grist for the mill
I moved to Ashland Ave. on the first of the month, rooming with Drake. It's been chaotic but the new place is starting to come together. I'm further from work but closer to most of what I love about the city, at the junction of taquerias, poetry church, Ukranian estates, fire music, orthodox churches, improvised spaces. Wednesday at dusk we stretched out on the roof and watched firework fragments through the black and blue screen of the Loop. Come visit if you can.
Dan Clowes did an interview & signing at the Printer's Row book fest on Sunday. Challenged by an obnoxious fan about not producing "floppy" comics any more, he responded that it was an industry-wide distribution problem--the margins are too low for retailers. He also said that screenwriters are babies. His new book, Wilson, is good, though possibly goes too far in paring down the narrative. He did have beautiful eyes, as Meghan noted. I told him that before moving here my (not exactly positive) view of Chicago had been shaped by his comics. He sighed and said "yeah but it's all gone...House of Boris and the rest. It lives on in my dreams."
Fliter, a cafe that was long the anchor of Wicker Park, reopened in February a few blocks down Milwaukee Ave. from its old location. I just found out about it this week. The space is huge (2-3 times bigger than the old place), an ocean of couches, soft chairs & table lamps, the kids reading or carrying on about their bands, collective shows, street theater groups. God bless 'em.
Pilsen art walk on Friday. Had dinner and beers at the Skylark (more an institution than a dive, with a v. fine menu) with some friends & walked around. There was some book art I liked, a friendly photographer, the kind of paintings you might expect. Along Halstad at 17th, a series of galleries and balconies open onto a sprawling courtyard that feels like a place from a dream.
Dapper man sighting at Intelligentsia. Finely checked sport coat and matching cap that he folded and placed in his pocket. Large glasses, rounded at the corners where his eyes faded. He sat for a half hour watching people on the street. Something was following him like a sadness in which he had nothing invested.
Dan Clowes did an interview & signing at the Printer's Row book fest on Sunday. Challenged by an obnoxious fan about not producing "floppy" comics any more, he responded that it was an industry-wide distribution problem--the margins are too low for retailers. He also said that screenwriters are babies. His new book, Wilson, is good, though possibly goes too far in paring down the narrative. He did have beautiful eyes, as Meghan noted. I told him that before moving here my (not exactly positive) view of Chicago had been shaped by his comics. He sighed and said "yeah but it's all gone...House of Boris and the rest. It lives on in my dreams."
Fliter, a cafe that was long the anchor of Wicker Park, reopened in February a few blocks down Milwaukee Ave. from its old location. I just found out about it this week. The space is huge (2-3 times bigger than the old place), an ocean of couches, soft chairs & table lamps, the kids reading or carrying on about their bands, collective shows, street theater groups. God bless 'em.
Pilsen art walk on Friday. Had dinner and beers at the Skylark (more an institution than a dive, with a v. fine menu) with some friends & walked around. There was some book art I liked, a friendly photographer, the kind of paintings you might expect. Along Halstad at 17th, a series of galleries and balconies open onto a sprawling courtyard that feels like a place from a dream.
Dapper man sighting at Intelligentsia. Finely checked sport coat and matching cap that he folded and placed in his pocket. Large glasses, rounded at the corners where his eyes faded. He sat for a half hour watching people on the street. Something was following him like a sadness in which he had nothing invested.