Blast of Silence

I gave them the tape on Monday, and one day later the review is "Your tape was crazy."

Alright, no false modesty.  This morning when I went in for coffee, the baristas looked up to see me and let out a banshee wail of unrequited passion.  Immediately all three vaulted over the counter, upsetting a pyramid of cinnamon-chip muffins in their desperate haste.  Frozen with surprise, I suddenly found myself pinned to the cafe floor, hands tearing at my clothes and hair.  "I will devour him and steal his power," cried the girl with orange hair and septum ring, "that tape destroyed my brain and replaced it with candy!"  "I want to love him as only a woman can!"  squealed another, her stocking-cap askew, "That tape made me feel like I was sweetly ravaged by a Kodiak Bear!"  Adding,"He’s mine!"  The skinny gentleman with the Rotary Club tank top shook me wildly by the collar.  "Why do you walk among us!?  No man who made such a tape can be mortal!!  That mix makes Guernica, look like whale shit!"  With a bellow, and a burst of adrenaline-strength I wrestled to my feet and lurched for the door, each limb towing the body of a weeping employee.  I finally shook them off and ran for the train, dodging volley after volley of tossed underwear.  It’s a fucking miracle I escaped with my life.

Crazy.

This Sunday I went exploring, and around noon found myself down in Daily Plaza watching an acrobat.  She was doing a rope routine, tangling and untangling herself 50 feet above the concrete.  The acrobat was dressed as a sexy witch.

I then made my way over to the Cultural Center, where I saw some screen prints and photographs.  I don’t know if you knew this, but war is everywhere and it is bad.

I then took the Blue Line over to Wicker Park and the Damen bus back to Lincoln Square.  Halfway through the trip, the driver began loudly dispensing child-rearing advice through the open door to a woman walking alongside the bus.  During the ride, I happened to be sitting across from the female Peter Lorre.

I ate lunch at the house of Wah Sun, a Chinese restaurant that looks like a Pizza Hut crossed with a condemned barn.  Indoors however, the atmosphere is surprisingly cozy. 

Then I went to Evil Clown and bought this. 

But should have picked up this.

Hard Times is in the can, so this morning I started David Eggers’ A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius.  Now when I read on the train I can be a perfect caricature of a college student from 2000 who, when not soaking up Haruki Murakami novels and Galaxie 500 B-Sides, has guilt-ridden sex fantasies about a threesome with Scarlet Johansen and Terry Gross. 

So far the book is sad and funny funs.

So, I made this tape, and thought I’d present it to the staff of the local cafe.  No dice. Stalling, I’ve rolled it around in my pocket every morning for four days leaving the case with a film of DNA-laden palm sweat.  What I’ve realized is that there is absolutely no way of offering it to them without looking like I’m sleazily, awkwardly, and tritely hitting on one or all of the employees.  I can’t blame them. When I worked at worked at a cafe 3 years ago this poor sap gave a tape to one of my female coworkers on the eve of a date, and we played it as soon as he left, psychoanalyzing each track for hidden romantic messages.  Thing is, a few months ago one of the baristas made a CD for me, so I can try to play it off as a friendly tit for tat.  But she seems to have disappeared.  Whatever, I hate them and that place.  Scarlet?  Terry?  To the hunting lodge!

SIDE A

Wallias Band - Muzigawi Silt*The Strangeloves - Night Time*Johnny Davis-You Got to Crawl to Me*Defunkt-Good Times*The Clash-This is Radio CLash*The Slits-I Heard it Through the Grapevine*Jesse G-That’s Hot*A Certain Ratio-Choir*The Juan Mablean-Love is in the Air*Derrick Harriott-Black Skinned Blue Eyed Boys*The Bloods-Button Up

SIDE B

MF Doom-Meat Grinder*Marvin Gaye-"T" Plays it Cool*Ogyatanaa Show Band-Diso Africa*Prince Jammy-Throne of Blood*Fred Williams-Tell Her*Mulatu Astatge-Yegelle*The Cure-In Your House*Josef K-It’s Kind of Funny*Antonello Paliotti-In the Cave*Bridget Bardot-La Madrague*The Kinks-Can’t You See*Super Eagles-Love is the Real Thing*Yamatsuki-Yama Yama*The Flirtations-Nothing but a Heartache*The Ramones-I Wanna Be Your Boyfriend*ESG-Moody

My tape is full of love songs, not selected with an adgenda other than that they’re good songs.  Now I’m going to go throw it in the river.

