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On the train in, I was standing in front of a kid (seated) who had his
guitar with him. Not a hard shell case, but one of those zipper ones that's
almost in the shape of the guitar itself.
He had a keychain on the zipper, that said: No Autographs, Please.
I really should have taken a picture.
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From: Juliet
To: Felix
Subj: love & memory
Felix,
I just read your poem from the 13th. It’s got me thinking (good sign for
you, Mr. Poet). I’m wondering if there can be love without memory. I
mean, if you could remember nothing about the person next to you, would
you know enough about them to love them? I’m thinking of things that
have no memory of others - machines, for example. Animals, though, they
remember others. Ants remember other ants by their smell, and dogs,
oh, dogs have excellent memories. Except they forget everything bad
you’ve done to them. You yell at them one hour, and the next hour, you
come home from the store and they love you the same as they always did.
Or maybe it’s forgiveness. I’m getting off track.
Memory doesn’t necessarily yield love. But I don’t know if you can have love
without memory. I’m thinking of my grandma, who did get Alzheimer’s.
The last few years of her life, she didn’t recognize my mom at all.
No idea who she was. And she exhibited no emotion towards my mom, either.
But sometimes she would mention my mom, in conversation. She’d mention
the names of her children, and she’d say this to my mom, as if my mom
were a stranger: “Kay, my daughter, Kay, she...” Though she couldn’t speak
all that was in her mind, the sound of her voice said she loved my mom,
based on memories of her. But the woman in front of her, whom she did
not remember, she felt nothing for her.
So I’m going to differ with the poem on a larger, more subtle argument,
which is that forgetting is painless and maybe even pleasant. Forgetting,
in fact, hurts like hell. It hurts the people you are forgetting and,
especially if you are willing your own forgetfulness, it hurts you.
Because in doing so, you are telling yourself you were wrong to have
loved in the first place. And you were never wrong to have loved.
Love,
—Juliet
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On the way home, I walked by a woman who was holding a one year old outside
a local pizza joint. She was trying to get her daughter to wave goodbye
to another one year old, who was waving from inside with her father. I
just happened onto the last moments, as they left the window.
Lucky is too weak a word to describe how I felt. The rest of the way home, I
was smiling like an idiot.
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Alex is in town, to do some work for Stu and to help out with some freelance
work. Just got a call from Justin. When I asked him how he was, he said
"Not well." They're going over to Intertown Pub, and I'm meeting
them there. Justin's week-long no-drinking ends tomorrow. But it looks
like it's ending tonight. Something's wrong.
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Inner Town Pub. This palce is literally a stone's throw away from Justin's
apartment. Three or four doors down the street.
Things ended between Justin and Emma. So we all talked a long while about
women, about relationships. Alex and I talked with Justin when he
needed to get things off his chest, and we helped distract him off-topic
when he no longer wanted to talk.
One of the off-topic remarks was Alex's theory on happiness. Or, what
I'm going to call the Hack/Professional, Game/Pill Paradigm. Most
of us in our jobs are, typically, on the professional end - the
opposite of that being hackish. Professional signifies quality,
delivery, deadlines; hack signifies haste, inaccuracy, inattention.
We debated the finer gradations (professionals can't know everything,
but know when to ask for help, etc etc).
Everyone has their hackish moments. No one is a consumate professional all
the time, as every action has its own ranking on the hack/professional
scale. The most important rule is to not be a hack. The second most
important rule is to never work with hacks.
We then shifted to a social definition, which Alex described as game
vs. pill (I never really heard this term used before). Someone who
is game is always ready to try something new. Every activity is
rife with possibility, and simply waiting to be discovered. Conversely,
a pill is someone who projects negativity toward any event. They
assume the worst, and talk themselves out of any fun prior to (and
often dampen the event for others). Like hacks, it's best to avoid
people who are "pills."
Interestingly - there are people who are professional pills. There are also gamey
hacks.
We talked about this a long time. :)
The drinks had a pretty potent effect on both me and Justin. Today,
the two of us both worked through lunch and ended up not actually
eating a meal. Rey brought in some bagels this morning, and so we
were snacking off and on. But no actual break for food. Today wasn't
seriously busy for me - but just a constant workmode sort of day.
You know?
Needless to say, two drinks and ka-BLAMMO.
Everyone: meet the Muffin
Lady. In addition to her local legend status, she's quite the
pool player. We talked briefly and, the moment she introduced herself
as "The Muffin Lady," I knew who she was. Interesting
side note: she's had people tell her that they've dressed as her
for Halloween. :)
Oddly, I started the night by just playing a round on my own. Alex had
racked up the balls when I arrived, but no one played for a good
hour plus. I decided I was going to just practice, and started playing
against myself.
Let me add this really quickly: I was on a roll! I had some really good
shots going, and felt like I was in that consistent zone that I
sometimes fall into. The cue ball left my stick straight, and felt
like an extension of my hand. When I shoot, it's hot or cold. And
this varies each game. But for now - I was doing pretty well against
myself.
The Muffin Lady (I've forgotten her real name) walked up, pointed to
the table, and asked who I was playing. When I told her I was just
shooting against myself, she started racking up the balls in the
middle of my shot! Ah well. I didn't complain out loud, and the
idea of a game sounded fun.
Well, it sounded like fun until I saw this.
Here's a tip for the kids. When someone challenges you to a game of pool,
and then they unzip their CUSTOM-MADE BAG FOR THEIR POOL CUE,
you might want to get ready for an ass-kicking.
The pool cue was a gift from her daughter. I asked to look at it, and
the thing was soft as a cherub's ass. Silk I tell ya!
Of course, I got trounced. I think I gave her a decent fight, but that's
just me trying to revise the past and save face. I sank a few, and
played decently in comparison.
She told me that she organizes a tournament every Monday night. $8,
anyone can join. A little later in the evening, she came by and
said "Why isn't your name up on the board? You leaving soon?"
She was a very enthusiastic pool player.
This was in a small room, behind where we were sitting. No real commentary
here - just something I wanted to take a picture of.
Surprise visit from the Chicago Fire Department. Seems like they were checking
to make sure all the exits were accessible, and whatnot. After the
past 9 months, the city's gotten pretty sensitive about this.
In case you're ever here, here's the door.
And the board to the right is where you sign up for games. Pool table
is free, winner stays.
Once, when leaving, Alex got nailed by a piece of metal on the gate by
the door. Pretty nasty gash, as I recall.
:shakes fist:
Alex, giving the gate a good what for.
Quick cab ride, and we're over at Hollywood Grill. Without a meal in us,
Justin and I were both pretty ravenous at this time.
There's something indulgent and immensely satisfying having breakfast food
near midnight. I don't know what that is, but that feeling is just tops.
Alex, relaxing after the meal. We tried calling Jim
and Sally, but no luck.
We were hoping to visit them tomorrow... but we never were able
to get a hold of them.
Instead, we kicked around the idea of just driving around. A day spent wandering.
The direction "West" was mentioned, and several people
nodded in agrement. No agenda. No set destination. Our plan was
to just go and see what we would find. This was discussed, and everyone
said yes.
We were all game.
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