had a scattered day at work, paying bills, filing sales taxes, trying to finish a couple non-poster jobs, trying to get my frozen car started. the guys from the garage at the end of the block came down to help me push the car into the shop, where they declared the engine flooded. i opted for a full tune-up with new plugs, wires, air filter, and the works. the car was quite peppy when i picked it up later in the day.
some time after 5, i left work and stopped by the apple store to return the 'mobile me' package i had bought, which did not actually help me sync up my email between machines as i had been told it would.
i headed home, in the mood to paint the stairs, a project i started last weekend. this is how i know i'm getting old: a good friday night involves laying on oak stairs, painting the risers and the stringer a nice barn red.
di is at the table working on painting text for the spine of a new book, seth is asleep in front of the wood stove with ocho nearby. akiko is probably asleep in di's sweater drawer.
i grew up in chicagoland. i've been here my whole life, almost. this weather is not amazing to me - it is currently two degrees below zero, though right now it feels much colder. today, though, the temp is weighing on me heavily, and being inside the house feels more like being inside a tiny submarine. this wood stove has become my scuba gear, and some part of me is really feeling drowned by the cold.
fuck, i forgot to watch battlestar galactica.
Friday, January 16, 2009
alarms
my phone rang at 3:28am. i jumped out of bed, and said "this can't be good" to diana.
i missed the call, but called the number back. the alarm monitoring company for the shop was calling to tell me that one of the alarms was going off, and should they call the police? i said no, and pulled my clothes on. i was out the door and into the car in about 30 seconds, and caught all green lights as i flew the four miles over there.
on the drive i had the opportunity to think about my computer going away, or what other objects in the shop could disappear, and how that would affect me. i had time to think about installing curtains. i thought about finding someone in my office.
the shop was closed; no one had broken in. i looked around to make sure, and decided that the oversized new order poster had been moving the in breeze of a fan i moved slightly when leaving work, to blow air on the iced-over windows. i called diana, so she could go back to sleep, and drove myself home. i was back in bed at five after four, but of course couldn't sleep until almost five am.
i missed the call, but called the number back. the alarm monitoring company for the shop was calling to tell me that one of the alarms was going off, and should they call the police? i said no, and pulled my clothes on. i was out the door and into the car in about 30 seconds, and caught all green lights as i flew the four miles over there.
on the drive i had the opportunity to think about my computer going away, or what other objects in the shop could disappear, and how that would affect me. i had time to think about installing curtains. i thought about finding someone in my office.
the shop was closed; no one had broken in. i looked around to make sure, and decided that the oversized new order poster had been moving the in breeze of a fan i moved slightly when leaving work, to blow air on the iced-over windows. i called diana, so she could go back to sleep, and drove myself home. i was back in bed at five after four, but of course couldn't sleep until almost five am.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
thursday, very cold
seth woke us up at 3:30 this morning, and when he wakes us, he means business. the dog has to be pushed out of bed in the morning, so if he comes nosing us in the dark, he really has to pee.
i took him out to mark the neighbor's bushes, and then i stayed up looking a the internet until about 4:30.
this made it difficult to get up in the morning. di got up and ready for the museum, and after a proper dog walk, i slowly made my way to the shop, picking up sara at the train station on the way.
we got some private news last night which made us decide (after sleeping on it) to cancel the dianogah show in madison this weekend. there is too much risk and stress associated with leaving town, so we regretfully backed out. i spent the first part of the morning asking around for other bands to take our place, but on short notice, i couldn't find anyone.
the mass of the day was spent printing the last two screens on the "big shoulders ball" poster which we've been working on this week. andrew bird, ted leo, tortoise, freakwater, eleventh dream day, and a bunch of other greats are playing at the black cat in DC on monday night, the night before the inauguration. the show was organized by he people who bring us the production side of the pichfork music festival, and the hideout. we had many issues with the screen for the last color, but burning it a third time finally got it right.
