Hipster Boy Haircut Rules

At the Animal Collective show last night, there were many fashion abominations manifest in hipster outfits. I enjoyed observing these so-called fashion a-bombs, and would like to report some notable anthropological trends amongst this demographic.


There are two types of hipster boy haircuts of note:

1. The short cut that grows out to the long, shaggy, shapeless hair mess.

2. The managed do.

The managed do is a little more interesting, often more flattering, though the maintence required can skew the do to ridiculous. A few rules of a successful-looking managed do include:

• paying a lot for hair highlights, but not washing the hair for several days to achieve some kind of hipster shabby chic paradise of the head
  

• what I call "the tidal style" can be applied to the hair where the hair on the left side of the head is whooshed forward with some type of hair product, while the hair in the front is whooshed to the left to create some kind of peak with the hair on side of the head

I will also note that the shirtless vest look seems to be back in rotation with the hipster demographic. I can only shudder at the sight. I actually saw this look applied with a dog tag style bolo tie and the "tidal style" hairdo mentioned above.

Fashion A-bomb!

Animal Collective

Animal Collective - "Campfire Cyclops"

I called this dude in the band "Campfire Cyclops" because he had long hair that was all smushed up by some LED headlamp that he wore for most the show.

Logan Square Auditorium

Creaking Trees

Yesterday I got a chance to walk through the beautiful Morton Arboretum in Lisle, IL. By Chicago standards, this really is "the woods", and a well-maintained one at that.

Even though nothing is growing yet, the idea of impending spring makes the waning winter landscape rather breathtaking. The tans, beiges, browns, yellows and grays of dried grass and bare tree trunks create a quiet and peaceful ambiance. The wind blows just enough that you can hear a slight creaking of the trees over the sounds of trickling water from melting ice in the small rivers and streams.

Like pursuing any passion of the many that life has to offer, cultivating a passion for nature can fill a lifetime.

Oh, Devilish Babies!

I don't have any children. But a lot of other people do.

And I've observed that some women say crazy stuff to babies.
Lately, I've noticed some crazy baby talk in the locker at the gym where I belong.

One lady in her skivies was trying to convince a toddler who had grabbed a hair dryer to blow dry her hair.

Another Ethel Merman voiced lady was saying: "Oh, it's a rock 'n roll baby, that's my rock 'n roll girl" about a baby who had just got out of baby swim class, bouncing and happy as a clam.

It's true that these babies are adorable, but there is something about the public arena of the locker room - the half-nakedness, the all ages ladies - that make this type of locker room talk extra entertaining for eavesdropping purposes.

Is it me, or is Paula Abdul looking more like Janet Jackson every day?

With the round eyes, small straight nose, too sharp cheekbones, and gravity-defying jawline, I SWEAR that Paula got a referral from Janet for a plastic surgeon.

New Age Mannequin - More Red Velour for February

Well, the new age mannequin in my neighborhood got all dolled up for Valentine's Day.
She's wearing a red velour dress - she just loves red velour - and red strappy prom shoes.
Aside from the velour material, it's a much more modest cut than her previous outfits.

I think this mannequin needs a name.
Something perfectly new age-y... anyone have any ideas?

• Chakra Khan?
• Starfish Sally?
• Molly Moonbeam?
  

Sayonara, Gangsters!

Excerpt from the book, "Sayonara, Gangsters".

I'm sure it also feels odd to be told that "I teach poetry at a poetry school."

"You don't say?" people moan, or "Isn't that something!" and then they just stand there, grinning at me, their minds racing as if they're trying to work through the most difficult puzzle in the world.

Lost in their thoughts, they begin to droop.
And so I send out the lifeboat.
"Listen, it's just another job.
I had no choice you see, I needed a job.
Teaching poetry is no different from typing 60 words a minute or conveying 100 volts of electrical current into the head of a pig and sending if off to heaven, and I don't think I need to feel ashamed of what I do."

"Of course not! It's a great job, really, that teaching poetry stuff! I mean, it's poetry you're talking about, right? Wow, that's so incredible!"

