It was an eventful weekend, within my own circle of acquaintance, as well as on the public stage. The weather in Chicago was gorgeous and sunny, enough to infuse one with a profound sense of pending loss, as we expect those leaves to start turning color and falling any day now. Maybe it was this mood of happy urgency that rendered these weekend oddities just a bit funnier:
Lost: One regulation size Gaiam yoga mat. I hopped on the Brown Line at Damen on Friday morning, on my way to my downtown Pilates class, packed like the proverbial rat. Six pounds of dumbbells, two novels and my journal in my bag, yoga mat tucked under my arm. I became engrossed in my book, as I often do, so much so that I nearly forgot to get off at the Chicago Red Line station. In my haste to leave before the doors closed, I neglected something critical: my mat. I realized my mistake and turned around in slo-mo just as the electronic entrance slammed shut, and the train began to move again.
Found: I had exactly 15 minutes to get a new mat before class started. The staff at Nike Town are unhelpful slags. At the front door, they assured me they sold yoga gear. Three flights of stairs and a conversation with the floor manager later, all I had to show for myself was the loss of a precious 8 minutes. Likewise, Macy’s and Walgreens are not fitness inclined. It was at Border’s I finally found a new mat – and it was way cushier than my old one. I will chalk this up as a karmic plot to secure me new exercise equipment, rather than as evidence of my senility.
Sid Beaverhousen – aka my old pal Brandon
Lost: One pair of fierce red platform shoes. On Saturday afternoon, Eddie and I met Brandon at his new apartment in order to walk together to our friend Jeremy’s 35th birthday party in Andersonville. Brandon is a creative guy with a funkly, artistic sensibility. He strapped on these shoes that were a work of art – three inch platforms that kind of made Brandon look like a white, blond Shaft as he strutted down Clark Street. We were just a few blocks from the bar when I looked behind me and saw Brandon come to a screeching halt. This is when Eddie and I saw it. The sole of his right shoe had completely slipped off. Brandon prides himself on being unflappable, but he could not cover his annoyance and embarassment fast enough to escape my notice. The broken footwear was hilarious enough on a crowded street in broad daylight, but what really put me over the edge was the following plaintive wail: “What am I going to do now?!”
Found: Once I managed to pick myself off the pavement (yes, there has long been a warm spot in hell waiting for Boop), Brandon, now walking along in just his socks, began to realize he couldn’t enter a bar barefoot. The options were to turn around and go home, not beloved as we had walked a long way by then, or stop and buy a new pair of shoes. I am happy to report this story ends happily, with Brandon sporting a new pair of white Steve Maddens that cost a mere $40. The incident also provided me with a story to retell ad nauseum for the evening.
Lost: The great hope that Jay Cutler was going to serve the team any better than Rex Grossman or Brian Griese, at least after game one. Four turnovers – wow.
Found: The all-too sensible perspective that it’s going to take more than a marquee quarterback to give Da Bears a golden season. Like, for example, how about some competent wide receivers?
Lost: His mind, his respect for fellow artists and his read of the collective public opinion that it is not OK to humiliate teenage girls onstage, no matter how rich and famous they might be.
Found: After the crap display of Congressman Joe Wilson last week, and this Kanye incident, America rises up and decides its had its fill of public boorishness and rudeness. I would not like to be the third public figure to try this overbearing garbage. The climate is finally intolerant to something we can all agree is no good for our culture – arrogrant hysteria.