I'm back from Chicago with the following to show for it:
1) A big black bruise on my leg from falling on a deadly patch of ice outside my hotel as I was rushing to hail a cab. I was also carrying hot tea and a suitcase. Somehow, as my feet shot up over my head and my elbow hit the pavement, I managed to place my tea cup on the sidewalk, upright, without spilling a drop. So even though I looked like a dumb ass, staggering to my feet and shaking my head and looking around to make sure (by looking around?) that there were no witnesses, I was still fairly amazed at my protective tea reflexes.
2) A lot of photographs of stuff at the Chicago Institute of Art, where I had a lot of time to kill. I went through each exhibit twice, the second time after I realized I could take pictures without being destroyed by lasers. Every exhibit, I should say, except Modern Art, which was being closed for renovations. Half the reason I went was to see their Jospeh Cornell boxes, so that hurt my feelings. But I know they didn't mean it.
3) A SOUL CONNECTION with Lynda Barry. For real. We are LIKE THIS now. Picture me doing the tiny-space-between-fingers thing when you read LIKE THIS. That is how we are.
4) Lots of writing. And a good feeling about writing in general. And reading. And drawing.
5) Less money.
6) This post.
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4 comments:
Welcome back!
Message from Georgie: I see your latest vet bill, Happy, and raise you $500.
Guess who spent the night at Chateau du West Boulavard?
Have Dr. Potter's eyes always appeared as if she were riding the high skies on heroin? Or is this a new development?
Ack. What happened to Georgie?
It's a new development, I think. Potter mentioned having one of her pets in critical care the last time I spoke to her, and that she was "preparing herself". Maybe by that she meant, "enjoying some pure Vancouver heroin". And who could blame her?
Georgie! I hope I can assume all is well, now? Special needs rabbit indeed.
Also, where are the new photos? I WANT ROMAN SOLDIER XENA!
Dude, I wish it was Roman Soldier Xena. It's freakin' Roman Hootchie Xena. Like when Ceasar plots it so she's all got up in slutty finery for his Tuesday night salon, or something. It's totally lame.
I'd have posted it by now, but flickr's being stupid and I have no patience.
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