still lethargic from who knows what, i woke up late and loafed around the apartment. talking with lane until he headed out to school. watching the squirrels climb the phone lines and frozen tree branches. lane gave me the not for tourists guide to chicago and pointed out several neighborhoods i should visit. it was still nestled in my bag from yesterday. the one item he gave me that i absolutely would never carry was the gigantic fold out map of chicago. equivalent to the size of a medium area rug, i ran the chance of looking 'uncool' with a map in a big city. no way.
figured i would go to the lincoln park neighborhood. do a little walking. maybe shopping. visit the actual lincoln park. grab a very late lunch.
so the walk over to the jarvis stop was excruciating. unfairly cold. brittle iced air. thursday's weather babied me. coddled me into thinking the cold winds could be acceptable. but no! no! i actually said 'shit' outloud as i was walking to the station because of how unbelievably piercing the cold felt on my face. i learned quickly after this day that i should never leave the apartment without a scarf. so i got on the red line. my intended stop was addison but it came and went as i sat there frozen eyes, holding my cold red fingers. the sharp frozen air scared me. how could it possibly be this cold? it's ok. whatever. i told myself. i'll just ride the train til the loop and turn back around back to addison. it'll give me time to warm. we passed lake. passed monroe. passed jackson. and i remained in my seat. mentally, i could not get off the train. my knees were rigid. my neck felt stiff. and i didn't dare to rustle through my bag. i just sat there lifeless. watching the building pass by slowly at first and then speeding up! we would accelerate for a few seconds and then level off before it slowed again at its next stop. and again. and again. the calm and repetitiveness of each train stop soothed my anxious body. at garfield i finally moved my body. i would get off and take the red line back up to addison.
the walk from the stop to the lincoln park area was painful. almost hilariously painful. my face felt raw from the icy winds. the arches on my feet shot painful electricity up my legs with each step. and no matter how insulated those black gloves seemed, my fingers felt numb from the cold. i walked down to, it seems, a gay neighborhood. there were rainbow flags all over the window displays. the thai restaurant i ate at had rainbow stickers on the front door and several, i assumed to be, gay couples. gay power couples. these were people who make over $900K of income a year. and my ratty striped sweater and messy hair was so out of place there, i kept my head down and fingernail polish hidden. neon pink seemed so fucking juvenile.
so guess what? i told myself, 'fuck this. my feet have shooting pain and my face is permanently red from the ice winds. i'm going home. lincoln park and northeastern winds can fucking die.' on the way back to the bus, i found a library. exactly what i needed. free indoor entertainment.
i know whatcha mean, man.
they had a fairly decent amount of chicago interest reference books. finally! searching for 'things to do' on the interweb can be such a con. you know, adverts, bullshit sponsor links, nonsense tourist asswipe locales. somehow books have that great quality of relaying info more accurately. plus, when you get mad at a book, it feels wonderful to slam it shut. i've yet to figure out how to be as violent to the web though.
did you know that i'm related to melvin p.? no joke. he's my great great grand uncle. tris' (my dad's dad) uncle. he killed john dillinger, so i've been told, but i don't know much more about him. i'll have to ask tris when i get back to albuquerque. i've got to say, he's a pretty good looking guy too. i knew he was the head of the FBI somewhere but didn't realize it was CHICAGO until i saw him in this book. he's associated with the capture of other gangsters. wikipedia says baby face nelson and pretty boy floyd. what a great time and place, chicago in the early 1930s. the end of an era.
jotted down a few MUST SEES! something called kiki's dolls was on my list. left the library a little warmer, prouder, and happier. prouder. hmmm. at the point of GREAT GREAT GRAND UNCLE, who isn't related to melvin p.? but still, i feel a new ownership to the crooks, gangsters, g-men and dames of the jazz age of chicago. flapper costume, here i come.
funny. i just remembered i've been coveting a flapper hairstyle since i left albuquerque. the times! femininity as retained by ages of plucking and cutting and shaping and staining, combined with that strong gush of power from the suffrage movement. forceful gushing cultural changes like the strong winds gushing into the city of chiago. gangsters! prohibition! i'm going to make the late 20s into the 30s my next history assignment.
i think i've got the eyes to pull it off, possibly, but not the neck. idk. i'll do some hairstyle research first. consequently, this may involve dying my orange wig brown. and losing 20 pounds. at least my nipples look like the right size and shape.
met up with lane and ash after work and school and library time. we went to the salvation army in evanston or somewhere around that area.
i bought a bowling ball knit sweater, rust colored ultra cleavage sweater, gray and white skulls pullover, white herringbone miniskirt, and brown gap cardigan. under 12 dollars. sweet deal. and i only slightly barfed in my mouth at the sight of a silky white underwear sewn to a cream colored blouse.
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