Here are the first stories from the Memorial Day Weekend Challenge! I told you that if you retweeted PTKY or shared it on Facebook, I'd write a story on the subject of your choice. My friend Carl asked me to write a story using the word "void" as inspiration:
VOID.
He scratches it onto the gray check, tears the paper with the pressure of his
pen. Void. What a stupid mistake. He had started writing his own last name,
which, of course, was no longer hers. It hadn’t been for over a year. She’d
gone back to using her maiden name. Apparently she’s seeing some other guy now,
a doctor. He suspects she’ll take the doctor’s name soon. If so, he’ll probably
make the same mistake again. His checkbook will become a ledger of his
loneliness, VOID after VOID after VOID.
My friend and roommate Lindsey asked me to write a positive story about Bruce Springsteen, since she knows how much I like his music (not at all):
Remember
that time we skipped town for a week and drove down to New Orleans? Remember
how we had sex in the backseat of my car on the side of the road, and “Born to
Run” was on the radio, and you said you felt like you were in a movie? I never
told you, but it wasn’t on the radio. It was a mix CD I made of all the songs
that reminded me of you. I put it in the stereo while you were sleeping.
Anyway,
I guess what I’m trying to say is that you were right about that movie thing,
because I think that song is the perfect soundtrack for us. That night you
taught me that our love is wild, and real. And from that moment on, I’ve loved
you with all the madness in my soul. I may not be The Boss, but I know that we
were born for each other, born to run, together. Will you marry me?
Hope these lived up to Lindsey & Carl's expectations. There will be more challenge stories throughout the week!
Sorry I didn't get around to posting yesterday, but I had kind of a long day. I went to the physical therapist for my headaches, and she jammed some needles into my jaw muscles. Then it took me over an hour to get back to my apartment because there was a fire near the L tracks. Then I had gogo practice with Becki because we have our first 2012 show with The Fortunate Sons on Saturday (you should come). Then a longtime friend of mine called me up because he was very drunk and very lost, so I found him and escorted him back to the train so he could get downtown. Needless to say, I couldn't seem to find the energy to blog after that. Instead I drank wine and watched the X-Files. It was awesome.
In other news, you should donate some money to help The Fullmers, a prominent couple in the Chicago literary scene. Their apartment burned down, and their first child is due in June. Not a good situation. If you can spare a few dollars, I'm sure they'd appreciate it.
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Friday, May 25, 2012
Omar
Seen on the Brown Line to the Loop at about 10:15 p.m., May 24th, 2012
Omar sprained his ankle while he was stealing an iPhone. It was supposed to be simple. He’d pull her hair, hard, so her head snapped back. He’d snatch the phone from her hand, make a run for it. He’d sell it up on Devon, get a few hundred bucks. First, he’d buy himself a strong drink. Or two. Then he’d buy his son that new video game he kept going on about. Val hadn’t let Omar in the house for a while, and he was hoping her son’s happy face might soften her up.
Everything went according to plan until Omar tripped on the L platform stairs. He felt a painful heat pluck through his muscles as his ankle bent too far in the wrong direction. He heard the iPhone shatter on the concrete. Omar grasped the railing and pulled himself up; he hobbled away as far and as fast as he could, leaving his ruined prize behind. He did have one bit of luck that day—he found a crutch in a dumpster near his apartment. Ultimately, though, what good is a crutch to a life that’s as broken as Omar’s?
Thanks to everyone who voted for me in The Reader's contest! I appreciate it. The winners are announced sometime in June. We shall see...
I, for one, am very excited about this holiday weekend. There will hopefully be blues dancing tonight, and there will DEFINITELY be soul dancing tomorrow night. My cousin's baby is being baptized on Sunday, so there will be some time spent with the fam. There will probably not be a story on Monday, because I will be enjoying my day off. I hope you have exciting weekend plans, too.
Omar sprained his ankle while he was stealing an iPhone. It was supposed to be simple. He’d pull her hair, hard, so her head snapped back. He’d snatch the phone from her hand, make a run for it. He’d sell it up on Devon, get a few hundred bucks. First, he’d buy himself a strong drink. Or two. Then he’d buy his son that new video game he kept going on about. Val hadn’t let Omar in the house for a while, and he was hoping her son’s happy face might soften her up.
Everything went according to plan until Omar tripped on the L platform stairs. He felt a painful heat pluck through his muscles as his ankle bent too far in the wrong direction. He heard the iPhone shatter on the concrete. Omar grasped the railing and pulled himself up; he hobbled away as far and as fast as he could, leaving his ruined prize behind. He did have one bit of luck that day—he found a crutch in a dumpster near his apartment. Ultimately, though, what good is a crutch to a life that’s as broken as Omar’s?
