C'est Vrai

I stopped into a great Chicago store, Sprout Home, the other day and couldn't leave before buying this card (plus 4 more) by Edward Monkton. It now sits in a little frame on my wall to serve as a truthfully humorous reminder... that one never knows when one will be crushed by a donkey falling from the sky. Zen.

Today's Marinade

Hell is other people. ASWOBA recently informed me (love that guy) that Sartre declared the most widely accepted interpretation of this "No Exit" quote as wrong. According to Sartre:

"Hell is other people" has always been misunderstood. It has been thought that what I meant by that was that our relations with other people are always poisoned, that they are invariably hellish relations. But what I really mean is something totally different. I mean that if relations with someone else are twisted, vitiated, then that other person can only be hell. Why? Because…when we think about ourselves, when we try to know ourselves, … we use the knowledge of us which other people already have. We judge ourselves with the means other people have and have given us for judging ourselves. Into whatever I say about myself someone else’s judgment always enters. Into whatever I feel within myself someone else’s judgment enters. … But that does not at all mean that one cannot have relations with other people. It simply brings out the capital importance of all other people for each one of us. (From the Imago playbill)

I read this a few days ago, and it's been resonating ever since.

riDICKulous

A lady up in Canada was recently compelled to complain to IKEA about a photo in its catalogue, which -thanks to some Freudian shadows- makes a dog's leg look like a giant human penis. While it's pathetic anyone would give a damn about the phallic mirage, IKEA's response is hilarious ~ They've assured customers it's only a leg ("See, see, the bulbous formation is actually a doggy knee. Swear!") while urging them to focus on all the cool products for sale instead of the giant dong.

p.s. Wikipedia's "penis" page is NSFW! What? This post required exhaustive research.

"Gone are the Days of Rainbows...

...gone are the nights of swinging from the stars."

In anticipation of seeing Mr. Cave and his Bad Seeds tonight (exciting!), here's an old favorite, "Straight to You." Sorry, the vid's scary, but I love this song with all its grandiose drama, befitting the most broken-hearted and weak ~

This is the time of our great undoing
...
Heaven has denied us its kingdom
The saints are drunk and howling at the moon
The chariots of angels are colliding
Well, I'll run, babe, I'll come running
Straight to you…

If you've ever felt that inexplicable draw toward another while knowing something's off yet you just can't keep yourself from going back 'cause it feels so good (for a moment), you can probably relate.

Counterintuitive

Caption: huh?

Can someone please explain to me why Chicagoans insist on piling on needless layers of clothing at even the itsby bitsy teeny weeniest sign of cooler weather? We're talking a 10 degree dip here, ladies. Even when the high still nears 80, if the morning is brisk you can count on seeing many a girl donned in absurd garb like scarves, jeans-tucked-into knee-boots, wool caps (no joke!) and leather jackets or long coats. We're talkin' *all*of*the*above*on*one*person, not just a scattered smattering. My friend swears she saw someone already sporting a puffy coat. I want to find that girl and throw paint on her. It makes no sense, but so help me I want to do it.

I get that most Chicagoans own an inordinate amount of cool winter gear. I get that, but I daresay we will all have plenty of time to show it off. As in EIGHT months. No need to jump the gun, eager beavers. I'm just sayin'.

Two-Faced Book

Carnies

Today I Learned

1. When one form of mass transit goes gangbusters awry, forms B (bus) and C (taxi) go down the tubes with it;

2. It takes 45 minutes for me to walk from my apartment to work;

3. It's a lovely day outside. 45 minutes of walking coupled with said lovely day equals plenty of time to work up some ole fashioned down home perspiration and lots of it;

4. Secret deodorant should be taken down for legal misrepresentation in a class-action lawsuit. (Any other class members out there?);

5. On even the most unbreathable of fabrics, a bold-on-navy pattern compassionately hides unseemly sweat; and

6. The most well-worn suede sandal flats still give blisters when one is on a mission.

And it's not even 10:00 a.m.

