After several years of not cooking, I’ve been getting back into it lately.  I think it has a lot to do with the fact that I have people to cook for.  In Chicago I was pretty much on my own and limited my culinary activities to making myself salads.  Now however, I have my grandmother and parents in close proximity and willing to eat whatever I prepare. 

 

My mother writes and self-publishes books about local history.  She’s planning a party in about two weeks to thank the people who helped her on her latest book.  Since she doesn’t like cooking and I do I’m going to be doing a lot of the food preparation.  The tea I went to on Halloween gave me some great ideas (glazed pumpkin scones, walnut bread with cream cheese and apple slices, pumpkin pie meringues) and I’ve also been watching Food Network for inspiration.

 

Last night I was watching a Halloween themed “Horror Cake Challenge” and I was surprised to see a familiar face.  One of the competing chefs was Michelle Garcia from Bleeding Heart Bakery.  Bleeding Heart is a funky organic bakery in Chicago.  They were originally located in the Ukrainian Village neighborhood right down the street from my sister’s place then a couple years ago they moved to Damen and Belmont, only a couple blocks from the Whole Foods where I worked.  Michelle occasionally came into the market.  She was easy to recognize with her pink dreadlocks and prominent tattoos of mixing bowls and egg beaters.  Unfortunately Michelle didn’t win the Challenge or the $10,000 prize but I always considered her to be a local celebrity of my Chicago days so it was ever so cool to see her on national TV. 

Since Easter I’ve been pretty busy between work, family, medical appointments and a story I’ve been working on for lgbtfest.

My Dad was in town from New York State for a five day visit. I was working most of the time but managed to get over to my sister’s place to see him everyday. Also yesterday I had off so I showed him around my neighborhood, Logan Square. He was of course interested in who it was named after and the history of the monument, things I knew nothing about but luckily there was some information posted at a kiosk so I got educated about my area as a result of his visit.

We also talked over my future plans. I’m not sure if I’m going to continue living in Chicago. My lease expires in September and when it does I may move back to New York. If I do return to my hometown I’m not going to live with my parents indefinitely as I did in my 20’s. I’ll either find of job and an apartment of my own in a city (probably Utica or Albany) or live with them for a few months until I can set something up and go back to school for writing. In the meantime I’m going to try and start looking a better job and researching schools while I’m still in Chicago. Now that I’m less depressed there’s a chance I can make things work while still living here. Pa is being very supportive, he’s not pressuring me to leave Chicago like my mother would but made it clear that if I feel like this stage in my life is done I’m welcome to live at home until I figure out where I’m going next.

He’s in the middle of a very emotionally charged time himself. Early this year his mother, who lives in a suburb of Philadelphia, was hospitalized with pneumonia. When he visited he was pretty distressed by the conditions she was living in. Unlike many older people she’s not hurting for money, but both she and my grandfather (who passed away in the 1980’s) were antique dealers and their house (as well as a barn out back) is packed with stuff to the point where many of the rooms are unusable. Everything was also pretty dirty and covered with dust.

My grandmother agreed to get rid of some of the excess and since my father is an expert in antiques with a lot of connections he’s spent the last few months making regular trips to Pennsylvania (about a 4 ½ hour drive) to sort through things and organize an auction that’s going to take place next month. During these visits he’s had to go through a lot of drama with his brothers and sisters and assorted nieces and nephews who all feel they know best not to mention Grandma who has always been very good at making him feel bad by deliberately doing things to belittle and exclude him even when he’s doing her a huge favor.

When he was talking to me about this, he said that he’s really starting to not be concerned with things anymore. He said that five years ago he would have had problems with getting rid of things and would have probably gotten into arguments with his sisters over who got what, things like that but now he’s able to let things go. He didn’t say so explicitly but I know this has to do with the religious revelation he had two years ago. He’s changed so much since then and I really respect that though I continue to struggle with faith.

My father used to have a very strict, unforgiving interpretation of religion that I didn’t agree with. He’s moved beyond that, yet in a way I haven’t. In a lot of ways he defined religion for me and I always find myself returning to his old definitions. I know I’ve recently referred to things like the idea that by interpreting the Bible selectively I’m “cherry-picking” and therefore can’t be a “real” Christian. I don’t know that my father would think that mattered anymore yet I still let it matter to me.

This is something I’ve been thinking about a great deal lately, though I can’t seem to compose my thoughts the way I’d like to. I was hoping I’d be able to do so today (I’m off work and Pa went back to New York last night) but instead I’ve just been wiped out all day, probably a combination of my recent activity (and using said activity as an excuse to eat as little as possible) and the sweeping changes in the weather (from the 70’s to the 30’s). I actually ended up falling asleep for a couple hours this afternoon, something I generally try and avoid as I find it disorienting.

There are a lot of things I want to write about—religion, the a performance of Mary Poppins I attended last week, the stuff I’ve been readings lately and my lgbtfest story… Hopefully I’ll be feeling a bit more focused and energetic tomorrow.