sara stayed late to curate and count the prints while i signed them, so i could get them delivered to the hideout tonight. upon leaving the shop, my car would not start (as it is about ten below zero here). the battery was charged, the starter would crank, but the engine wouldn't turn over. i tried to avoid it, but wore down the battery by cranking fruitlessly. i called jason to pick me up, as diana was down eating dinner and going to a movie with X in logan square. i put sara in a cab for home, walked seth again, and we piled into jason's car when he arrived with arthur in tow. arthur sang sufjan stevens' "chicago" to me, and was floored when he realized i knew the words, as well. "i drove to new york in a van with my friend. we slept in parking lots, i don't mind, i don't mind." jason and i admitted to each other that these lines made us each think of a job i got in early 1995 driving a minivan full of high-end antiques to a show in manhattan. jason went with me. we drove straight out there, and slept in the van, in the heavy moving blankets, after we had handed off the hundred thousand dollars' worth of wooden furniture.
upon arriving home tonight, i ran over to the next block to make the alderman's meeting, but found the meeting cancelled. everyone had left just before i arrived, i was told. i returned home and found that i had somehow gotten ink all over my new-ish orange jacket, so i spent some time scrubbing that in the kitchen sink, until john arrived to pick me up and drive me to the hideout to deliver the prints. we sat at the bar for a drink, and upon returning to the van i found a plastic barrel, ideal for being converted to a rain barrel next summer. we drove over to el pacifico for food, on fullerton, near john's house. as we arrived, we saw faces we knew looking out the windows at us - bob weston and carrie weston and mary nisi. we joined them for dinner and margaritas. very nice surprise.
soon diana's movie let out, and she swung by to pick me up. we drove home, and i type this now, as diana climbs the stairs towards bed. i will follow.
i took him out to mark the neighbor's bushes, and then i stayed up looking a the internet until about 4:30.
this made it difficult to get up in the morning. di got up and ready for the museum, and after a proper dog walk, i slowly made my way to the shop, picking up sara at the train station on the way.
we got some private news last night which made us decide (after sleeping on it) to cancel the dianogah show in madison this weekend. there is too much risk and stress associated with leaving town, so we regretfully backed out. i spent the first part of the morning asking around for other bands to take our place, but on short notice, i couldn't find anyone.
the mass of the day was spent printing the last two screens on the "big shoulders ball" poster which we've been working on this week. andrew bird, ted leo, tortoise, freakwater, eleventh dream day, and a bunch of other greats are playing at the black cat in DC on monday night, the night before the inauguration. the show was organized by he people who bring us the production side of the pichfork music festival, and the hideout. we had many issues with the screen for the last color, but burning it a third time finally got it right.
sara stayed late to curate and count the prints while i signed them, so i could get them delivered to the hideout tonight. upon leaving the shop, my car would not start (as it is about ten below zero here). the battery was charged, the starter would crank, but the engine wouldn't turn over. i tried to avoid it, but wore down the battery by cranking fruitlessly. i called jason to pick me up, as diana was down eating dinner and going to a movie with X in logan square. i put sara in a cab for home, walked seth again, and we piled into jason's car when he arrived with arthur in tow. arthur sang sufjan stevens' "chicago" to me, and was floored when he realized i knew the words, as well. "i drove to new york in a van with my friend. we slept in parking lots, i don't mind, i don't mind." jason and i admitted to each other that these lines made us each think of a job i got in early 1995 driving a minivan full of high-end antiques to a show in manhattan. jason went with me. we drove straight out there, and slept in the van, in the heavy moving blankets, after we had handed off the hundred thousand dollars' worth of wooden furniture.
upon arriving home tonight, i ran over to the next block to make the alderman's meeting, but found the meeting cancelled. everyone had left just before i arrived, i was told. i returned home and found that i had somehow gotten ink all over my new-ish orange jacket, so i spent some time scrubbing that in the kitchen sink, until john arrived to pick me up and drive me to the hideout to deliver the prints. we sat at the bar for a drink, and upon returning to the van i found a plastic barrel, ideal for being converted to a rain barrel next summer. we drove over to el pacifico for food, on fullerton, near john's house. as we arrived, we saw faces we knew looking out the windows at us - bob weston and carrie weston and mary nisi. we joined them for dinner and margaritas. very nice surprise.
soon diana's movie let out, and she swung by to pick me up. we drove home, and i type this now, as diana climbs the stairs towards bed. i will follow.
