youth romance


Youth romance on the train. Coming home after work. Her face disappeared in the folds of his sweatshirt hood. Her head moves, sways, nods. Her pale hand on his baggy jeaned hip. The dark brown skin of his hand. Her small round ear that appears from time to time from out of his hood. Surrounded by evening commuters, they don’t notice. Their intensity. Their need for public affection. For each other. For this moment.

i done been tagged!

hello friends. i got tagged by missy kulik so i have to follow the rules. or else she’ll kick my ass. i best get on this.

here are the rules, if yr someone i tagged:

• Link to the person who tagged you.
• Mention the rules.
• Tell six quirky yet boring, unspectacular details about yourself.
• Tag six other bloggers by linking to them.(sorry in advance!)
• Go to each person’s blog and leave a comment that lets them know they’ve been tagged.

and now here’s some boring shit about me

1. pretty much the only records i buy anymore are jazz or jazzish experimental records. this also extends to cds. very few cd purchases these days. cds are so 90’s. as a matter of fact our cd collection is quite the snapshot of when we first got into music. lots of 90s indyish alt stuff, big runs of bands we were way into. and that’s about it. a few patches of newer stuff we’re into but can’t get on record. that’s boring, right?

2. i’ve been a vegetarian for seven years now. i’m pretty strict about it. but i can admit when things i can’t eat smell good. like this barbecue place a little ways from our place. that place smelled pretty awesome. what did i eat? mac and cheese, fries and a salad. all delicious. i even got to try the barbecue sauce. success!

3. if i stay up much past midnight, i get sick. i blame the 9 – 5 schedule, and my general wuss stomach fortitude.

4. the first music i actually paid for with my own cash was the second living colour album. time’s up. it was a casette. it was that or faith no more’s “epic.” one of those two. but either way, casette.

5. one of my biggest regrets in life is that i stopped skating early in high school. all my friends who skated switched to basketball for some reason. boring! i was not up for the lonely world of skating by myself as a 13-14 year old in woodstock, il.

6. i used to be intimidated by taking the cta by myself when i first moved to chicago. i was 20. for some reason i view the bus as being more of a pain than the train. why is that? it’s really not more of a drag, but it is in my head before i go somewhere. weird. and boring! total success!

i am gonna tag these poor suckas. prolly just these three. cuz i don’t know too many people that are rocking blogs.


maybe they’ll play, maybe they won’t. we’ll see.

blue line, winter

so i’ve started writing in a new notebook and before i put the old one in storage i started looking through it. and i decided to post some of the pieces that didn’t make it into the upcoming flotation device 12. the pieces start a while back, 2005. it’s taken me three years to finish what turned into fd 12. that’s a long time for me. it looks like i’m starting chronologically, but we’ll see if that lasts. i might end up getting bored and wanting to jump around a bit. and with some of them i’ll want to talk a little about them, others – like this one, are kind of just what they are.


     friday night on the blue line train coming back home from work. the long way around. the red line at belmont downtown switch to blue line. 11.45pm. blizzard. 7 inches of snow in a few hours. didn’t want to deal with busses.
     sitting in the corner writing lyrics on a scrap of paper. hat on scarf wrapped around my neck. so many layers of clothes on. a guy across from me. huge duffel bag. appropriate cuz he’s so huge. black with long black hair.
     a girl talking loud. everything’s fucked she says. fuckin this. fuckin that. “my fuckin landlord gets back in a week. he wants the fuckin money. i don’t fuckin got it.” real pale. dark hair. some pulled back some in her face. “this shit is like fuckin pure mdma,” she says…
     walking down wrightwood from the blue line. 12.30am. snow blowing in the wind. still falling heavy. following paths carved by cars, walking in the tire tracks. the sidewalks still unshovelled, too much work to walk on them. occasional cars. they drive slowly – careful not to lose control. snowflakes in the headlights. i step out of their way and into snowdrifts to let them pass.
     quiet. muffled. mute. i can only hear what’s inside a 10 foot sphere around me. everything else fades away in the snowy night.