St Patrick’s Day has been called Chicago’s Mardi Gras in the worst sense of the term. It’s basically a trashy, touristy drinking binge. While St Patrick’s Day isn’t actually until tomorrow, around here the party started a couple days early. On Saturday I was driving to work at 7:00 a.m. when I spotted my first reveler in gilded green plastic beads and an enormous leprechaun hat.

Not to be a pretentious killjoy (well, I am actually am a pretentious killjoy) but I can’t help but find it all a little crass. I’m of Irish extraction on my mother’s side and there’s more to Irish culture and heritage than an early morning pint or ten of Guinness.

Despite centuries of conflict and oppression (the Irish had been dealing with terrorism for decades before it became a hot button issue) Ireland has a rich history of poetry, music and storytelling. Ireland spawned quintessential wits like John Lennon and Oscar Wilde and great writers such as James Joyce and my own sweet baby William Butler Yeats.

There’s much more there than dying a river green and drinking till you puke.

In honor of my personal vision of St. Patrick’s I’m posting three of my especial favorite songs on Irish troubles and a favorite quote--

The Luck of the Irish by John Lennon and Yoko Ono

The Luck of the Irish by Shonen Knife

Famine by Sinead O’Connor


“Do you not get it, lads? The Irish are the blacks of Europe. And Dubliners are the blacks of Ireland. And the Northside Dubliners are the blacks of Dublin. So say it once, say it loud: I'm black and I'm proud.”

Jimmy Rabbitte
The Commitments

A few final thoughts on the election.

 

First, this is a huge deal for Chicago.  I talked to my father this morning and he said “It looks like Chicago’s taking over Washington.” I believe my response was “Hell yeah!”  I have a co-worker who’s sort of an old hippy and didn’t vote but even he was excited about the rally in Grant Park and the appointment of so many Chicago people to Obama’s Cabinet.  He was saying at work yesterday “I didn’t support Obama but I think it’s really great that the over night the eyes of the world were on Chicago.  Not New York, not L.A, but Chicago.” 

 

In my last post, I expressed some apprehension about Obama’s win.  I can always count of WBEZ to help me work through things. 

 

Yesterday on Morning Edition they had some really excellent pieces looking at Obama’s election, what it means, and what’s going to happen next. 

 

A segment titled “Obama Must Manage Great Expectations” took a hard look at the problems the Obama presidency is going to be facing (including the war and the economy) and realities like budget restrictions and political divisions across the aisle and within the Democratic Party.   A lot of people, including myself, have very high hopes for the Obama presidency but it’s important to keep in mind that there are going to be limitation to what he himself can do.

 

However as later segment beautifully illustrated, Obama isn’t in this alone.  His big accomplishment so far is that he’s motivated thousands of people, many of whom have felts powerless, voiceless and helpless for a long time.  Obama had been able to galvanize his supporters and inspire them to work for change.  He’s the face of a movement that contains boundless energy, potential and real power.

 

This collective energy and enthusiasm is what can get us through all the difficulties and problems.  It’s vitally important not to let it be dissipated by the disappointment of too high expectations.  Real change and reform will not come quickly or easily and it won’t come at all if the burden of bringing it is laid on a single man.  It’s up to all of us to keep the momentum going. 

 

And finally I’m so glad the campaign is over.  It was nasty and ugly and I lost a lot of respect for both McCain and Obama over the course of it.  I felt like McCain did show a great deal of the sort dignity that had been sorely missing on both sides in his concession speech and I wish him the best. 

 

I feel towards McCain rather like I felt towards Cesar, an assistant Team Leader at work who transferred to another store a few months ago.  Cesar and I had a bit of a rocky history.  I felt his supervising style was intrusive and bullying.  He put me through some pretty hard times and I in turn questioned him on certain issues.  I saw him again last week when he same back to the store for a conference and I gave him a hug and asked him about his baby and the new store he’s working at.   I think he was pretty surprised, but honestly, I always kind of liked him.  I just didn’t like his style of leadership.  I never had anything against him I just didn’t want him being the boss of me. 


Barak Obama Chicago Reader cover by Derek Erdman


Alternate cover in case John McCain had won.  

Over the weekend I finally got out and did some serious bike riding.  On Saturday morning I rode to an ANAD meeting which was a couple of miles away and then on Sunday I rode to work. 

 

It’s taken me an inordinately long time to get back on my bike this year.  Part of it has to do with the crazy weather we’ve had this spring (I actually just missed being caught in a really bad storm yesterday) but it’s mainly fear, sort of a delayed reaction to my accident last summer that was really brought home when I found out that two cyclists had recently been in fatal accidents not too far from my neighborhood (one death was literally a block away from where I live).

