Dirt Chic

Secret Synchronicity

(This was from yesterday.  Ran out of time.)

I'm pathetic.  Today I have ate (eaten?) the following:
-leftover mess of trail mix in crushed bag at bottom of neglected pocket in my bag
-two faux York Peppermint Patties (small)
-the rest of my yogurt covered raisins from Colorado that Jessica deemed "nasty" and Grandma said you really couldn't eat more than one of (and proceeded to ask for one more, a few minutes later)

That's all.  Good thing for coffee and it's appetite-suppressing effects.

It's Friday.  It's time for writer's group, aka English adjuncts discuss poetry and Arwen INHALES a gyro under the glowing light of Pabst Blue Ribbon signs.

I need it.  All of the above.  Food.  Poetry.  Light.  The past few days have been about purging:

Success, but still - it's just getting rid of stuff.  I had to write a lil' (bad) essay about how busying myself with external things should not be an excuse to avoid the internal.

K fine.  Here's one of my internal activities that will lead to more external work but not of the above-purging variety.  Perhaps it will lead to catharsis.  (...I just need to shut up right now, because obviously my brain is addled without sustenance.) (When have I ever said "I talk too much", and it has actually led me to stop talking?  That's right - never.)

Theatre.  Like poetry, it's been seeking me out even as I've been trying to avoid it.  There's more to all that but I don't feel like going into it just now.  Jen talks a good bit about synchronicity, though, and I can't help but feel like there's some of that going on.  As to what it means, I really don't know.

But do I need to know? 

DO I?

Maybe not just now.

I know that my hair, which is very long, is so much more cooperative when, well, a day old.  A day dirty.  Though it's not really dirty at a day... dirty.  Whatever.  :)  It looks good (and 80's) when semi-wet, and then it gets annoying.  I don't like to spend a lot of time on my hair.  I don't even like the time I just spent typing out that I don't like to spend a lot of time on my hair.

My hair got annoying mid-day so I pinned and braided it and here I am doing my schoolmarm spinster impression.

Well.  Bad fresh hair or not, it couldn't really get my outfit down.  Couldn't break its stride.  Crazy blazer, from what era I don't know, with a water-colory print and lace lapels (and a matching skirt I don't quite fit in just now): $6.  Black sequin collar because sometimes I just don't want to deal with policing my cleavage: $12.  White pumps (which I discovered halfway through the day needing to have the bottom-heel-protector-thingie - it has a name, what is it? - replaced): $3.  And my blue leather coat with white fur, not pictured: $25.  It was a chilly day, and a long one (though good), and the fur was my pillow at a point, and the leather a comforting squeaky presence. 

Spring Break 2011: CHICAGO. Part Four.

Last evening, Anne and I took the train to Uptown, which I love dearly.  

I especially love the shuttered Uptown Theater.  I dream of it.  I lust after it.

I showed Anne some other spots - mostly old entertainment buildings that now house... entertainments (shows).  Such as the Aragon.  Which I keep calling the Aragorn on accident.  Where I saw Weezer.  And The Verve.  

Anne at Siam Noodle & Rice, the best hole-in-the-wall Thai place EVER.  (She agrees.  Ask her.)  

It was crazy good.  We got a huge amount of food.  (Hence, crossed eyes.)  We ate a lot of it there.  We ate more of it later.

Then we went to the Green Mill Lounge, which I have always avoided for one reason or the other.  Which, once we went in, I quickly realized was stupid of me.  It was RESPLENDENT WITH FANTASTICNESS AND MAJESTY.  

We took the train back.  We were tired and sore from walking all over the place.

But on the way back, at a store called "Material Possessions", we saw a buddy.

We went to Jewel and got Epsom salts and other necessary items (sidecar supplies, cheese, crackers) and watching "The Purple Rose of Cairo" (been a Woody Allen week) on my computer, while sitting on the side of the tub and soaking our feet.  It was truly awesome.

Next morning, I subjected Anne to a lot more food.  Her expression could perhaps be read as mild exasperation regarding my dining tactics.

Sad to leave our unimpressive but still-lovely room.

Walked downtown.  Took pics. :)  And pics of pics.

Went to the Skydeck at the Sears (Willis) Tower.  It's been over half my life since I last went.  

