- Thursday night’s D’s experience was quite satisfying — the service, which had slipped for a while there, was plenty good, and the Chicago veggie dog doesn’t disappoint. What did disappoint me was seeing that Mario’s pizza is gone, and apparently has been for some time. I’m beginning to contemplate perhaps moving to Regent Square sometime in the future, and that’s one plus that gets scratched from my list (alongside “clay tennis courts at Frick Park,” because the city doesn’t keep them up anymore — good grief).
- Two or Three Things I Know About Her also was worthwhile — it began a bit slowly, I thought, but the central garage scene was wonderful (the same scene repeating over and over again from different vantage points, underscoring the impossibility of truly seeing or representing an event — though it perhaps didn’t need to be underscored given the tendency of Whispering Godard the Narrator to drive home certain points). The son of the main character, roundabout six years old, was also notable, at one point describing in detail a dream about twins on a dangerous precipice becoming one, representing (as he sees it) North and South Vietnam, and at another point detailing his take on the girls in his class using deductive reasoning to evaluate the possibility of friendship with them.
- Friday night, the New Yinzer event at the Brillobox wiped me out early from overstimulation, but before I lost my ability to keep on, I got to see some good folks read and hear a little music, and down a Blue Point Toasted Lager, pretty favorable in my opinion (though I’m no connoisseur).
- Saturday brought a performance by a band featuring my two bandmates, which was pretty sweet, replete with rock-out part in which I learned that Spencer is as good a drummer as I if not better (and I’m pretty sure he hasn’t been playing too long). Then back to the Brillobox for another try (I kept my composure this time) and Wax Fang (a dude who sounds like Cat Stevens singing with a kind of proggy pop-rock band, much more enjoyable than what it sounds like based on what I just said) and Centipede E’est (who put me in a good state by showing a Steelers DVD and playing New Sudan, somehow creating a beautiful geographic nexus through multimedia layering — especially pertinent while God Grew Tired of Us is showing at the Regent Square).
- I live more and more within a realm of run-on sentences and emdashes.
- Check out this huge ice phallus that formed underneath our furnace exhaust pipe (this picture makes it look like the Phallus From the Black Lagoon or something, given the fog):
- More later. This is already too long and far-reaching. Cheers!
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