I adore this photo by Doug DuBois, called "My Father." Look at those toes! It's reminscent of my own memories of floating out in the Atlantic with my grandmother and grandfather. I always thought we were just like big seagulls out there bobbing along with the incoming waves.
I love this time of night in Chicago. This is summer evening down the pub when getting pubgrub and a drink outside with the dawg is still delightfully possible. It's also when each window of every downtown building reflects this same light back onto the city. It so happens the top level of the parking garage at the new Dominick's on Chicago Ave. has a surprisingly great view of the windows' reflections. You might not think of a grocery parking lot as a prime picturesque spot in town, but don't knock it... Killjoys.
I still remember the first time I heard The Rat. It was at the beginning of a very long and veddy veddy bad Sunday. One that started with a bike messenger "set-up" over pizza and ended with me and the messenger's formidable friend fighting over mac & cheese on GTA's pull-out sofa. Cringe. I was introduced to The Rat through the headphones of said forbidable fellow earlier in the day, and though I wasn't in the least attracted to him, I'd nevertheless go on to minorly make out with him by the end of the shameful night. Let this be a lesson to those who try to set me up.
The fact that I continue to listen to The Rat, a musical time machine straight to that icky Sunday, is a testament to just how much I like the song. Oh, and this new one ain't too shabby either.