Thanks to everyone who voted for me in The Reader's contest! I appreciate it. The winners are announced sometime in June. We shall see...
I, for one, am very excited about this holiday weekend. There will hopefully be blues dancing tonight, and there will DEFINITELY be soul dancing tomorrow night. My cousin's baby is being baptized on Sunday, so there will be some time spent with the fam. There will probably not be a story on Monday, because I will be enjoying my day off. I hope you have exciting weekend plans, too.
Thursday, May 24, 2012
Aisha
Seen transferring from a Brown Line train to a Red Line train to Howard at about 8:35 a.m.
Aisha comes for the little ones when their time is up too soon. Children fear the tall, black-robed man; but when Aisha extends her hand they grasp it eagerly, happy to have found a new friend. Mothers are reluctant to hand their babies over to a dark angel with hollow eyes, but they cannot resist the sweet smile of a young girl.
Aisha is too young to perform her task unaccompanied. She travels with Mortimer, a wizened old man, and her quiet little sister Eternity. When Aisha embraces the children destined for death, she puts her lips to their ears and whispers:
“Do you see this man? You will never have to become like him. Do you see this girl? Her serenity is yours now.”
They appear to be a normal family. Nobody takes particular notice of them as they journey to hospitals, playgrounds, schools, beaches, cribsides. The faded skulls on Aisha’s backpack are the only indication of her true purpose.
I mainly wrote this story because of the skulls on her backpack. They weren't like cutesy, punk rock skull-and-crossbones. They were really creepy and faded, almost like they were looking at you from underwater. It was weird.
You have until MIDNIGHT TONIGHT to vote "Pretending to Know You" as Best Local Blog in the Chicago Reader's Best of Chicago 2012 Contest! Don't just vote for PTKY--vote for all your favorite things in Chi-Town! It's a good deal.
Aisha comes for the little ones when their time is up too soon. Children fear the tall, black-robed man; but when Aisha extends her hand they grasp it eagerly, happy to have found a new friend. Mothers are reluctant to hand their babies over to a dark angel with hollow eyes, but they cannot resist the sweet smile of a young girl.
Aisha is too young to perform her task unaccompanied. She travels with Mortimer, a wizened old man, and her quiet little sister Eternity. When Aisha embraces the children destined for death, she puts her lips to their ears and whispers:
“Do you see this man? You will never have to become like him. Do you see this girl? Her serenity is yours now.”
They appear to be a normal family. Nobody takes particular notice of them as they journey to hospitals, playgrounds, schools, beaches, cribsides. The faded skulls on Aisha’s backpack are the only indication of her true purpose.
I mainly wrote this story because of the skulls on her backpack. They weren't like cutesy, punk rock skull-and-crossbones. They were really creepy and faded, almost like they were looking at you from underwater. It was weird.
You have until MIDNIGHT TONIGHT to vote "Pretending to Know You" as Best Local Blog in the Chicago Reader's Best of Chicago 2012 Contest! Don't just vote for PTKY--vote for all your favorite things in Chi-Town! It's a good deal.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Violet
Seen on the Purple Line to Linden at about 8:20 a.m.
Violet bought the shoes because they reminded her of Cinderella. Obviously, they weren’t glass slippers. They were gold, sparkly ballet flats. They weren’t sparkly in an offensive way—not stitched with rows of garish sequins or encrusted in craft store glitter. Rather, the shoes looked like they had been lightly sprinkled with fairy dust. She had the notion that she would someday leave one behind at the apartment of a handsome, charming man.
This wasn’t the first time Violet had tried to incorporate fairy tales into her life. When she was twelve, she attempted to grow her blonde, wavy hair as long as Rapunzel’s. Unfortunately, her mother insisted it looked messy and she finally dragged Violet to a salon to have it chopped.
On her first day of high school, Violet stuck pieces of chewing gum down the hallway floors so she could find her way back to her locker. This did earn her the nickname “Gretel,” but it also earned her three detentions. When she was five, Violet refused to eat apples for fear that they were poisoned. Her parents banned her from watching Snow White, which eventually put an end to that. She never could understand why her family disliked her affinity for the stories so much. All Violet wanted was a little magic in her life.
Hey internet--THERE'S ONLY ONE MORE DAY TO VOTE "PRETENDING TO KNOW YOU" AS BEST LOCAL BLOG IN THE CIVIC LIFE SECTION OF THE CHICAGO READER'S BEST OF CHICAGO 2012 CONTEST! Show some love to PTKY and all your other favorite things in the Windy City! Also, get other people to vote PTKY on twitter by using the hashtag #bestofchi.
Now that I've shamelessly promoted myself, how about I shamelessly promote someone else? My friend Gena has started a blog, aptly named "Letters from Gena." Here's the idea: you email her with a topic. She'll write you a personal letter. Who doesn't love friendly correspondence?! Check it out.
