I Believe...
My Mass Shooter Fantasy
I have a fantasy where I stop a mass shooter by talking to him. I can’t be the only one.
The News We Need and How to Analyze It
Growing up, my favorite thing to do was my most mind-centering, physically relaxing thing to do. That thing was read the Chicago Tribune’s comics while eating cereal or Cream of Wheat—if it was cold enough—before heading off to school for the day. My father teased me: “What’s happening in the world, David?” My response was always the same. “Garfield still hates Mondays.”
I didn’t read any other part of the newspaper, save for the movie listings when I was making plans with friends on the weekends. Since I only had enough time to shovel down two bowls of Cocoa Puffs, the funnies were about all I could fit into my busy schedule. Plus, I had no interest in the news. Outside of what happened to Dick Tracy or the kids in Fox Trot, nothing in that paper affected my life in any way. The news was for grownups.
Like Crumbs of Fried Dough
It was the most improbable Homecoming Court in the history of the tiny Kansas high school and the outrage was high.
Standing on the 50-yard line were two couples nominated for King and Queen that fit the paradigm: a male football player with a female cheerleader. You know, the way things are supposed to be. And next to them, on the left of these two couples were Jean and I. She was a butch tennis player (the athlete of our pair) and I was the speech and drama kid.
Jean and I were not supposed to be up there. The social order of things did not support the nomination of such an unlikely pair and leading up to this moment the jocks and cheerleaders made it abundantly clear that they would not accept this high school equivalent of a mutated two-headed Korgi soiling their class identity.
Time to Purge Your Hoarder Palace
You All Need to Go On a Vacation
There are many lessons that getting the hell outta Dodge for a week provide. I'm certain I'll be parsing them out over the next few weeks but as I sit here on the terrace of our resort room 2,104 miles away from home, the most important one is that distance from your specific routine offers perspective on your world.
And perspective changes attitude.
I Believe...
Confronting the Undiverse Stage Poorly
The question I'm struggling with is this: is diversity of ethnicity always the best course of action?
Expanding Upon the Notion of 'Grit'
Talkin’ ’Bout My Gentrification
I missed the heyday of the Double Door, which had its locks changed and its spirit evicted from the shell it called home in the heart of Wicker Park for 23 years. As a high school kid from the south suburbs, the majority of my trips to the city for my preferred brand of music—and there were many of these trips—were destined for the Fireside Bowl. I left town for college in Las Vegas only three years after the Double Door opened.
When I returned to Chicago in June of 2007, I immediately began attending shows at the Double Door. And when I moved into the Bucktown/Wicker Park neighborhood in 2009, I cited easy walking access to the Double Door—and the Subterranean and other charmingly grimy, punk-artsy venues, restaurants and bars—as a leading reason for my choice in Chicago neighborhoods. That, and rent was reasonable for a single guy living on a freelance writer’s budget with a taste for cheap beer, artistic freaks, cute girls and good music.
Tyrants R Us
Once the tantrum thrower gains from the tantrum, it is twice as hard to dissuade him from employing the self same tactic for everything.
All Sandwiches Matter
It was the worst sandwich I've ever eaten but, in its odd way and in the context of the dining companion I was with, it was also the best one.
The Power Contract: Redefining Reaction
“I have no power over you that you don’t give me, and you have no power over me that I don’t give you. …” – Vi Hart
Bring Back Breakfast
I joined the club because it was comprised of some intelligent and sober folks - we all had in common a simple belief that pancakes, eggs and bacon were just about the best meal any time of day.
I Believe...
Your Five Year Plan is Pretty but Useless
Stop trying to predict the future - trust me, your prediction will be completely wrong.
Like Flowers on Graves
Sunday at the Empty Bottle, the amazing Angela Vela put together an afternoon show comprised of musicians, stand ups and storytellers all paying tribute to the unfortunately diffusive list of extraordinary talents who cashed out in 2016.
Luckily for Dana and I, she invited us to join. Dana decided her tribute would be to Harper Lee, who moments before her homage discovered had died on Dana's birthday. I chose to eulogize the Fifth Beatle, George Martin.
To Find the Right Answer You Have to Ask the Right Question
How hard is it to Google "Who is Frederick Douglass and is he still alive?"
Lessons of Birthday's Past
It's my effing birthday weekend, so let me lay down some more old cranky man wisdom on you.
Crossing Over Into the Second Half Century
Today, I am fifty-one years old. A full six years past my predetermined demise and a year into my fifth decade. What did I learn in my fifty-first year worth remembering?
...that intense and deep aren’t the same thing even if you’ve convinced yourself they are. Intense is momentary and fleeting; deep is the result of time and energy.