 

On April 20, 22-year-old Tyler Fabeck was hit by a car at the intersection of Logan Boulevard and Western Avenue.  On April 30, 24-year-old Amanda Annis was killed at the corner of Kedzie and Armitage (another girl was killed at the same corner back in September). 

 

When I rode my bike to work last year, I often went through the Logan Boulevard/Western Avenue intersection and frankly it made me very nervous because of the heavy traffic and poor visibility because of a highway overpass.  When I was riding over the weekend I tried to stick to side streets, though you really have to get on a main thoroughfare with a light to get across Western Avenue. 

 

Right after Memorial Day weekend, something called a Ghost Bike was put up to mark the spot where Fabeck was killed.  A Ghost Bike is a bicycle that’s stripped down, painted white and chained to a place where a cyclist died as a memorial.  After it appeared, I hiked down to the intersection and took some photos of it.  Since then some more candles and flowers have been put around it.  It’s really a chilling reminder of what can go wrong and I’m trying to be really careful when I ride this year and also to drive more carefully and pay more attention to bicyclists.

 

If anyone is interested on more information there was a piece about the Ghost Bike's on Chicago Public Radio a few weeks ago.

On Wednesday night I went to see a reading by Lydia Lunch at Quimbys (an underground book/comic book/zine shop on North Avenue).  I was a little hesitant to go because I’ve been feeling off lately and really don’t want to do much but stay home and watch movies. 

 

Lydia Lunch looms large in my personal pop culture hierarchy.  She was one of the women featured in Re/Search’s Angry Women anthology, a book that went a long way towards shaping my feminist sensibilities.  She was also one of the first American women in punk rock and her scary, sexy little girl persona would be a huge influence on Courtney Love’s archetypical  kinderwhore persona.  Despite this impressive resume, I’ve never really been a fan of Lydia Lunch’s work.  Her music never really impressed me and I found her writing ugly, extreme and disturbing without being illuminating.   Also I’m a little scared of her. 

 

Still, I decided to attend the reading.  Lunch turned out to be one of three authors reading that night, the others were Arthur Neresian and local boy Joe Meno. 

 

Neresian started off with an excerpt from his novel Swing Voter of Staten Island.  It was a sort of science fiction action adventure crossed political parody.   Something about tying Ann Coulter to the roof of his car like a deer.  It was juvenile and very violent and not nearly as funny as it should have been. 

 

Lunch was next.  I was sort of relieved by her physical presence.  She’s not very big which made her a little less frightening to me (she and illustrator Bob Fingerman did a comic book called Bloodsucker a few years ago that featured a character that looked like Lunch performing acts of sexual vampirism.  I know you shouldn’t confuse authors and their characters but I guess I sort of see Lunch as the Bloodsucker character).  She read from Paradoxia: A Predator’s Diary which was written a decade ago but only recently published in the united states.  Before she started reading a stoned out young kid, maybe about 19 or 20, with a fresh, vacant face came up and sat at her feet then kissed her shoe.  Careful what you wish for, silly boy.  After all, this is the woman who sent Nick Cave scampering.

 

The excerpt Lunch read (which she assured the audience was all true) was about her experiences as a teenaged runaway in New York City in the 1970’s, basically living by stealing, turning tricks and occasionally stripping.  A potentially terrifying situation but Lunch denies fear, presenting us instead with a seventeen year old heroine who is the most dangerous creature on the streets, out of exploit everyone she encounters, a sort of a reversal of Sade’s hapless Justine.  From what Lunch read, Paradoxia: A Predator’s Diary does seem to take a very Sadian worldview where everything, especially sex, is really about power, about using, about fucking someone else over. 

 

Lunch may be a predator but I’ve always considered myself prey, so I have a hard time identifying with her writing.  Maybe it’s because I am at heart hopelessly Christian and middle-class but I’m not sure if I believe in her brand of fearless amorality and not sure if I want to.  Still, her performance did a lot to enhance the material.  She brought a lot of humor and bravado to her reading and was quite engaging all things considered. 

 

Joe Meno was the final reader, following Lunch.  Quite a few people in the audience left after she finished, which I thought was sort of rude.  How hard is it to stick around for fifteen more minutes to support a local writer?  Of course I have a soft spot for Joe Meno.  I’ve haven’t gotten around to reading any of his books (Hairstyles of the Damned, How the Hula Girl Sings, Bluebirds Used to Croon in the Choir) but I’ve seen him read about half a dozen times at various venues around the city.  He’s an expressive reader and real cute to boot.  He looks like a nice little boy (even though he’s in his 30’s—33 to be exact, two years younger than me and all those books published.  Sigh.) then you notice the sailor tattoos.  I actually found the piece he read, from his first book Tender As Hellfire which was just put out in paperback, quite engaging.  It was narrated by a twelve-year old kid, all about a haunted barn, taxidermy eyes and an annoying girl, and was really funny and actually made me wonder what the rest of the book was like.  I’d actually seen a copy of it at the library just a few days before.