Getting With The Program

Not a bad first weekend back in the big city. I think I’m still readjusting after nearly three weeks of mostly rural, quiet southern-ness. Here I am back from weather that passes for the dog days of summer up here, all ready for backyard grill parties and short pants. But everyone else is in still in that winter rush, head down, bundled up in their winter gear trying to get wherever they’re going by spending the least amount of time outdoors as possible. Winter robot mode. I know it well. It's one of the preferred ways of gettin through the long, dark winters here, even comparably mild ones like this year’s. Just set yr shit to autopilot and move them feets.

Then again, maybe I’m not the only one ready for a change. After a few long looks out the window this weekend at the increasing number of bike riders weaving through the backed-up Cubs baseball traffic, there’s no doubt I aint the only one itchy for spring. They’ve all got the right idea. So that’s it. Time to end my winter hibernation. Time to dig up outta this burrow and enjoy the goings-on.

And thus, with that mindset, I kicked off my Chicago spring this weekend. Saw my pal Jill Summers perform her short story shadow puppetry at Jonathan Messinger’s Dollar Store Show readings when I popped on over to the Hideout on Friday. She was one of four authors reading, and really, there wasn’t a dud in the group. Or the tequila was just that good*. On Saturday I caught a free performance of Boston’s Devil Music Ensemble at the Chicago Cultural Center. They were in cinematic mode (as opposed to their equally excellent rock and roll configuration) as they scored a 1922 silent cowboy comedy film. And now today, the weather was so nice we ate breakfast on the porch for the first time since September. Between all that I got plenty of writing and household duties taken care of. As far as my life in Chicago goes, that makes a pretty good weekend, if a not particularly interesting blog post.

So, huzzah, springtime!!! Get yr ass a shakin. Pull a Fight 93 and, “Let’s Roll! ™”

*Some folks come back from vacation with a stash of South American produce, an ounce of Dutch hashish or a bad case of Southeast Asian clap, but thanks to hitching a ride on a good friend’s bender, I came home from Gainesville with a taste for tequila. My liquor proclivities rarely last too long (i.e. way, way into Vodka for three weeks in the month of December this year) so I’m not too panicked. But, shit, it’s tequila. Tequila’s real good at finding trouble. So, Campisi, if any subsequent Hornitos consumption leads to punitive action, I’m sending you half the bill, buddy.