Monday, January 12, 2009
monday night, burning a childhood tree
growing up, my parents' house had a one-acre back yard. this was mostly lawn, almost weed-free, and was great for frisbees or racing around with the dog. the yard was ringed by trees: poplar, oak, white pine, an apple tree, a towering willow, and various large trees i never identified.
off to the side was a corkscrew willow, a densely branched willow with (obviously) corkscrew-shaped branches, twisting like cartoon pigs' tails up in a graceful burst, tipped with long, slender leaves like the gigantic 'normal' willow on the opposite side of the yard. due to the density of the branches, this was a prime climbing tree, despite the relative thinness of the limbs. i stayed close to the trunk, was considerate of the tree's ability to support me, and weighed next to nothing myself.
a couple years ago, the tree came down in a storm, and my dad slowly cut it up, stacking the wood as he had time. i was sad about this, but felt that his was just another in a long (never-ending, actually) string of changes. the things you grew up with die, break, move away, are replaced. this is not news.
this past fall, when our expected source of firewood didn't pan out, diana and i collected what wood we could as the snow started to fly, and my dad and i spent some time chainsawing the larger remaining branches of the corkscrew willow into about 15-inch sections, ideal for my tiny wood stove. they stacked in my garage with other small collections from various local trees, and dried as best they could.
i'm sitting here at the kitchen table, drawing a glorious parade scene for a poster for a concert in washington DC, the night before obama's inauguration. it's snowing out here in evanston, the temperature is supposed to drop below zero for the next several days, and we expect blizzard conditions in the morning.
as i move to put more wood in the wood stove, where seth and ocho are asleep, i look at the twisted branch about the size of my forearm, and recognize it as my corkscrew willow. i remember hanging upside down from this tree, climbing it with various neighborhood kids. i remember cicadas, bats, and bee hives. i think of the daffodils that grew at the base of this tree, the area just south of the tree which would flood during thunderstorms, and camping in my tent near this tree.
the wood goes into the fire, sits briefly above the hot coals, and then bursts into flame.
off to the side was a corkscrew willow, a densely branched willow with (obviously) corkscrew-shaped branches, twisting like cartoon pigs' tails up in a graceful burst, tipped with long, slender leaves like the gigantic 'normal' willow on the opposite side of the yard. due to the density of the branches, this was a prime climbing tree, despite the relative thinness of the limbs. i stayed close to the trunk, was considerate of the tree's ability to support me, and weighed next to nothing myself.
a couple years ago, the tree came down in a storm, and my dad slowly cut it up, stacking the wood as he had time. i was sad about this, but felt that his was just another in a long (never-ending, actually) string of changes. the things you grew up with die, break, move away, are replaced. this is not news.
this past fall, when our expected source of firewood didn't pan out, diana and i collected what wood we could as the snow started to fly, and my dad and i spent some time chainsawing the larger remaining branches of the corkscrew willow into about 15-inch sections, ideal for my tiny wood stove. they stacked in my garage with other small collections from various local trees, and dried as best they could.
i'm sitting here at the kitchen table, drawing a glorious parade scene for a poster for a concert in washington DC, the night before obama's inauguration. it's snowing out here in evanston, the temperature is supposed to drop below zero for the next several days, and we expect blizzard conditions in the morning.
as i move to put more wood in the wood stove, where seth and ocho are asleep, i look at the twisted branch about the size of my forearm, and recognize it as my corkscrew willow. i remember hanging upside down from this tree, climbing it with various neighborhood kids. i remember cicadas, bats, and bee hives. i think of the daffodils that grew at the base of this tree, the area just south of the tree which would flood during thunderstorms, and camping in my tent near this tree.
the wood goes into the fire, sits briefly above the hot coals, and then bursts into flame.
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