(this is annie)


Erin and I are obsessed with becoming Missed Connections in the Chicago Reader. It's kind of pathetic, when you think about it. We probably pass up dozens of unmissed connections in real li fe because we're fixated on becoming a Missed Connection. Every Thursday, we e-mail each other to say, "Next time, someone will be looking for the tall bookworm who got off at Sheridan!" or "Just wait until somebody's looking for that quiet, clumsy girl." And that's great. I think we both know that the chances of becoming a MC, as we call them, are slim to none. Still, it's fun to pretend, fun to believe.

A while ago, Evan and I were talking about starting a band. He's always had this idea of me learning to play the guitar, but my hands are too small to strangle its neck. He laughed at my suggestion of me playing the tambourine. Anyway, now I am wondering if perhaps we'll actually make this little pipe dream come through one of these years. I'm sure we would have some great songs to write together. It would be a pop/post-rock/punk band, probably, with a few cheesy rock riffs here and there. We would be cal led Nest or something dumb like that. Or maybe Nest 76, like Sham 69, but not as cool when you think about it. If it were a shoegaze band, we could be called Limerance. I could go for a little limerance myself.

Brian is in New York now, and that's one more reason I sometimes wish I were, too. Hats off to you, Sholis, for your continued kindness. We must paint the town red again next time you're here or I'm there; we can't let it fade to pink.

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