Dunzo

I do declare that my week and a half of work hell is hereby over. Silent applause in my head. Phewee, that was exhausting. Brain hurts. Apparently it's out of shape along with the rest of me (did I mention my gym is now not set to open until mid-October?). Le sigh.

Now it's time to enjoy the utterly deeeelightful weekend that Chicago has served up special just for us. Merci, Chicago. It's nice and sunny toasty out there, a midsummer day in late September. Perfecto for an evening of music c/o the Hideout Block Party. Cheers!

There's a Mouse in the House and There's No Doubt About It

I interrupt the intermission to post this pic in honor of Uneasy in the Bigeasy. I'd venture to say it's because of pics like these (and mental pics of mice be-pawing themselves on sticky traps) that, faced with the torturous alternative, UITB might rather let the little bugger squat in her place or allow him to return there after an overnight in Hotel de Vermin. Here's looking at you...

Is It Wrong?

That sometimes my arm gets tired just holding the cell phone up to my ear?

Meet My Neighbor

When I came across this little sketch, I giggled and instantly thought of my neighbor, "the rockstar." Although my hood's full of aspiring "musicians," I'm pretty sure he was this artist's muse. Other than his peacocky greatest-thing-since-sliced-bread-demeanor, I don't have any good reason not to like the guy.

Well, except for the fact that every.frikin.chance.he.gets he insists my dog makes his yappy weiner dog two floors up even yappier - "Um, yeah, your dog and my dog were communicating again today." or "Your dog was saying hi to all the passerbys again today." or "Your dog sure is a big talker." Imaginary response: "Oh yeah, well you sound like a valley girl, your hair is dumb, and you're too old and your hairline too receded to rock that look." Guilty groan.

And yet. His new girlfriend is a damn button. This is the one who moved in a mere TWO days after I spotted the old (but-still-cute) girlfriend moving out whilst sobbing. Neighborhood gossip mill has it that the new chickadee's a model, and though I originally figured it must be the JC Penney variety, I officially met her tonight and am now thinking I underestimated her potential.

I'm all about attraction proving itself to be more than skin deep, but I could not comprehend why this girl paired up with my neighbor the diva. Until... she introduced herself by saying: "I haven't met you, but I sure have met your dog." Birds of a feather....

A Reminder

Sensations Adrift

this pic reminds me of that long-lost feeling of swinging so high the chains *jerked* me right before the swing began its descent.

Haunted by Stockings

Does this sort of thing happen to everyone? While watching La Double Vie de Véronique, which was made back in 1991, I commented that I wanted to get a pair of the rust red tights like the ones sported by Véronique. Seemed like I hadn't often seen tights in that shade, and it looked very autumnally chic.

I made a mental note of it, but there was no need really because the very next afternoon I’m absentmindedly flipping through a J.Crew catalogue when what do I see but the precise shade of stockings I coveted plastered all over its pages. Then a day or so later I came upon this cryptic pic. I’ll take the stockings, hold the creepy carriage please. Those old-timey carriages always make me think of the one that rolled down the Odessa Steps in The Battleship Potemkin. Maybe it’s just me. Never fear letting this baby go, the precious cargo are ceramic bunnies in bowties and top hats. Fire away!

Anyhow, it’s one of those odd series of events that happens pretty often. It’s like learning a word for what you think is the first time and then suddenly seeing the word everywhere in tarnation. Or maybe it’s not like that at all.

Graffiti a la Nerdy

This cracks me up. If I gave graffiti a go, my result would probably look a lot like Edward's.

Last night I went to see a local show at The Hideout, a name-appropriate dive bar/music venue in town. I noticed that they redecorated the bathroom recently with odd stickers in different geometric shapes in seventies shades of peach, brown and yellow. Someone did not approve. Hovering eye level across from the commode was someone's judgmental scribble: "This is the ugliest bathroom I've ever seen." Below that, a devoted patron angrily responded: "Fuck you. I like it."