A Nice Evening

My first dinner guests at the Cloister were over tonight: my daughter, my landlord/friend and her boyfriend. I served a pasta with a meat sauce (cooked down tomatoes, some ground beef, a bit of garlic salt, olives on the side).

My daughter played Neopets; my guests and I talked about all sorts all sorts of cool things...rock and roll, politics, books, etc.

A good time was had by all.

New Age

It is Saturday a.m., October 13...President Dwight Eisenhower's birthday, if I recall correctly.

Sitting at my table in the cloister, my daugther playing/drawing in her notebook on the coffee table nearby, and the Velvet Underground's "New Age" from the Live 1969 album playing.

It is indeed a new age...full of wonder and new marvels, naked revelations, transformation, new friends, new lovers, new cities....redefined relationships with old lovers and old friends.

And a major emotional/psychological challenge...which my soul mate has told me I must fight...so, fight I will.

"Something's got a hold on me and I don't know what....it's the beginning of a new age."

Chicago Chronicles: Jazz, Man!

We ended our time in Chicago last Sunday (10/7/07) at a jazz bar called the Hungry Brain, a neat little hole in the wall with cheap drinks and great jazz. This night it was a band called, "Mostly Other People Do The Killing," whose creations and improvisations were so enjoyable, I bought their CD. They are NYC based, so at some point, I might try to see them down there...and drag my wing gal with me. But be-bop jazz is one of my favorite styles...and sitting at the bar, bourbon in hand, entranced and engaged by the music, and I was back where/when I belonged: 1957! An occasional hug, scratch on the head, or pat on the back from my wing gal brought me back to 2007, but just for those moments (or was she there in 1957 with me?), the band kept playing, and I went back home.

Journal Upkeep

So far, not so good on the journal upkeep.

I guess I need to be motivated to write, but sometimes it's a bit of a paradox. I want to write to express the thoughts and feelings, in order to process them, but sometimes I don't feel up to writing, which kind of defeats the point of having the journal in the first place.

Chicago Chronicles: Photos

A few photos from the Chicago adventure.:



Magnificent Mile Marriott Courtyard, Friday, 10/5/07. Dirty martini for the dirty old poet, and an Old Fashioned for his proofreader.




Recuperating from my t-bone steak at the Chicago chophouse (evidence of steak to follow), Saturday, 10/6/07.




Grape Street and Vine Piano Bar, Saturday, 10/6/07.

Chicago Chronicles: Abraham Lincoln Bookshop

On my travels, I sought out and found this incredible bookstore. It was mostly dedicated to President Lincoln, with a wonderful and extensive collection of civil war books, a whole shelf of presidential biographies (in chronological order of administration), rare momentos, photographs, etc.

Naturally, I put myself on their e-mail list.

I am proud to say that I got out of there without spending a dime.

However, I just ordered this book online:



Look forward to reading it, after I finish Donald's "We Are All Lincoln Men."

Journal

Having nothing better at the airport to do yesterday except drink $6 beers and gab with single women at airport bars, I picked up a nice notebook in which I can document my thoughts, feelings, observations. I may be a bit depressed, and I may know why, so I want to capture these moods...at least at the end of the day or at the beginning of the day.

This will be no well-thought out, cleanly edited work; it will be a cold, hard look at the way things are...in my head, in my heart, from my perch. No one else will read it, unless I decide I am ready to transcribe elements for "the novel."

The problem is, I am a bad journal writer...have never been able to write a consistent journal. Ever. Blogging, sure! A poem here or there, of course. But never something so private, or so honest.

We shall see...

Poem Written in Chicago

The Way Monastic

walking dirty city streets in worn out shoes
embracing a life erotic
i want to lay hands on you

sipping a bourbon, perhaps even two
giving up my ways monastic
walking dirty city streets in worn out shoes

brooding intensely of what next to do
sharing no emotion, playing the stoic
i want to lay hands on you

a friendship? a tryst? something totally new?
hopeful for an ending less comic, less tragic
walking dirty city streets in worn out shoes

more bourbon? more flowers? some chocolate fondue?
poetry less morbid, more romantic
i want to lay hands on you

searching, yearning, pining for the Truth
and your hands around your fiddle and bow, fantastic!
walking dirty city streets in worn out shoes
i want to lay hands on you

fprm

(c) 10-7-07

The Chicago Chronicles Begin

I have returned. What a wonderful trip to a wonderful city. Too bad about the Cubs; Chicagoans were a bit disappointed but not surprised. They felt a little better by the end of the day last night, when the Bears beat the Packers.

To start off...I will just throw down a list of the neat places - food, drink, music - that I and my fellow traveler enjoyed...in no order!

* Grape Street and Vine, piano bar; with Arturo at the keys.

* Hungry Brain jazz bar

* Trader Todd's

* Glunz Hofbrau Haus - complete with oompah band

* Chicago Chophouse

* 10-Pin Bowling alley (with 80s and 90s videos over each lane)

* Marriott Courtyard, Magnificent Mile Hotel bar

* Louies' Bar - karaoke

* Billy Goat Tavern - for the triple cheeseborger

* Intercontinental Hotel Bar

* Houndstooth Tavern

* Salt and Pepper Diner

* Hilton O'Hare - breakfast...won't do this again

* room service...$13.00 carafe of mediocre coffee....had to be done

*La Tapenade - O'Hare Airport near our gate...plane delayed.