chicago nights

our living room!



Southside Irish Parade



Green river


survived my first "walk home alone at midnight" in my neighborhood. i was a little scared of rapists with guns and knives, but the only person i saw was a freakishly old haunted-house-esque lady with a tangled nest of white hair, whispering nonsense to a cat on her porch. i didn't see a single hooligan waving a knife with rape in his/her eyes, plus NOW i know that a witch lives in the neighborhood, a fact that i'm really rather proud of. "oh, the witch of wrightwood ave?" i'll say, offhandedly. "why? do you need any spells cast? because i said hi to her one night. i could probably get a discount."

really, though, my neighborhood pretty much has the atmosphere of north cap hill -- a bunch of stately old houses that used to be filled with the bourgeoisie and are now filled with puerto ricans and the hipsters who like the idea of living in a "diverse neighborhood." the traffic lights are hilarious -- a parade of pristine lowriders bumping that OOM PA PA music, battered corollas filled with children having tantrums in spanish, and then a gaggle of bearded and american apparel'd fixie riders, doing trak stands and staring into the distance in a manner which clearly suggests that they hope that everyone around them thinks they're composing a poem, or thinking about how small their carbon footprint was for that particular day, and how they're going to go home and eat chicken masala tikka and listen to mozart on a 78 before heading back out to drink pabst at the local mexican bar, where i happened to be spinning records last night.

i've been reading too much david sedaris lately. what this translates to in a concise blurb is: chicago is rad.

ok now i need to find a job.