw before the reassessment of my priorities.

I miss Chicago. I miss my friends. I miss the places I frequented.

Enough reminiscing; onto the fun stuff.

G’BLAH PLAYS FAVORITES
A few years ago, say 2002/3, many of my friends would compile top ten lists. I think this stopped once Neal moved away and the internet became saturated with such lists, prompting what will be known in the future as “Early 21st Century List Fatigue Syndrome.” I remember it being a lot of fun though. It was always interesting to see what my friends felt was the most engaging music of the year. There would always be surprises in everyone’s lists, even if we had spent the entire year talking about each of these albums. So I thought I might as well take a crack at it again. These aren’t necessarily my top ten albums. In fact there are 11, and I sure I’m forgetting some.

Best Album Ever*
scottwalker.jpgMy favorite Album of 2007 (easily) was Scott Walker’s The Drift. Technically this was released in June of 2006, making it the best album of 2006, 2007, and now, 2008. I was so busy gushing about The Drift to anyone who would listen that I forgot to gush about it here on g’blah.

It’s a lesson in history, poetry, avant-garde classical music, and experimental rock. And it plays like surreal horror movie. It is occasionally dismissed as being difficult to listen to, but I don’t buy that at all. Repeated listens reveal unique, inventive song structures that play between atonal and melodic tendencies. The lyrical themes work in a similar manner, often combining unrelated subject matter into cleverly woven concepts.

Oh yeah, he’s 64 years old and has made what I now consider to be the album of his career. I know I know… What about Scott 3 or Scott 4? They’re definitely still two of my favorites, but The Drift is a work so wholly unique and singular, it could never be duplicated or even approximated by another human being. A++++++

*A nod to the hyperbolic language of friends.

Actual “2007″ Albums I enjoyed:

  • Robert Wyatt - Comicopera
  • Panda Bear - Person Pitch
  • Richard Hawley - Lady’s Bridge
  • Grinderman - Grinderman
  • The Bees - Octopus
  • Radiohead - In Rainbows
  • White Rabbits - Fort Nightly
  • Black Lips - Good Bad Not Evil
  • Field Music - Tones of Town
  • Burial - Untrue



Moving To Dallas

After 6 fun-filled years in the Windy City, I’m going back to where it all began.

dallas_skyline_night.jpg

I’ll be couch surfing in Chicago until the end of September.
Somebody please stop me.




27 Going On 7

Yesterday was my 27th birthday. It was very relaxed. After work I went out with a few friends, nothing fancy. I usually don’t like making a big deal out of my own birthday so this was nice.

Really I’m a 7 year old trapped in this aging shell. I feel the same lightness and freedom from responsibility I felt back then. Combine that with a genuine lack of focus and observed childlike behavior and presto: Here I stand before you, a bona fide man-child.

At the age of 27 I have arrived at the conclusion that most of my pursuits are quixotic and will provide no stability in a mental or practical sense. I know, I know. Pretty grown up thoughts, huh? Well, consequently I do not foresee a home/car/vacation purchase in the next few years, nor do I think I will even begin to entertain notions of true love or starting a family. I can’t even commit to the idea of going on a date right now. Oh, but playing on my bicycles and guitars on the other hand… oh, I just love my TOYS!

 

peter-pan.gif
You’ll have a treasure if you stay there,
More precious far than gold.
For once you have found your way there,
You can never, never grow old.




Boiled Over

Ok, ok. I said I’d let the world know once I healed.

I went to the emergency room a couple weeks ago and got the little bastard lanced. It was painful for a few minutes, but according to the doctor I had done most of the difficult work myself at home. Yes, I am a medical genius. They gave me antibiotics and about a week’s worth of codeine. Two weeks later, I am completely back to normal. On a related note, if I saw you at the Pitchfork Music Festival a couple weekends back, I was FLYING on pain meds & alcohol and should offer an apology to anyone I came in contact with who dealt with my lack of coherence. I accept no responsibility for my words or actions, although if my memory serves correctly (ha!) I barely spoke to anyone and I’m quite sure I spent most of the time sitting down and having mostly pleasant thoughts on my most pleasant feeling ass.

