Every Picture Tells a Story: 6/2/09

Ice advertisement, Western Ave. & Monroe Street, Chicago.

Every Picture Tells a Story: 6/1/09

Rusted lock on chain-link fence, Horner Park.

Poe Street

I must be honest--I didn't even know Chicago had a street named after Edgar Allan Poe until I stumbled across it on the way to the Wolf Camera on Clybourn Avenue.

It's on the way home--well, sort of--and since Wolf/Ritz closed their Loop location, it's the most convenient location for me to go to for burning my CDs and getting my photography blown up for those occasions when I actually make a sale. (In this economy, those occasions are fewer and farther between than they used to be, but I still have a couple of friends whose apartments contain virtual galleries of my work.)

You'd think one of the greatest American writers would merit something more than a truncated, jagged afterthought--Poe Street runs barely a full block and occupies space that would otherwise be an alley--and other famous writers like Dickens and Shakespeare have proper sidestreets bearing their names.

I suppose, however, that it's better than not being remembered at all.

Office Talk

ME: "Urrrrr."

CO-WORKER # 1: "What's wrong."

ME: "Hung over. Didn't even drink that much, but had Thai food after."

CO-WORKER #1: "That food is good."

ME: "Yes, it was. Not so much for drinking, though."

CO-WORKER #1: "Last night, I drank sangria from a glass jar."

ME: "Did you eat the fruit at the bottom?"

CO-WORKER #1: "I'm half-Spanish. I know better."

There Go the Hawks, the Mighty Blaaaaackhawks

Hockey season is officially over in Chicago.

Considering, however, that it's been a very long time since hockey season even mattered in Chicago, one must give credit where it is most certainly due. The Blackhawks, a mostly young and inexperienced team, wasn't expected to go this far--all the way to the conference finals for the first time in over a decade--and, with the exception of Game 4, in which the much-despised Detroit Red Wings slapped the snot out of the Hawks 6-1, this was an exciting series to watch, with three of the five games going to overtime, including last night's loss.

(I was at Mom's house for dinner last night, and we watched most of the back half of Game 5, including both goals scored in regulation and the amazing save by Hawks goalie Cristobal Huet, who blocked a Red Wings shot with the blade of his right skate why lying on his "tummy"--yes, the announcer for Versus, presumably an adult talking to adults, actually used the word "tummy" to describe the action.)

And, given the relative youth of the current squad--the team captain is only 21--the Blackhawks should be a force in the NHL for years to come.

Every Picture Tells a Story: Prologue

OK. I admit it. I've been bad about posting updates to the bloggity this month.

There are plenty of reasons--excuses, really--for my absence: Busy at work, birthday malaise, general lack of things to say, blee blee, blah blah. I have, however, kept up with taking pictures on the side, even if I haven't been posting them here.

This, dear reader, is to your benefit--or, more accurately, it will be.

I've decided that, for the month of June, I will post at least one photo a day. Most of the pictures will be in color and from the last year and a half--not so coincidentally, the very same amount of time that I've had my little Kodak digital camera. I will, however, still sneak some of my favorite black & white images in as well.

So drop by every day starting next Monday--you never know what you'll see.

Office Talk

COWORKER #1: "[Coworker #2] is leaving us for two weeks!"

ME (to Coworker #2): "Where are you going for two weeks?"

COWORKER # 2: "Vacation."

ME: "Where?"

COWORKER # 2: "Texas."

ME: "That's not a vacation. That's a sentence."