Nerding out on Edna Ferber - "Showboat" has made my life much, much better.  (It was already good.)

We went out on the clear ledge thingie.  Anne had to coax me out.  It was torture.  

The elevator.  Good thing it wasn't a Tower of Terror ride.

Lunch at XOCO (again!).  Can you tell I'm tired?

I bought a giant cherry gummy bear for $6.  I ate its face.  It's pretty sick.  But I've wanted one for a long time.

On our way to the airport, we took a quick "detour" through Oak Park and I showed Anne a few Frank Lloyd houses.  Our favorite.

I miss my dear Anne.  We have deluxe epic times together.  I bet she's as tired as I am. :) We earned our good times and now, our rest.  :)

Spring Break 2011: CHICAGO. Part Three.

I failed to note Anne's glamour last night.  We aim for glamour every night.  Glamour at the HoJo.

Glamour for going to Smoque w/the wondrous birthday boy Geoffrey, and eating RIDICULOUSLY amazing BBQ.  (I also pigged out on coleslaw, which is unlike me.)

Sunday in the Park... Wednesday in the Art Institute.

This made us think of the previous night's viewing of Woody Allen's "Everything you always wanted to know about sex * *But were afraid to ask".

The Mag Mile, of course.

Doing touristy things, and enjoying it immensely.  (Well, immensely enough.  I was extremely tired from eating too much lunch.  Loser."  At The Bean.

Ok.  A nerdtastic Arwen moment: taking a picture semi-close to the windows that say Pucci (but no longer house a Pucci store.  I think this is actually more appealing to me).

Yep. :)  Now, resting, then going to Uptown and eating the choicest Thai food imaginable.

Spring Break 2011: CHICAGO. Part Two.

Picking up where we left off...

...we had some choice cocktails at Graham Elliot's last night.  They involved muddled sage and creme de cassis and all kinds of other exotic, delicious business.  We also had popcorn with truffle oil, parmesan, black pepper and scallions.  Note to self: make this at home.  Then, we got McDonald's and watched Conan at the hotel.  Nice, huh?

Next morning (after sleeping in - bliss) we hit up Rick Bayless's (is it Bayless's?  I don't even know.) XOCO and ate RIDICULOUS AMOUNTS OF GOODNESS.  Such as some killer guac with two salsas.

And I was pleased because there was sparkling water on tap and a bowl of limes.

And I got an aztec chocolate drink (fresh-ground chocolate, allspice, etc.), and we shared some vanilla bean soft-serve with salted caramel sauce and bacon-maple praline thingies.  KILLER.

And a very spicy torta with pulled pork, pickled onions, and other wondrousness.  We're going back there again, for sure.

Then it was off to the Art Institute.  I was ready to pay for my $12 student ticket, but the dude convinced me to get a membership.  After deducting Anne's ticket price, I paid $22 for it.  This was an excellent idea - we are going back there every day, now, of the mornings.  Too much for one visit, anyway.  And I was dumb enough to wear heels, so I was worn out pretty quickly.

So, some highlights of us standing by some of our favorite things:

Anne and Chagall windows

Arwen and Louis Sullivan Stock Exchange room

Anne and Lichtenstein 

Arwen and... crap.  Not de Kooning.  Something else with a K.  (I am very tired)

Don't know.  But liked the mirror. :)

Not art.  I don't think.  (People were taking them.)  But awesome, all the same.

I'm not mad about this painting.  I'm mad that I don't always take good pictures.  Rothko.  Shoot me.

Anne and... um, crap.  We should've wrote things down.  Not Chagall.  Not Picasso.  Something else.

Um, not art.  But, another kind of bliss.  Then I spilled it on the floor. :)

Anne and Mondrian

And, finally, Anne and the Sullivan Carson Pirie Scott building.  

Now we are off to meet Geoffrey for his birthday dinner.  Yes, am wearing the feather jacket.  Unless once I get it on, I get crabby with something and go for something else.  It happens.

Inspiration: William Eggleston

I dig photography.

I really dig William Eggleston.  You might know him from here.  (I dig that, too.)

I bought a postcard of the freezer pic a long time ago, and didn't know it was him.  And then got into him, and then discovered that pic was his.  ("Pic".  Sheesh.)  Love that.

Some favorites:

This is all but a distraction.  I have to go read up on antiquity, now.