On an unrelated note, last Friday morning at 1:30 am some lunatic in a white Jeep Grand Cherokee with Indiana plates tried to kill me and Tim at Damen/Addison as we were riding our bikes back to Wicker Park from Lincoln Square. Completely unprovoked, the guy ran me off the road causing me to endo and then he actually HIT Tim with his car, causing him to fall in the street. King Douchebag pounded on the brakes, slid his car to a stop in the middle of the intersection, then he, his squatty-looking buddy from the passenger seat who was now brandishing a knife & a really ugly female (species uncertain) pursued Tim on foot as he could not get back to his bike in time. I was about 50 yards behind and had just re-mounted my bike. Patrons from the Black Rock bar and residents of a nearby apartment building flocked to the street and the jackasses ceased their attack and ran back to the Jeep. I rode up behind them & took note of their license plates.

My guess is they were probably trashy 20-somethings from NW Indiana (sorry for the generalization, Hoosiers), drunk or coked up or both, coming into the city looking for trouble. Part of me hopes I’ll run into them again or, better yet, their vehicle though I’m not exactly sure what I would do. Inflicting damage on either driver or SUV seems fair at this point but yes, of course I know better. Damn conscience. Why do I have one when others seem completely devoid? This guy intended to seriously injure us or worse. I will never understand a desire to carry out random acts of violence on innocent people. However, I suppose non-douchebaggery can’t exist without douchebaggery. Yin/yang. I guess I’m over it then. Tim and I are fine. We took out our aggression on some innocent breakfast tacos the following day.




A Rolling Boil - Update 1

The ugly: I extracted a large mass of nastiness from the boil today, leaving an open sore that looks similar to a gunshot wound. According to my mother (a registered nurse and still my #1 source for all things health/injury related) this is actually supposed to happen, but due to the severity of the sore she has advised me to get my ass to the hospital.

The plan: I’m heading to St. Mary’s of Nazareth this evening. Chicago folks know this as the hospital that looks like a spaceship. Friends: if the building takes off unexpectedly, don’t worry. I’ll see you in the future at one of our new moon colonies.

stmary2.jpg




Pain in the Ass

At the end of last week I developed a saddle sore between my right ass cheek and my thigh. For those unfamiliar, I offer Wikipedia’s entry on saddle sores:

A saddle sore is a skin ailment in the nether region due to, or exacerbated by, riding on a bicycle saddle. It often develops in three stages: skin abrasion, folliculitis (which looks like a small, reddish acne), and finally abscess. Because it most commonly starts with skin abrasion, it is desirable to reduce the factors which lead to skin abrasion.

Basically it’s a boil on my ass and it has made sitting down an awful chore. I believe this began with a 20-plus mile race i participated in last Wednesday. Over the weekend it grew and became extremely painful. I have been doing everything in my power to destroy this pesky little visitor. Hot salt water compresses, ointments, rest, tea tree oil, squeezing, etc.

I contemplated doing a photo essay to track its progress but have decided that it is far too gross to share images of. It began draining today and, seriously, I dare anyone to find something more disgusting than what I have been seeing all day long. Ugh. Check back for progress reports and, ultimately, an obituary for this boil.

YouTube Preview Image



Son Of A Bitch

See? This is what happens when you second guess yourself while solving a crossword. Overthink the answer & YOU WILL GET IT WRONG.

Let this be a lesson to all the future problem solvers out there in internetland.

By my standards, this is positively inexcusable and I wholeheartedly apologize to anyone who believed the first answer was actually correct.

I mean: BLINGONTHEWIND? Honestly! WTF?




Geovrything Matters

Life Lesson #1

Every moment of every day can and will be immortalized with the help of the internet’s photographic memory.

So unless you’d prefer to discover something like this in four years, I’d suggest going with something safe & clever for your next Halloween costume.

But you know what?

Fuck it.

Yeah. And you know what else?

(photos courtesy of J.Dunn)




A ‘hip-hop’ guitarist?

The rumors are true.

After too many years meandering through the sterile Chicago underground scene in dead-end combos, collectives, and ensembles, I have been told my skills as a rhythm guitarist are much better suited for hip hop.

I played my first show with local legends Chino N Lester on Friday. As you may have guessed, the performance was a hit. My axe sliced and diced. Stopping at one point to turn a phrase, I glanced over my shoulder and noticed several women slithering on the floor as if possessed by a sexual demon. This never happened when I played light melodic jazz.