You love me! Youuuu love me.
When I see my face in eyeliner and red lipstick, I see the face of my grandmother the age of my age. Cheekbones, eyebrows, glamour, showboat.
A young man at the cocktail party, we’ll call him Sam, told me he was finishing up his undergraduate degree and studying for the MCATs. We talked about the older students in his MCAT prep course, and how he admired them for their attitude toward the tutor. “This one woman in the class, she’ll say, ‘excuse me! You need to speak more slowly!’ None of the rest of us have the guts to do that.”
I mentioned that my father is a doctor, and all three of his children are arty types, didn’t go into medicine. But my baby brother’s girlfriend is in med school, and it was really cool at Thanksgiving to hear her and my dad doctor out, my dad saying, oh yeah, we’ll get some raw chicken and practice sutures tomorrow.
“That could still be you, though,” said Sam. “When you’re 30, you’ll be that woman in the MCAT prep course, calling out the teacher.” I laughed and said it’s a little late for that. He looked confused and I told him that I’m 31. And, of course, flattered myself by asking how old he’d thought I was. “Honestly I thought you were my age—22!” he said.
Sam later lost favor when he kept accusing me of being drunk, or having drunk too much. It’s true, there is sortof a raving way I speak when I’m excited, especially at parties. It’s not a function of alcohol, it’s just me and how I am, like how I speak with a kindof funny accent to a lot of people.
“Son, I am sixteen months stone cold sober. I cannot convey to you just how not drunk I am, and for the rest of my life,” I thought and did not say. Later he said he was Bahà’ì.
“Really!” I said. “What would Bahà’u’llàh have to say about that drink you got there?” Sam was cagey and bashful. I only said it because he’d pushed so hard on me about drinking before. But then, considered that such social retribution is never necessary. He hadn’t been talking about me and my drinking to begin with; all things seen are seen in oneself.
When President O says, “we need to do away with workplace policies that belong in a ‘Mad Men’ episode” …
The building two doors north of me has a big “X” bolted to the side of it, and a bunker in back where that chainlink fence is. Looks like demolition has finally started (power of the X incarnate).
A comic about the Blackhawks, the lions outside the Art Institute, love, anatomy, lesbians, youth, and Chicago.
Originally posted to: ericaricardo.com/vlad/lions
Been friends with Steve for 17 years. Could deliver you decades’ worth of photos of us two in this same pose.
He moved to Long Beach last summer, but was back in town for a show. Too many hot women at his opening [puns intended].
Darwin Deez @schubas
Haven’t seen this kid in ten years. Now he’s a big star. All the kids in the crowd knew all the words.
When he saw me at the bar, there was no hesitation. “Hey, erica,” he said. The tesseract of heart. Lossless.
Seer’s Tower with V + his visiting friend R. Chicago achievement unlocked.
The view was spectacular but no more so than from the restaurant near the top of the Hancock. Had most fun goofing off in the hour and a half line. A line to go through security. A line to get your ticket. A line to get on the elevator. Lines running through the many gift shops.
I have a real weakness for refrigerator magnets and coffee mugs, and there were some excellent ones at these gift shops but I refuse to negotiate with terrorists, and thus let the shopportunities pass by.
Also: will send the folks at the Tower my suggested changes to the trivia available in line. “All this trivia says is, ‘look at how big this fucking tower is.’ They say it over and over!” said V.