I moonlight:

As a Pabst rodeo cowpoke.

And a math teacher who read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance once.

And a BBC comedy actor with a penchant for vague roles.

Oh, Internet.

*Last night I watched my B-Films with marmalade toast and a glass of Brandy.  Cracking!

*My buddy likes to send me the Friendster profiles of people he finds particularly annoying.  Make your own decision.

*My awesome mother sent me an old 1940s strip-o-gram.  A tasteful birthday striptease done The Very Hungry Caterpillar style, with each turn of the page revealing more gams n mams!  Square, indeed!

*I really hope Madeline is doing OK on her travels. 

*I am going to be paid soon so tell me what CDs to buy, movies to see, and books to read.  Then I will judge you silently.

Hey, here’s something of substance.  Today I walked into the office of  young lawyer, and suddenly I knew what he would look like at age 80.  It was as though an airy death mask was drawn over his face, and for a moment I saw him as an old man squinting into annihilating eternity.  An unnerving moment; neither hallucination nor premonition, but an idle product of a dormant imagination that welled up all on its own. No quantity of Express shirts with french cuffs or Aveeno hair product can distress the fact that this young man is going to die.  As I will die.  As you will die.  As Clare will die.  The dance comes for you; actor, teacher, and dilettante alike.

{edited for pretension}

What’s 24 you ask?  My age as of last Sunday, plus the number of hours a day I be slangin rox.  Hustle or die.

This fabulous milestone took place at the runner’s high end of an eight-show weekend; so by the time I got around to celebrating it was all I could do to stay awake.  Old man indeed.  After eating some marzipan figs, my manx cat Olive and I curled up under my favorite throw to spend a few happy moments with the Stereopticon before floating off to dreamland.  Up with life!

Sunday night was spent down in Hyde Park with my fiends Bernard "Ben" Stiegler and Irvin Eustus Carbuncle Carsten the 8th.  Putting a damper on our jolly sausage fest was Suzanne, a philosophy student who loves Norwegian Death Metal who is twice as awesome as that makes her sound. 

The four of us traipsed over to the Falcon Lounge, one of my favorite Chicago bars, where Irv treated me to birthday booze.  The Falcon is always rocking with mid-eighties electric soul, and full of middle aged black men.  Two fellows behind us were playing chess, the one facing me tapping the pawns in his graveyard to the beat of "Rock With You."  Beyond him, I noticed an lithe gentleman with an eye-catching gray pompadour/curly mustache combo.  He was draped in a overlong coat that looked stitched together from Rick James’ throw-pillow upholstery.  It was then Suzanne let is in on the rumor that the Falcon is a "Down Low" pick up spot.  Cooler still, there’s a greasy-spoon next door with a serving window cut into the bar wall.  You can stand in the bar and order their specialty: a bed of french fries with a slice of pizza on top.

Today at work I received some birthday cards from my family.  My Death Metal Aunt has sent me Something Weird Video’s EXTRA WEIRD SAMPLER.  This evening I will watch it with more intrepid, mature eyes.

My Death Metal Aunt is my mother’s elder sister, meaning she’s in her late fifties.  She’s a librarian at Old Dominion University and a rabid fan of Goth Metal, Japanese gore, Italian horror, Mexican wrestling, and American sexploitation films.  When we holiday in Virginia with my grandparents my aunt always makes a point of bringing up the latest bloodbath movie she’s see in an effort to scare the squares, (or so it seems).  That’s the thing.  My Aunt would be so much cooler if she didn’t seem bound to convince the family how idiosyncratic she is.  Like when my Grampa puts on Bing Crosby’s Christmas Hits and my Aunt suggests Cradle of Filth* or the Genitorturers.  At times she also seems to insinuate that my mom is some kind of sellout living a phony American Dream, which is inexcusable.  My mother is an eccentric saint, who just happens to be awesome, if slightly more conservative (preferring The Broadway Melody to The Gore Gore Girls). 

In any case many thanks to all my friends and family who made my birthday feel special.  Much love.

Coming soon: Chicago Fun Places Reviews!!!!

*the most unintentionally hilarious band on planet earth.