Think about getting down at Clybourn to head over to Bucktown for a wander but the area is rife with artists and I cannot deal with them this early in the morning – although Filter was tempting as it would be after nine with little coffee.
The lots for the train in Winthrop Harbour are full so have to park “downtown” and walk which gives me the incentive of trying out the new coffee house that everyone seems to steer clear of. I reckon that it is because the coffee not looking like tea is either too strong or not burnt the way they do it at the Clark gas bar.
After getting coffee, it could be due to the fact that there is a picture of the last supper above the coffee bar and I interrupted the barista’s bible reading. It could also be the “You are holy" refrain from the jesus rock station.
The coffee was good – triple shot of espresso French roast in 20 ounces of hot water – lovingly made as I almost missed my train while the espresso maker actually did drip the coffee drop by drop – needs cleaning perhaps.
It was to be a simple day only the leiquinhas wasn’t expecting much. Since I didn’t have to make the pilgrimage to the WGAS, I was free to make another way through the loop and thought about heading down to the crumbling college. About six months ago my ex-departmental assistant rang on the phone from her machine and I summarily hung up. Thought enough time had passed.
Along Van Buren by Cal’s I see two coffee cups half full and make a snap. The last of the roll as I am reloading, I find out that one of them belongs to Tim, a 45 year old bike messenger who has been one for about 16 years.
It seems that to-day wasn’t the best day. He left his keys at home and had to go back for them then realised that he had locked some other keys in the pizza delivery van of a friend of his and was drinking coffee awaiting his arrival.
We chatted, he introduced me to people along the block. Made a few snaps and after about 30 minutes headed south again promising that if the images came out, I would drop them off.
Wandered the South Loop making my way to South Wabash staring at the loft conversions and all the bank branches.
Always get nervous entering crumbling college as I can simply walk in. I am not strip searched, fingerprinted, photographed or tackled by the guards the way one becomes accustomed to at the WGAS but then again – crumbling doesn’t pretend to be that. After all there isn’t all that world’s greatest art to protect and being more of an urban college are more comfortable with diverse peoples.
One would hope that crumbling would follow the methods of the school up the street and stop all their renovating and upgrading – they don’t seem to realise that all they have to do is make plans and never follow through – as I couldn’t find the art department nor my former assistant – but then again that may have been her doing.
An exchange of opening insults, tea at the Dunkin Donuts – noticed that she had started smoking – trading of bragging – she won as crumbling is sending her to Firenze for a month - exchange of horror stories, making me glad that I am at the WGAS as there is no expectation from anyone there – it seems that people where she was were expected to work. Faculty actually carry a full load. Reminded her of the good life in the slacker Valhalla up the road but actually preferred being at a lesser institution – go figure.
It was time – headed up to the Ivory Tower in South Wabash – luckily there was one of the old guards - to look at the proof gave my ok picked one print that was ready and made it to the train – two rolls down wandering back to the train.
I notice that no one asks me for anything – no Streetwise, no spare change, no having to buy a poppy - when, I am carrying a 40 inch roll of paper, maybe they mistake me for another middle aged messenger who cannot afford a bike.
1 comment:
bikes are expensive.
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