Discovery of a Classical Music Mecca

On Friday I went to see the Richard Alston Dance Company as part of the Columbia College dance center series. The performance was really pretty. With a lot of very romantic modern balletic dancing by male and female couples, it was on the traditional side. One of the pieces had music that was absolutely gorgeous - some sinfonia and madrigal music by Claudio Monteverdi.

I liked this music so much that I went on a hunt to try and find it. As a classical music novice, I didn't realize what few stores carry a good selection. Apparently, classical music does not sell well these days. I tracked down one store that has a pretty great selection of classical, jazz, and opera - the Tower Records on Wabash. Amazing! They are also one of those stores that you sometimes get a surprise deal - like something is on sale but not marked as such.

What are YOU passionate about?

In the past 6 months, I have had been going out a lot and meeting a lot of people. During this time at least three men have asked me "So, what are you passionate about?" as a pick-up line. This has started to become my conversational pet peeve.

The concept is good; who doesn't love to talk about themselves?
But it is a conversational dead end when there is a 90% chance that we will never see each other again.

I try to say something surprising and non-personal when asked this question in the hope of rescuing the conversation from the throes of death. During the speed dating, when asked this question I said, "I'm passionate about water. I just love water," because I was really scared of that super-duper long-haired medieval guy and trying to keep the three minutes as impersonal as possible.

Last weekend, after "What are you passionate about?" did not solicit a response, another guy tried this variation: "If you could do anything you wanted to do tomorrow, what would it be?"

When I said, "pack up a suitcase, travel to a tropical island, and sit on a beach all day overlooking the ocean," that did not seem to be *good enough* for my suitor.

"What would you do the next day?" he asked.

"Hmm. I'd probably do that same thing for about two weeks," I said.

And this was an obvious disappointment to this guy. Was he looking for me to say something like, "I want to solve the world's problems and I'm going to start by traveling to Africa and distributing condoms for HIV prevention."

If you're going to judge my answer to a stupid-ass line like that, why ask?

Guys, maybe you could talk about something that you're passionate about, and ask me some related questions to find out if I'm passionate about that too. Or, I don't know... talk about movies or books can at least lead to some subject matter worthy of a passionate discussion.

Retire the Llama

When I was in college, I had what my friends and I called "the llama coat."
I bought it at one of those token hippie college stores where they sell staple college clothing imports such as those huge wool sweaters and hemp necklaces.

For about a year, I wore the llama coat with pride. It even smelled vaguely like a llama, or at least a goat or something. Over time, the llama pelt became matted and worn and I had to pitch it out. I don't think it was even dry clean-able, plus, who dry cleans stuff in college?

From this experience, I've been slightly turned off by anything - coats especially - made of faux fur. The main fashion disturbance created by faux fur is not it's initial fluffy or furry state, but rather in the upkeep. It looks good for the first four months, but like the llama, the pelt begins to mat and clump. And girls, this is not cute.

I saw a young woman with this kind of worn, clumpy white coat on the train this morning. And I thought: upon it's purchase it was probably a very fierce coat. But, unless you spend some serious $$$ on the high quality materials, the fierce faux fur has a rather short shelf life.

The Pigeon Friend, Part II

So, Q-Dogg mentioned that the guy kissing pigeons is a neighborhood character. See a reprint of the Chicago Tribune article that tells more about him here.

Pigeon Art

There's an interesting art project called "Urban Eyes" that was done by a dude name Marcus Kirsch, which is talked about on the awesome "We Make Money Not Art" website.

He wanted people to see the world from the view of pigeons. Read about it here.

In the Company of Pigeons

I left work early yesterday and I saw a heartbreaking sight on my way home.

An older man was standing in a plaza. He was there to feed the pigeons, and like pigeons accustomed to being fed, they perched all over his arms and head. The man was bobbing his head to touch the pigeon feathers to his cheek.

It made me so, so sad. How lonely would someone have to be to try to get comfort in this way?

Unlike many people, I like pigeons. They are guarunteed company for all kinds of lonely people in plazas all over the world. See the "rant" I wrote on pigeons here. It's part way down the page and signed as "Margie McNorkus."

