How Is This News?

City Hall Discovers Clout
Citizens Yawn, Turn to Get Fuzzy

Disaster

My computer has self-destructed. Again. No word on when this will be made better, if it can be made better. The problem? I tried to fix it myself. I caused it such pain that it decided it could not continue living. I drove it to suicide. This was such a bad idea. Never, ever try to pretend you know what you're doing when, clearly, you are an idiot.

However, this may be the impetus I need to buy a laptop.

The Future

I love that the future is just as weird as anyone could have predicted. All those years of reading Transmetropolitan have prepared me well.

Things That Have Happened to Me in the Past 24 Hours Based Solely On My Gender

Harassed on the street (sexually explicit version).

Harassed on the street (merely macho version).

Sat in the one free seat on the El.

Got on the elevator first.

Went ahead of a guy in line at my breakfast place.

Bled uncontrollably.


Seriously, I'm not sure if this all equals out.

Try Try Again

I got my hair done Saturday morning, which always makes me feel like a rock star. So I'm walking around showing off Saturday afternoon, which happened to be warm and sunny, and that's ideal, especially the sunny bit, as the sun glinting off my shiny new hair makes it all the more radiant and lovely. I'm walking up Broadway, headed to the Jewel for the weekly fruit and vegetable excursion, and this dude is walking down Broadway, for what purpose I know not. He's an odd looking duck, with a controlled-bushy beard and a beatup leather jacket. I imagine he's the son of one of the guys from ZZ Top. He says something as I pass him, which might be "Great color" or might be something in another language. I don't stop to talk to strangers on the street (unless they're really cute or carrying a guitar or something), especially not when I don't know what they're saying or if they're even talking to me or maybe just crazy, so I just keep walking.

Half an hour later, grocery bags in hand, I'm headed back down Broadway, and ZZ Jr. is walking up it, apparently returning from whatever his errand was. I recognize the beard from about half a block away. This time I'm paying attention as he says "By the way, great color."

"Thank you."

Always nice to get second chances in life, even if it's just to be polite.

I also think it's great that he started with "By the way," as though we were in the middle of a conversation.

Actual Names of Actual People

In my job, I see lots of odd names on the various legal documents that flood my desk. Here's a random sampling (I promise these are all real):

Urban Black
Lucretia Coffin
Anita Salaam (try to say that out loud and not giggle)
a family with the last name of Cockream
and my very favorite: Lola Tank.

Lola Tank. That's the name of a character in my first novel, guaranteed.

Uptown People and Their Habits

1) Stop signs and turn signals do not apply.

2) That bright orange Geo that's always parked out front of the weekly hotel? That's the coolest hangout on the block. 2 in the morning and there's someone sitting on the hood.

3) The bum with the voicebox buzzer thing gets kicked out of every single business from Winthrop to Broadway every morning. It's like a ritual.

4) The dudes in the Mexican breakfast place next to the El look at everybody like that. Don't let it bother you.

5) Sunday morning is the perfect time for large dough-balls filled with pork. Don't question it, just eat them.

Literary Map of Chicago

This is brilliant and I propose we begin one immediately for our own fair city. Nelson Algren, Sandra Cisneros, Stuart Dybeck, Joe Meno, Saul Bellow, Theodore Dreiser, Gwendolyn Brooks... There's a lot of work to be done.

We Are Victorious

Because I have the greatest friends in the world, moving was a breeze, took only a couple of hours, no one was injured, and nothing was broken except one plywood ikea bookcase, which probably deserved it anyway. Now my computer doesn't work and I can't find a good place for my comfy chair, but otherwise, I'm fairly settled. I love the new neighborhood -- it always smells like BBQ pork fried rice, when it doesn't smell like bad fish and exhaust. The El runs all night a couple of yards from my bedroom window, and I'm already addicted to the sound. A friend of mine who used to live in a similar setting says that eventually, you don't hear it anymore, it becomes part of the background, but I really hope that doesn't happen. It doesn't wake me up at night. It just reminds me where I am in the morning. I feel like I'm living in a real city again, not some quiet shady suburban lane. It's energizing. I think I'm going to be all right.