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gigged up in Chicago (thanks to OITB alum Clint Van Winkle) researching a genuine WWII hero named Mario "Motts" Tonelli (details to come). fortunately i was able to amble about and take in the sights. despite the hellish heat the first day, Chicago proved to be a great place. beautiful city abound with art and the deep dish. here's an excerpt from my journal.
in chicago in july. hot. damn hot and steaming. need a rag to swab up the sweat dripping off my forehead. feel like my old man. genetics, go figure. "get botox," someone said. stops the sweat. and i just might because i'm current;y sitting inside Descartes Coffee House on michigan ave. and it's cold, cold inside but the salty excretions are spicing up my latte. not good. nevertheless i'm hitting up the Chicago Art Institute in a few. Monet's; Picasso's; Hopper's; and John Singer Sargent's. and i'm not ashamed to say i still dig the Impressionists, either. but i can clearly remember being a pissed off Marine back in the early days and dreaming of seeing these masterpieces in person. a kinda of personal promise. and now...holy shit, i found a way. on business at that. from what i can remember they got Edward Hopper's "Nighthawks," that famous noir piece set @ a corner diner. skeletal fry cook, alluring redhead, fedora festooned fellow. matter of fact, as i write this, the synapsis in my brain housing group have reconnected and i clearly recollect how "Nighthawks," influenced this dumb kid in 2001. so there's the redhead. she's with the fellow. they're sitting at the counter, ordering. a redhead. and in 2001 i found myself strapped to the tattooist's chair getting a redheaded pinup gal on my forearm. lacking class, i know, but whaddya gonna do -- i was a dumb kid and it was 2001.
some pix to whet your whistle. captions coming soon.
