Today we read our damned lease and discovered that, in 2 weeks, when we move, we actually will be homeless for one full day and night. This is because we have to be out of our current apartment by 8 a.m. of July 31, but can’t move in to the new place (exactly 1/2 block away) until August 1. I’m really, really tired of being displaced. Really.
My man Ryan knows what I’m talking about. He and his good gal crossed the nation and lived six months trying to make a life on the East Coast, only to be rebuked by the weird, institutional gods of destiny. They then had to pack it all up again and haul freight back across the country. At last they’re in good ol’ Berkley and life has returned to the way it should be.
Anyway, these 3 photographs are from our recent sojourn to Chi-town. At Millennium Park, there was a scourge of human larvae screaming and shrieking and writhing underneath a big fountain, which gushed right onto them at recurring intervals. Basically, it was a Blakean masterpiece. We pantsed Eleanor and tossed her into the fray, and she made us proud by rocketing around in total wonderment, pulling braids of unknown kiddos, laughing like a baby hyena, and monkeying around with strange soulmate kids who picked her up in their slippery arms and said, “Mama! Look!”
I tossed my wallet and keys into a pile by a bush and said “I’m getting under that fountain. Anybody who takes my wallet and keys can have ‘em. I won’t be a slave to my dumb attachments today!” We then leapt into the fray too and I got good and soaked by a pack of gleeful six year olds who attacked me with total vicious abandon. Up on the hill, that weird bean-shaped sculpture (see yesterday’s post) vibrated and shone like a prophecy, reflecting modern man back to himself while God watched complacently and finished off a rib plate with fries.