“All I Ask Of You” is to throw out your trash. Also, it’s surprisingly sad to see sheet music lost on the street. đ
Sick burn.
Though “I heart cock” is a regular staple of bathroom graffiti, this helpful Crock Pot edit is new to me! Great work, team. Plus, we all know Crock Pot could use as much re-branding help as possible.
Well, you’ll live. You just might not enjoy it as much as if you weren’t so worried about it all.
Um, OK, but when is “close”? File under “super unhelpful.”
And these bears look pissed about it. No picnics in da club, lil buds!
I’m sad this place is closed. Not only is Salt ‘n Pepper Diner, like, the cutest diner name, but “Seasoned 1965”? Spicy word choices all around!
William Faulkner’s advice to writers that “you must kill your darlings” is so true it hurts.
Come watch comedians share in our misery at the new monthly Den Theatre showcase named after this famous Faulkner truism. At this stand-up comedy series, once a comedian has told a joke on the Killing Your Darlings stage, they can never tell that joke on the stage again.
It guarantees you’ll never see the same show twice! And it challenges the comedians to flex their writing muscles. (And I’m running sound!)
Come check out the first installment on Friday. See you soon. B-Y-O-Red-Pen.
Last week I was very sick courtesy some cute lil germies in my tum courtesy my cute lil nieces and nephews who had the same lil germies in their tums the week before.
It sucked. Especially since I had spent the week before that with a head cold. Sick and tired of being sick and tired, or something like that.
As I lay nausea-stricken on a bed of applesauce-soaked crackers and a mountainous pile of unread emails, I considered how sick Iâve gotten this past year. It feels like itâs been more frequent than ever before? Is that right? Is my immune system caving? Or am I just paying more attention to my body than ever before? Both?
That, of course, rendered me helpless to do nothing but steer down a rabbit hole toward the dimly lit Hall of Fame Of All My Other Major Sicknesses. My 32nd birthday is this week and, with that time marker in sight, I remembered the stomach flu I had had a week before my 29th birthday.
Aw, poor poopy birthday girl!
Between bathroom bouts I made promises to my body to take better care of it as soon as it felt better. I acknowledged my sins against it and recognized that though I donât put it through the ringer anymore with alcohol, I still fall into some traps that are the opposite of that totally-having-a-momentâidea of self-care, which is ultimately all about slowing down to take better care of your mind and, thus, body.
For example, I donât eat well and sometimes I donât eat at all. Iâll get so focused on a task I forget to eat. Or Iâll be weird about what to eat â because Iâm trying to be either a) healthier, ironically enough, or b) a guilt-ridden veg and not a health-positive one. And when that happens, I donât get enough calories that a body Iâm making go-go-go all the time needs. I follow the same extreme patterns with sleep. Itâs a deadly combination. Or, well, one that leaves me, I think, more vulnerable to catching any cool ass looking germs that fly my way.
This meme making the rounds is too real.
At one point in my sickness boredom last week (you can only spend so much time on Pinterest), I started combing through body positivity apps, of which there seem to be about two, to download on to my phone.
I’ve never gotten too into the body positivity movements. Not because I don’t care. It’s just that one only has so many hours in a day.
But if thereâs anything Iâve learned in sober recovery, itâs that help can come from the strangest sources and you have to just go with it. I used to listen to motivational speeches for weight lifters to get myself in a good headspace to go to a brunch sober. Ha!
All these things are tools and, like a castaway trying to make it on a lonely island, you gotta use that shit in whatever way you need to survive. Start thinking of your phone as your Wilson Volleyball, ya dig?
“Stop crying and take some Pepto, biatch!”
I downloaded the free Rise Up app, which is for self-monitoring eating disorder recovery. I know I don’t have an eating disorder, but Rise Up is more about offering friendly reminders to check in with yourself and how you’re thinking about food. I just want to make sure I eat breakfast more often instead of waiting until 2 pm to finally eat something–and Rise Up’s meal tracking helps me do that. The app’s “911” and stress management tools have actually been super helpful as I get nicotine cravings.
I love how technology has made independent recovery like this possible. You can cobble together tools from all over the place, for whatever it is you’re struggling with, from big problems to tiny-tummy-flu-induced self-awareness about something you’d finally like to address.
And the more you do that hodgepodging of skill sets, the more likely you are to find positive coping techniques in the strangest places.
Like… the wrestling ring…
Swoggle vs. Craig Mitchell!
I love watching Chicagoâs Freelance Wrestling matches. It’s like watching sweaty, sophisticated choreography but with a lot of grunting and cool intro music. We went to Saturdayâs event in Logan Square Auditorium and it didnât disappoint.