Highest Number of Characters Per Capita - Bridgeport

I've been exploring the Bridgeport neighborhood of Chicago recently.
The more I explore the neighborhood, the more old time Chicago characters I meet and hear about.

Bridgeport is almost like its own town. It contains the remnants of the Chicago stockyards, a history of political clout, and a lot of people whose families have lived in the neighborhood for generations. When the stockyards were first built, Bridgeport was located at the exact city limits of Chicago. No one in the city wanted the stink of the stockyards nearby, but because there was no refrigeration back then, they couldn't be too far away because of rail shipping.

Back in the stockyard days, all the blood, guts, and gunk would be washed from the processing plants into one of the original "headwaters" of the Chicago River, infamously and ever after named Bubbly Creek due to methane gas created from decomposing animal parts. There is much historical lore about Bubbly Creek, and I will tell you that a lot of stories still exist in the minds of the people that live in the neighborhood, as if they were passed along in the genes.

Take a walk through Bridgeport you may hear for yourself about so-and-so's uncle who scooped the lard out of Bubbly Creek and sold it on the streets as soap. Or about the inspectors that would walk out to the creek to check that the meat processing was using all the correct animal parts and discarding all the wrong ones. Meet the people who have hung on to manufacturing businesses there, despite the folding of the manufacturing industry in the Midwest.

Superbowl XL - Please get over the boob

I don't want to say that the Rolling Stones rocked the halftime show. It's not that they didn't rock, but I just don't want to say so.

Mick Jagger looked kind of adorable with his black sparkly black rhinestone t-shirt and his silver sparkly belt.
Keith Richards was fine.
"I Can't Get No Satisfaction" - fine.

But I couldn't help wondering, is a woman performer going to ever get a chance to play the Superbowl halftime show again? Are we that afraid of a boob exposure? Are we so afraid, that we can't even let anyone, even a male performer, onto the Superbowl stage that was born before 1970? Some man that even, god forbid, likes boobs?

The history of the Superbowl halftime show is such that for years and years the show was performed by a select college marching band. The first pop band to play the Superbowl was New Kids on the Block. After that, there were many ensemble groups of pop stars. There has only been a few who did the show solo - Diana Ross, Michael Jackson, and last year, Paul McCartney (boo.) There have been a number of great women performers who did an awesome job in ensemble, sang modern songs, and managed to do so without indecent exposure.

I'd like to see more of that.

Camille Paglia Speaks in Chicago

Camille Paglia came to speak at the Harold Washington Library on Monday night.
I was expecting to strongly dislike her because of her ego, her intellectual style, and some of the subject matter about which she writes. But I was pleasantly surprised.

I liked her style - she was funny, spunky, and kinda surly. Some of her most interesting thoughts were:

• The bitterness in our cultural discourse because of partisan politics.
• The "self-cannibalizing" of many young writers and artists, rather than self-examination. Many young writers [commercially published] are searching so desperately for a subject that they mine their personal experiences to death - boring!
• The need for people to read more and know more history
• While she is very opinionated, she seemed to me to be open to discuss and debate with a well-reasoned argument. I think our culture does need more people that are willing to take a position and reason it out, but be open to debate.
  

Some of her more blase raves fell short because:

• Like many people that came of age in the 60s, she ain't over it and she hasn't updated with the culture outside of mainstream media where there is in fact a lot of cool shit happening
• Her argument that she's "in touch with the people" is that she listens to sports talk radio and knows that James Frey got dogged on Oprah. While that might make her more in touch with common folks than most academics, I still wouldn't say she speaks with the people's voice.

Grief.

My uncle Mark passed away yesterday.
It was somewhat unexpected, and very sad for the family. He is survived by his wife, his seven brothers and sisters, two children, two grandchildren, and many nieces and nephews.

Grief is a difficult thing. Everyone deals with it in a different way - by arguing, by crying, by looking through old pictures, by making jokes, by cleaning everything in sight, and on and on.

The most important thing is not to feel alone.