12 days

It is the day of the Christmas Party. A group of people younger than me who try to act even younger and end up looking pathetic, picking “hip” places that you thought had disappeared in the 80’s a place where the mediocre food is covered by the cheesy entertainment, the opposite of intimate. Again acting like 80’s refugées, flagrant excess is in play.

I didn’t go. I simply had to arrange my train into Chicago around it as it was Carol’s firm’s party, and thus the errands that I needed to do before heading back north.

The literary Texan was heading down south and some last minute tweaks to the array of plastic cameras – close focussing, real f stops the usual. The Mormon was in town. I wanted to buy paper, and check out the catalogue that was printed on demand by Daiter Gallery and do a kamikaze drop at a Wicker Park residence.

Mind set has changed. Heading down Damen and missing a bus, I reckoned that I would walk, 30 block walk. The rain had stopped – sort of – and while it was severely overcast, took out the camera when the usual suspects showed up – a pair of trainers neatly placed under a tree, a living room suite in an alley, the formalism that appears at a Chicago six corners.

The idea was to walk until the next bus came as I wouldn’t make it to meeting the Mormon on time. Since I couldn’t walk all the way the idea of endurance test and thus racing past potential images never surfaced.

A nice walk temperature was fine – 5C – but wish that I couldn’t see for miles up and down Damen - if only there was a slight bend.

Saw two people from the WGAS. Made some snaps along division before heading into Laetitia’s.

If there ever was a café in Chicago with a New York attitude this is it. The people who work there are about as friendly and welcoming as an Israeli at the denial of the Holocaust conference in Teheran.
A sign behind the counter reads
LINCOLN PARK - WICKER PARK
Venti large
Grande medium
Tall small
But after dealing with them it seems that they aren’t scoffing at Starbucks swillers but are envious of them. the lattè was decent.

While awaiting the Mormon. There was a digital camera’ed woman who was asking if she could take a snap of people with their coffee.

It would be surprising to the people at the tute how many people said yes – only one said no and only because it was a bother and he was in a hurry - but then again it wouldn’t be if they actually went into the world outside their studios.

She made the mistake of asking me. It soon became duelling cameras. I allowed her than whipped out my much bigger apparatus, extended the lens and made a snap of her – while she was trying to defuse the situation with small talk.

It seems that she worked for a San Fran firm who place adverts on coffee jackets so that the places don’t have to pay for them and she was photographing the jackets being used. We compared cameras and she as off to photograph others while I mumbled that we would all end up on milk cartons.

After the chat, the secret drop in Bucktown and a snack at Penney’s, where we came to the conclusion that all placed are messed up it is merely a matter of degrees and whether and how much they impinge on you, we parted she back to Utah, me to the Loop. I made sure that my papers were in order as I had to enter the HALLOWED GROUNDS or STALAG 280 but again with camera out in the loop photographing things left – a nice souvenir brolly, some deflated yellows balloons trapped in the trees from a DHL party in the park.

Again being in between trains heading north meant that there was no reason to rush and already looking like a Christmas shopper all residual self respect was gone so I might as well look like a Christmas shopper who is also a tourist.