Iâm not naĂŻve enough to think that any industry based in physicality, especially pro wrestling, isnât without pressures to conform to a certain body standard. But there’s certainly some atypical beauty about something thatâs part theater, part sport â it just wouldnât be as fun if everyone looked the same.
The Freelance lineup last weekend included bodies of all shapes, sizes, abilities and genders. Watching Gregory Allen, AKA Iron Curtain, AKA an awesome wrestler who also has cerebral palsy, dominate in the ring was magic. Cleveland, Ohio, represent!
But the best part is that theyâre all running around in their skivvies. And if not their skivvies, super tight pants, brah. Itâs excellent eye candy, sure, but I appreciate that so many bodies are on full display, in all their glory, without that being the main issue.
We didn’t have to take a moment to pause about how brave some of them were being for bearing all nearly 300 pounds of themselves. We paused for how brave they were for willingly flippity-belly-flopping onto a hard surface.
The main issue is some made up, stupidly delicious story line. (And, for fair-weathered fans like me, if Stevie Fierce is wearing a shirt or not.)
And thatâs it.
In wrestling, the body love doesnât necessarily rely on what that body looks like. It matters what it can do.
And how strong it can handle the blows thrown at it.
Poet Forugh Farrokhzad is credited with sparking the feminist movement in Iran, and her poetry has been likened to the mournful style of Sylvia Plath — women ahead of their time trying to fly with broken wings. This new novel uses Farrokhzad’s journals, interviews, poetry, and private writings to fictionally reconstruct the life of this revolutionary woman and writer.
After Beatrice Ousterhout finds the body of a young girl while out for a walk with her dog, her police detective daughter, Jes, works the case. Jes unravels as the case unfolds. Will she reveal to Beatrice the secret about her father that threatens to undo her completely? (Stay tuned this month for an interview with the author Cynthia!)
I spotted this inclusive “guide to growing up” for girls in the New Non-fiction section of my library. As I celebrate my 32nd birthday this month, I’d say I’m pretty far past needing some of its advice, which includes sections on male and female anatomy; coming out; accepting rejection and staying safe online; body issues; love and sex; and so much more. That being said, I think there’s so much to learn from Karen Rayne’s thoughtful and informed voice and subject mater. I hope this work colors future discussions about sex education for girls and boys alike.
Join me and eight other Youâre Being Ridiculous storytellers at Winnetkaâs The Book Stall, an independent bookstore located on Chicago’s north shore (a block away from the UP-North Winnetka Metra station, so no excuses).
High five to The Book Stall for regularly presenting a variety of book-related and author events. Recent guests include some girl crush mainstays, like Tavi Gevinson and The HRC.
Iâll be telling a story about the time I terrified a strapping young farmhand after my grandmotherâs funeral! Sound like a downer?
Neeeeigggh!
And thereâs, like any good story, a cat involved.
Tickets are here ($12) and spaces are limited so save your seat today! Hereâs the list of all the performers:
Ellen Barish
Mike Blumberg
Claire Zulkey & Steve Delahoyde
Sherry & Steve Fine
Elizabeth Gomez
Jackie Mantey
Jeremy Owens
“We need tens if you have any.” As seen at Nibbles, a gas station food stand somewhere in Michigan.
New life in a casino. Quite a different crowd than the hay barn days.
A bum machine at FireKeepers Casino. Get it? “Firing”? đ
(I also like that that needed to explain below “out of order” in case someone didn’t get it…)
PSA: Bath towels can’t swim. From the hotel room at FireKeepers.
Nonla Burger in Kalamazoo. I love all of these words. Including Nonla and Kalamazoo.
Decor at Nonla = old ads. “Take home big profits… with a Snack Kar.” Beat it, food trucks.
“Better than the movies! This young couple partakes of a little front-seat romance. In later years many drive-in theaters came to be known as ‘passion pits,’ as they were the only place teenagers could be alone. Archive Photos”
Passion pits!
So please stop asking the barista, OK?!
Roast coffee. Make cheese. Live free. Window shop.
I’d like to meet this Jose, of the Jose sign.
An artist’s last name that someone should co-opt for a villainous character they’re writing.
This could be read two ways. Luckily the city is not refusing.
Not just haircut. A cool haircut.
Some Cracker Barrel selections. Its got moxie, ya see!
Made U Look. See also: Russian Tea Time.
Doctor’s office sign, after hours. The variety of electric light signage in Chicago is a visual culture in and of itself.
There are many sad, tragic and/or ironic endings bespotting the relatively short history of pop music. But one that, ahem, flies under the radar is the story of Otis Redding’s death.
It came a mere days after he recorded what would be his most famous hit, “Sittin’ On The Dock of The Bay.”
A stormy night. A plane crash. Dead at 26 years old.