Violet bought the shoes because they reminded her of Cinderella. Obviously, they weren’t glass slippers. They were gold, sparkly ballet flats. They weren’t sparkly in an offensive way—not stitched with rows of garish sequins or encrusted in craft store glitter. Rather, the shoes looked like they had been lightly sprinkled with fairy dust. She had the notion that she would someday leave one behind at the apartment of a handsome, charming man.
This wasn’t the first time Violet had tried to incorporate fairy tales into her life. When she was twelve, she attempted to grow her blonde, wavy hair as long as Rapunzel’s. Unfortunately, her mother insisted it looked messy and she finally dragged Violet to a salon to have it chopped.
On her first day of high school, Violet stuck pieces of chewing gum down the hallway floors so she could find her way back to her locker. This did earn her the nickname “Gretel,” but it also earned her three detentions. When she was five, Violet refused to eat apples for fear that they were poisoned. Her parents banned her from watching Snow White, which eventually put an end to that. She never could understand why her family disliked her affinity for the stories so much. All Violet wanted was a little magic in her life.
Hey internet--THERE'S ONLY ONE MORE DAY TO VOTE "PRETENDING TO KNOW YOU" AS BEST LOCAL BLOG IN THE CIVIC LIFE SECTION OF THE CHICAGO READER'S BEST OF CHICAGO 2012 CONTEST! Show some love to PTKY and all your other favorite things in the Windy City! Also, get other people to vote PTKY on twitter by using the hashtag #bestofchi.
Now that I've shamelessly promoted myself, how about I shamelessly promote someone else? My friend Gena has started a blog, aptly named "Letters from Gena." Here's the idea: you email her with a topic. She'll write you a personal letter. Who doesn't love friendly correspondence?! Check it out.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Rock; Eddie
Rock: Seen at Fizz Bar & Grill at
about 11 p.m., May 21st, 2012
The light shimmered and slid over Rock’s tan chest when he laughed. He had unbuttoned his shirt more than was conventional in a non-tropical setting, but that was his intention. The lower the V, the higher his confidence. His ex-girlfriend said it made him look smarmy. He didn’t care; she was entitled to her opinion. Rock felt that his fashion choice helped to expose his deepest desires. When those girls on the dance floor glanced his way, with their strong legs and their bouncing breasts, he hoped they’d be able to see his heart beating for them beneath his skin.
Eddie: Seen on the Brown Line to the Loop at about 11:40 p.m., May 21st, 2012
I told him it was because I just moved here, but really it’s because I hate hearing about all that stuff. War, anti-war demonstrations, political violence in general. It makes me sick. I think people get off on it. Even the protesters. They want things to turn violent. It’s exciting for them. You wanna know the secret to world peace? Don’t talk about any of that crap. Don’t give credit to it with your words, or even your thoughts. Burn all the books and articles about it. Then we can all move on, and it’ll be like it never existed.
Did you notice that both these stories are drabbles? I am on a roll today!
You should probably read my guest post about Chicago's swing dancing scene on Cheap Dish Pizza. You should probably just read that blog in general. So many fun, inexpensive things to do in the Windy City!
Vote for Pretending to Know You as "Best Local Blog" in the Civic Life section of the Chicago Reader's Best of Chicago 2012 Contest before it's too late! Voting ends Thursday. You wouldn't want to miss your opportunity to tell the world how great all your favorite things in Chicago are, would you?
The light shimmered and slid over Rock’s tan chest when he laughed. He had unbuttoned his shirt more than was conventional in a non-tropical setting, but that was his intention. The lower the V, the higher his confidence. His ex-girlfriend said it made him look smarmy. He didn’t care; she was entitled to her opinion. Rock felt that his fashion choice helped to expose his deepest desires. When those girls on the dance floor glanced his way, with their strong legs and their bouncing breasts, he hoped they’d be able to see his heart beating for them beneath his skin.
Eddie: Seen on the Brown Line to the Loop at about 11:40 p.m., May 21st, 2012
I told him it was because I just moved here, but really it’s because I hate hearing about all that stuff. War, anti-war demonstrations, political violence in general. It makes me sick. I think people get off on it. Even the protesters. They want things to turn violent. It’s exciting for them. You wanna know the secret to world peace? Don’t talk about any of that crap. Don’t give credit to it with your words, or even your thoughts. Burn all the books and articles about it. Then we can all move on, and it’ll be like it never existed.
Did you notice that both these stories are drabbles? I am on a roll today!
You should probably read my guest post about Chicago's swing dancing scene on Cheap Dish Pizza. You should probably just read that blog in general. So many fun, inexpensive things to do in the Windy City!
