So as to be transparent about the whole process, i moved all my shit from 53rd street in hyde park, a neighborhood i have lived in on and off for seven years (and still work in) and drove it in a borrowed white jeep grand cherokee laredo edition to a dignified rental property somewhere in the badlands between pilsen and little village (read: little village). all of this is fine. the cat is fine. but on one of the last or penultimate or semipenultimate walks to work down dorcester avenue i had a mildly affecting experience (it is getting milder with the passage of time).
camera eye:
walking down s. dorchester avenue to work. an old man, bundled up to face cold weather in a decidely old-fashioned way. giant dog with jowls. nobel winner? cranky grandpa? dog is peeing at behest of owner. i smile at both. dog tilts head at me. old man doesn’t react other than a piercing gaze. make this less ohmo.
unplaceable eastern european lady asking me for directions to the medical center. kid in backseat. some kind of unspoken problem always expresses itself to me when asked for directions to the hospital? something crappy happend in their weird dented foreign life.
bah whatever. it’s 4:37 and i’ve been wasting time at work on and off for two hours. it might be time for me to go home. some shit about battlestar galactica, a weird nonsensical comparison of johan santana to a revolutionary war general, a misplaced rap lyric. fuck this, for like five minutes then. i am going to try to finish invisible man, think about john ashbery without actually any reading any of his poetry, then contemplate some kind of weird flickering idea that the internet gave me. instead i should just go to an arts and crafts store. i had an idea about trying to start painting.
successfully moved to la villita. anybody needs me i’ll be in marshall square in the cool saltwater glow of Chicago Police Department security cameras.
now with late-breaking very short imprecise captions.
cellphone camera memories of: Austin, TX, Jan 2008. that is the state capitol as seen through trees and part of my finger.
this is what work looks like at an academic conference. i spent monday afternoon setting the booth up and friday afternoon tearing it down, and the intervening time was spent keeping the booth company during its too-short life.
i should have gotten a better pic of dude’s leg; it also feature the St Louis Cardinals logo; he had a very simple story behind all of them (he’s from StL, went to school in Milwaukee, liked baseball, didn’t give a shit what got tattooed on his leg. There you go.
I found it weird and funny that there was most of a four-pack of bottles of Chimay, which is made by monks in belgium, scattered in the leaves on the side of the road off south congress. most people who care enough to drink chimay have like a house or a tent to enjoy it in, instead of just a roadside ditch.
texas school for the deaf. has a dope retaining wall surrounding it, plus their rad text logo.
a face on a breaker box.
you can’t really tell at all, but this was a shirtless dude riding a mountain bike in traffic with a CAT ON HIS SHOULDER. and the cat was loving it.
the progression (or regression) of cities with their respective pants-sluttiness factor is a weird poem to the moment during the early 1970s when everything went wrong permanently. also, i like how the girl herself gets more louche, just in her general comportment, as her pants-style liberates her soul so that she can fulfill her lifelong dream of… not wearing a shirt.
i have since bought this shirt. it has way too much screen printing on it and is kind of itchy. but i also think it rules. two separate people in the past 10 days have told me i have “bad taste.” whatever. homo noeticus one true snack for the soul, is what i say.
the oilers weren’t from austin.
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this is going to be the background photo on my cell phone until i get a new one; also, it was a poster on a dumpster.
me + travis bickle. in the men’s room of a kind of bogus pizza place on south congress.
do not get rabies. as much fun as it sounds like to pick up a dead bat, please restrain yourself.
this was a plaque about the lady who shot a cannon off to prevent sam houston from moving the state capital back in teh day.
bag, turkey.
this is a velvet bruce springsteen painting. n/c.
more cellphone folkart.
my humidifier was having a rough morning. he smokes marlboro reds.
that is a waxcoated piece of cheese that does double duty as an abstract expressionist depiction of brett favre. and a bottle of antidepressants.
also, a dog with two noses. it has a good sense of smell.
decamping to la villita until june. prepare for some kind of mexican-american theme housewarming event with pinochle tables. and chilaquiles.
word i had to look up in the dictionary today: plangent.
also, for SVU hardcores only: a painting of ice t. i am awaiting the painting of adam beach taking those two kids to red lobster.
