Woke up from weird dreams tonight. The night before, was woken by strange dreams and sirens, and a whuffling, sneezing kitten.
Our car alarm went off in Pittsburg at around 7am. We were dazed and scattered, unable to comprehend what was going on. Search for keys, searching for windows, unable to remember where we were… very unpleasant.
We were staying with a friend, Sarah, who is endeavouring (at her boyfriend’s request) to become a hippie. Slowly, she is getting more Pink Floyd posters and dreadlocks. The dreads are currently the main issue, and are a whole lot more work than she was expecting.
The HIPPIE Lifestyle. What does that mean? Humans In Persuit of Individual Existance? Not anymore. Means dreads and the Grateful Dead. Pot and being poor. It’s a shame we can’t really make it in with the REAL “hippie” crowds because we don’t do enough drugs. I’ve got all sorts of opinionation on this, but I’m not ready to alienate the friends I HAVE made in these circles QUITE yet.
Anywho, Sarah’s apartment was beautiful, as was Sarah herself. I haven’t seen her that happy in a longtime, so something in her Lifestyle is agreeing with her. I’m hoping it’s her boy, Matt – a seasoned hitchhiker and Life Liver… I’m hoping she’s learning a little about relaxing and just enjoying the world, and I’m hoping he’s learning a little about legitimately caring about someone. But I don’t want to get into my concepts of family.
Last night, we arrived in Chicago, IL. It’s funny, Pittsburg is remarkably different. Mountainous and stone oriented, there is something to remind you of the surrounding terrain everywhere you look. The city is cut into mountains – the streets are made of those mountains, and everything feels like it’s got history.
Chicago has none of that. It feels like a generic… Just Another Big City. There is no reminder that we are 700 miles from home. We are staying in a beautiful house out in the suburbs, but it could be a beautiful house in any suburb of any city.
Well, we’re not staying long – Chicago has about 20 hours to prove it’s individuality to me.
GO!
“Chicago has two seasons – winter, and construction.”
Tim’s deep voice is taking us touring through the Windy City. Upon being asked to take us to lunch at a suitably Chicagoan eatery, we are brought to … er… something Italian and unpronounceable. Tim guides us through ordering an Italian Beef Sandwich, wet.
Yup. Wet. Gravy, apparently, is used to make my sandwich very, very wet. It drips on me, the table, the paper, my arms, my hands, my french fries. It is delicious. It’s what a French Dip OUGHT to be.
Hwah.
Then we go get ANOTHER tire repaired (second since September) the repair guy doesn’t take the hammer approach, but rather pulls a large nail out of the wheel and proceeds to patch it up. Interstates are just treacherous…
and off to the evening’s open mic – Uncommon Ground in Chicago. Awesome talent, great host, Acoustic Boy – he has cultivated a dry, sarcastic persona to keep his open mic under control – and controlled it is. Even with a tight schedule (fitting an open mic into two hours?!!?) and a huge list (he cut it off at 21 slots) he runs it precisely and frictionlessly. Great night. A lot of good players, including our local host, Tim (pictured with his dog – who sneezed – Mystic), who has just written a new song and test drove it to grand applause. Unfortunately, I may have turned a colour or two while watching, because I finished off my chocolate cake while he was playing and the last couple of bites were just icing. Oh God, I still feel ill.
back home, tired – eating chicken noodle soup – I’m wary of tomorrow’s drive. 7 hours if we’re lucky, from Chicago to Omaha. We’re going to get up at 9am. That’s early for us. Sigh.
Sleep.