It’s so sad to me that he didn’t get to see how soothing this song would be to so many people. It’s a hit, sure, but it is my favorite kind — a sad song wrapped in a melody that makes you feel good, that reminds you why you keep going.
I’ve been thinking about this story lately. Mostly because I am amazed at how young Otis Redding was when he died. It makes me worry that I’m not doing enough. Accomplishing enough. Am I wasting my time on things that may not really matter? I worry that I spent my twenties to fast. I know I didn’t, technically, but I worry about it as I start to settle in a new, greater sense of self-awareness.
“Where have I been this whole time?” I wonder. “Because I finally feel like I have arrived in this body, this life.”
While the back of my brain was gnawing on this yesterday,”Sittin’ On The Dock of the Bay” came on my playlist. At first my anxiety deepened because, damn, he died right after he recorded his most famous song — a song about wasting time! How many people have missed their opportunities like that because of timing?
Mmmm… That song though… I couldn’t stay in a state of panic too long if I tried… Not with Otis crooning his cathartic beachy blues…
I could look at this the other way, I thought: It’s a miracle he even recorded this song when death was so close. So many things nipped on the heels of people like Otis, but he made it, even if things were cut short. Every moment is a miracle, really. Whether we spend it sitting by the bay or knee deep in dream making. Worrying about it all is the ultimate waste.
After all, this is my first Valentine’s Day as a wife, something I became after walking down the aisle to another Otis song. However it all turns out, I have a lot of moments to be thankful for.
Eve uses poetry, visual art and narrative prose to explore black girlhood and America’s unique injustices toward people of color, taking readers from the streets of ’90s Chicago where she grew up to a future yet to be determined. How will we determine it?
Hanif is a Columbus kid! He writes about this Midwestern life (with shoutouts to Columbus and Chicago alike), music, and so, so much more in this book published by Two Dollar Radio. I remember watching Hanif perform slam poetry while I lived in Columbus and being blown away at how deftly he could cut a sentence. Keep your heart there. Then fly you forward. My Chicago friends, come see him do an author convo with Jessica Hopper (“The First Collection of Criticism By A Living Female Rock Critic”) at Women & Children First next month.
The subtitle here explains it all: How to change the world with your wardrobe. Justin and I have instituted a no-clothes-buying policy until spring. April, to be exact. We’ve set a budget and are working on lists of what we want to buy. It’s been surprisingly relieving to have this self-imposed boundary. I am being very thoughtful about what I want to buy in the spring — not just because of the budget we’ve set but because I want to think of my wardrobe as a whole thing, versus a million cheap little pieces I replace on a whim. Having a shopping strategy has forced me to be more thoughtful about where I buy my clothes too. This book explains the basics of sustainable clothing, fabric and shopping, as well as the general arguments for why fast fashion is harming people and the planet. I don’t expect to change the world, but I hope to live a little more thoughtfully.
The venerable newspaper is proving its digital storytelling could be as revolutionary as the kind that sealed its print legacy. Three films from the paper’s Op-Docs series were nominated in the 90th Academy Awardsâ documentary short subject category. Here’s a convenient roundup of all three short films so you can watch them! Theyâre around 15 minutes each and are great for a short commute.
True Story
Speaking of great things to do on a commute: I recently ordered a subscription to True Story and am loving it! This pocket-sized mini-mag features one nonfiction piece a month, selected by the editors of Creative Nonfiction magazine (which I also just subscribed to and am kicking myself for not doing it earlier). The longform narrative medium thatâs explored in True Story is a cathartic antidote to the numbing (and dumbing) world of 140 characters and bite-me click-bait headlines.
Black Mirror
The âHang the DJâ episode on the new season of Black Mirror
I was perhaps particular to this episode because it is one of the few Black Mirror episodes that didnât leave me in a state of hives and high anxiety. Or maybe it was because I love the actor Joe Cole so much for his bad-boy-baby-brother role in Peaky Blinders that I think he can do no wrong. Or maybe it was just a happy ending in a dystopian world. Either way, I dig it. Itâs on Netflix now.
[schwing!]
The Post
The more I learn about the Pentagon Papers and the heroic story about the presses brave enough to publish them, the more Iâm surprised this story isnât more famous than Watergate. Queen Meryl Streep and Tom Hanks are, of course, perfect (and I loooooved Bob Odenkirk and David Cross as hard and bulbous nosed reporters!), but this new movie worth watching for its tense, well-timed drama and presentation of women who pushed the boundaries of business ownership. Oh, and also, you should know why the press matters and what democratic values can be accomplished when newspapers and the public value good journalism. This film is dripping with media morality. I needed that. Warning: The beautifully shot scenes of newsprint presses churning out issues will make my fellow former journalists cry.
âThe way they lied. Those days have to be over.â
