This morning I woke at eight, gobbled some raisin bran, and started walking. I trotted down Fullerton past Sheffield, then took the El to Armitage for no real reason -- it's not a far walk, but the air was fairly mild, so why not? (I almost stayed on the train for an elevated tour of Chicago, but past experience has taught me that halfway through the trip, I'll get antsy to return home.) Four Kraftwerk-lookin' indie rockers stood on the platform with me; they were thick-spectacled, pale, and thin. I felt instantly uncool for wearing my purple pajama top under my coat, even though they wouldn't see it. Indie rockers make me nervous.
When I was younger, I slipped into punk rock because I didn't (want to) fit in with mainstream culture. Now that I'm out of that scene, I still don't fit in with what I see, and so that makes me feel nicheless. If only bookish awkwardness would come into fashion. Then I'd be more popular than honey.
By the way, I have bypassed three big bargains in as many days. And I didn't buy a thing. Low-priced consumerism, I shall still triumph over thee!
Okay, so here's my clever Christmas present mentioned in passing below. My squirrely (but ultimately human) friend is getting thinner and thinner with each passing day. At this point, it might not be a bad idea to force-feed him lard-slicked Bugles in hopes of fattening him up. He says that he doesn't have time to eat, and that he'll make up for it later. When "later" is, your guess is as good as mine. So I went to the Jewel on Southport and bought three bags of groceries. Then I stayed in on Friday and cooked like crazy: pasta in sun-dried tomato pesto, rice and beans, spiced couscous, vegetable pie, and so on. Each dish got its own Glad Ware container, which promptly went into the freezer. See, the plan is that Squirrely Chum can reheat each dish and have a home-cooked meal in minutes (tm)! Unfortunately, after all this cooking --always after the fact do I remember these things-- I recalled that S.C. has a small refrigerator and an even smaller freezer. Ugh.
(Did you notice all my street name-dropping today? It's called LOCAL COLOR. ha ha ha.)
When I was younger, I slipped into punk rock because I didn't (want to) fit in with mainstream culture. Now that I'm out of that scene, I still don't fit in with what I see, and so that makes me feel nicheless. If only bookish awkwardness would come into fashion. Then I'd be more popular than honey.
By the way, I have bypassed three big bargains in as many days. And I didn't buy a thing. Low-priced consumerism, I shall still triumph over thee!
Okay, so here's my clever Christmas present mentioned in passing below. My squirrely (but ultimately human) friend is getting thinner and thinner with each passing day. At this point, it might not be a bad idea to force-feed him lard-slicked Bugles in hopes of fattening him up. He says that he doesn't have time to eat, and that he'll make up for it later. When "later" is, your guess is as good as mine. So I went to the Jewel on Southport and bought three bags of groceries. Then I stayed in on Friday and cooked like crazy: pasta in sun-dried tomato pesto, rice and beans, spiced couscous, vegetable pie, and so on. Each dish got its own Glad Ware container, which promptly went into the freezer. See, the plan is that Squirrely Chum can reheat each dish and have a home-cooked meal in minutes (tm)! Unfortunately, after all this cooking --always after the fact do I remember these things-- I recalled that S.C. has a small refrigerator and an even smaller freezer. Ugh.
(Did you notice all my street name-dropping today? It's called LOCAL COLOR. ha ha ha.)
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