Ruby Vector Playwright Karla Jennings arrives in Chicago to watch the LeapFest peformance.Tuesday May 19: Arrived here today for the Thursday performance of The Ruby Vector. I love Midway Airport! It brought me here! I love the Orange Line on the El! Otherwise I'd have to pay a cab! I even love the farty guy who sat next to me all the way from Midway to Clark Street because… actually, I didn't care for him.
Nothing better for nostalgia than a gorgeous warm breezy day in Chicago. It was great from the start, because I reunited with a college friend for lunch at Digiorno's. Though we roomed back in the days when polyester was considered an exciting alternative to natural fibers, she's hardly changed, or maybe it's just, when I look at her, I'm 19 again. Friends can be a personal time warp.
"Hi gerz," said the waitress. "Whaddya wanna drink?" I asked for peppermint tea.
"We don't carry exotic teas," she said. "We only got Liption." It's good to be home.
After dropping off my bags I went for a walk. Back in The Toddling Town, The Windy City of Big Shoulders, Second City, Slaughterhouse to the World (sounds kinda creepy, yeah?). A bicyclist with a very Weimar helmet coasted past, a daisy stuck in her ear. Miniature lilacs bloomed in tiny yards. Stolid Slavics rumbled down the walk. I crossed Racine, the street where the rat Frank Nitti pumped flatfoot Jim Malone full of lead, and eventually reached Diversey Pier, where I heard a familiar screech from a bird I grew up with but never see in Georgia.
"Hail red-wing blackbird, soldier of my childhood!" I cried.
"Aw crap," chirped the bird, "another goddamn mawky tourist," and flew off.
I popped out at the lake front. Bicyclists and roller-bladers swooshed by, joggers thudded past, gulls squawked and dove for fish. A constant background whirr of traffic and conversation. Days like this make my adjectives spill out.
When I was a freshman at Northwestern, before transferring to U. of I, I walked by The Lake a lot in wintertime, especially before those dreaded p-chem tests. Icy waves smashing against huge concrete blocks reminded me that the only eternal was the universe's cold indifference; my life was but a brief and feeble flicker. That comforted me. Then I'd go flunk my test, not worried too much because it didn't really matter.
But today wasn't NU, it was Lincoln Park near Wrigley Field, where my sister Nan once lived. She had the ideal twenty-something apartment life, she and her friends living an existence so blissfully elemental they didn't even need place names. "Wanna go to da Lake before we hit da Game? Then maybe we can go to da Bar." "Ho-kay." She talked high, blunt and fast, like Al Capone on speed, until her move to San Jose chilled her out like a Napa Zinfandel.
I sat on the concrete curve. Lake Michigan's slate-blue waves wavered against the paler blue of mist and sky. The Sears Tower glowed black, the city skyline as sharp as obsidian. This is good, I thought. Maybe I spend too much time huddled alone in front of a computer, making things up. In the long run, isolation deadens you. Being surrounded by people felt good. The life of the mind isn't without its pleasures, but sometimes it's better simply to be under the sun on a beautiful day, watching real life move around you. Hearing it. Feeling it on your skin. Maybe I'll sit here a while and not think.
See The Ruby Vector tomorrow (5/21) at 7:30 or 5/30 at 2pm. Don't miss this stellar new play.
Nothing better for nostalgia than a gorgeous warm breezy day in Chicago. It was great from the start, because I reunited with a college friend for lunch at Digiorno's. Though we roomed back in the days when polyester was considered an exciting alternative to natural fibers, she's hardly changed, or maybe it's just, when I look at her, I'm 19 again. Friends can be a personal time warp.
"Hi gerz," said the waitress. "Whaddya wanna drink?" I asked for peppermint tea.
"We don't carry exotic teas," she said. "We only got Liption." It's good to be home.
After dropping off my bags I went for a walk. Back in The Toddling Town, The Windy City of Big Shoulders, Second City, Slaughterhouse to the World (sounds kinda creepy, yeah?). A bicyclist with a very Weimar helmet coasted past, a daisy stuck in her ear. Miniature lilacs bloomed in tiny yards. Stolid Slavics rumbled down the walk. I crossed Racine, the street where the rat Frank Nitti pumped flatfoot Jim Malone full of lead, and eventually reached Diversey Pier, where I heard a familiar screech from a bird I grew up with but never see in Georgia.
"Hail red-wing blackbird, soldier of my childhood!" I cried.
"Aw crap," chirped the bird, "another goddamn mawky tourist," and flew off.
I popped out at the lake front. Bicyclists and roller-bladers swooshed by, joggers thudded past, gulls squawked and dove for fish. A constant background whirr of traffic and conversation. Days like this make my adjectives spill out.
When I was a freshman at Northwestern, before transferring to U. of I, I walked by The Lake a lot in wintertime, especially before those dreaded p-chem tests. Icy waves smashing against huge concrete blocks reminded me that the only eternal was the universe's cold indifference; my life was but a brief and feeble flicker. That comforted me. Then I'd go flunk my test, not worried too much because it didn't really matter.
But today wasn't NU, it was Lincoln Park near Wrigley Field, where my sister Nan once lived. She had the ideal twenty-something apartment life, she and her friends living an existence so blissfully elemental they didn't even need place names. "Wanna go to da Lake before we hit da Game? Then maybe we can go to da Bar." "Ho-kay." She talked high, blunt and fast, like Al Capone on speed, until her move to San Jose chilled her out like a Napa Zinfandel.
I sat on the concrete curve. Lake Michigan's slate-blue waves wavered against the paler blue of mist and sky. The Sears Tower glowed black, the city skyline as sharp as obsidian. This is good, I thought. Maybe I spend too much time huddled alone in front of a computer, making things up. In the long run, isolation deadens you. Being surrounded by people felt good. The life of the mind isn't without its pleasures, but sometimes it's better simply to be under the sun on a beautiful day, watching real life move around you. Hearing it. Feeling it on your skin. Maybe I'll sit here a while and not think.
See The Ruby Vector tomorrow (5/21) at 7:30 or 5/30 at 2pm. Don't miss this stellar new play.
No comments:
Post a Comment