Vote for Pretending to Know You as "Best Local Blog" in the Civic Life section of the Chicago Reader's Best of Chicago 2012 Contest before it's too late! Voting ends Thursday. You wouldn't want to miss your opportunity to tell the world how great all your favorite things in Chicago are, would you?
Her Noise
Here's my entry for Cherie Reich's 2nd Annual Flash Fiction Blogfest! It's called "Her Noise." Hope you enjoy it.
Lightning flashed from her throat, a primal shriek-song, her body slick and strained, her fingernails piercing my palm. It was terrible and magnificent. My ears worshipped it. My whole life was humbled before it. I don’t deserve to be a father, I thought.
Check back soon for a regular post!
Lightning flashed from her throat, a primal shriek-song, her body slick and strained, her fingernails piercing my palm. It was terrible and magnificent. My ears worshipped it. My whole life was humbled before it. I don’t deserve to be a father, I thought.
Check back soon for a regular post!
Monday, May 21, 2012
Nomar
Seen patrolling the streets of downtown Chicago at about 3:30 p.m., May 20th, 2012
On the one hand, there’ll be things I miss when it’s over. There’s the strong sense of purpose—we’ve been training for this for months. And a lot of the guys they’ve sent in from other parts of the country are great. I don’t really want ‘em to leave. Last night after my shift, I went and had a few beers with two new guys: Carlos from Philly and Patrick from Milwaukee. I have to say, it was a lot of fun. It makes me feel like we’re all connected, like a real brotherhood.
On the other hand, there’s something spooky about it. Yesterday Daley Plaza was packed to the brim with protesters. Today this whole part of the city is dead. Except for us, patrolling the street corners with our billy clubs. I dunno, it feels like we’re running a police state or something. And as proud as I am to protect and serve, this isn’t exactly how I imagined I’d do it. It just feels wrong.
I’ll tell you one thing, though. I’m glad I’m not down by McCormick Place. I’ve only had to wear the riot gear a few times, but I don’t like it. Makes me feel less like a human. I think maybe it’s better that I get to watch over an empty city, so I don’t have to see their young, angry faces. So I don’t have to stop them. At least for now.
Nomar is, of course, a Chicago police officer. I went for a walk yesterday, and went all the way from Lincoln Park to Jackson & Michigan (almost 5 miles!). I didn't see a single protester--I guess they were marching closer to McCormick Place and had an ugly clash with police (see these photos). But I did see TONS of police officers. They were just walking around with practically nothing to do, since the whole area was pretty dead. There were tourists on Michigan, but that was it. Here's a creepy picture I took of empty Daley Plaza:
On the one hand, there’ll be things I miss when it’s over. There’s the strong sense of purpose—we’ve been training for this for months. And a lot of the guys they’ve sent in from other parts of the country are great. I don’t really want ‘em to leave. Last night after my shift, I went and had a few beers with two new guys: Carlos from Philly and Patrick from Milwaukee. I have to say, it was a lot of fun. It makes me feel like we’re all connected, like a real brotherhood.
On the other hand, there’s something spooky about it. Yesterday Daley Plaza was packed to the brim with protesters. Today this whole part of the city is dead. Except for us, patrolling the street corners with our billy clubs. I dunno, it feels like we’re running a police state or something. And as proud as I am to protect and serve, this isn’t exactly how I imagined I’d do it. It just feels wrong.
I’ll tell you one thing, though. I’m glad I’m not down by McCormick Place. I’ve only had to wear the riot gear a few times, but I don’t like it. Makes me feel less like a human. I think maybe it’s better that I get to watch over an empty city, so I don’t have to see their young, angry faces. So I don’t have to stop them. At least for now.
Nomar is, of course, a Chicago police officer. I went for a walk yesterday, and went all the way from Lincoln Park to Jackson & Michigan (almost 5 miles!). I didn't see a single protester--I guess they were marching closer to McCormick Place and had an ugly clash with police (see these photos). But I did see TONS of police officers. They were just walking around with practically nothing to do, since the whole area was pretty dead. There were tourists on Michigan, but that was it. Here's a creepy picture I took of empty Daley Plaza:
Totally bizarre. Anyway, I felt like had to write SOMETHING about the NATO summit, since it's such a big historic event going on in my own city.
In other news, you only have until Thursday to vote for PTKY in the Chicago Reader's Best of Chicago 2012 Contest! Every time someone votes for my blog, a puppy is born. Okay, that's probably not true, but let's pretend like it's true. A world with more puppies is always a better world.
In other news, you only have until Thursday to vote for PTKY in the Chicago Reader's Best of Chicago 2012 Contest! Every time someone votes for my blog, a puppy is born. Okay, that's probably not true, but let's pretend like it's true. A world with more puppies is always a better world.
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