Bacterial conjunctivitis due to the common pyogenic (pus-producing) bacteria causes marked grittiness/irritation and a stringy, opaque, grey or yellowish mucopurulent discharge (gowl, goop, “gunk”, “eye crust”, sleep, or other regional names) that may cause the lids to stick together (matting), especially after sleeping.
And of course, it’s in my shooting eye… today will be a difficult day at work. Damn it.
Update: Four days later, it’s gone. I no longer cause small children to weep.
Back from my trip to the corn-loving state of Nebraska, it feels oh so strange returning to work after a week off. There’s a new website, the Flaming Lips concert I’m shooting Friday night, and our final house party this Saturday. I move into a beautiful new apartment next week and return to a roommate-less life. A lot to discuss. Mr. Franklin, are you there?
“When you’re finished changing, you’re finished.”
Over the past few weeks, a remote camera atop Jobst Hall has been taking pictures of work on the Robertson Field House site. I created a video of the time-lapse images, showing the demolition and site-clearing to date. Special thanks to our friends at 89.9 WCBU for use of their control room window.
I swear this is the last entry about that damned Field House… I’m a little burned out on it.
Somewhere over Minnesota
3pm I just managed to have one of those extra-dramatic “I gotta get on that plane!” moments this afternoon while trying to catch a flight to Minneapolis. And yes, I ran with one shoe on, untied, toward the gate just to see the plane taxi away. My fault for cutting it so close, but also their fault (NorthWest) for not staffing the ticket counter and leaving the gate 25 minutes before the estimated departure time. Everyone should probably have one of these to keep them humble, right? Sheesh.
9pm Half-way there to Lincoln, Neb. The approach into Minneapolis was trying, with plenty of action for the thrill seekers as the dinky prop plane kept slipping and sliding toward the runway. The big Bass ale I drank with dinner has gone straight to my head; I can see lightning in the distance. A jet awaits us.
11pm I’ve made it! More to follow…
It’s the same drill each time. A fire call on the scanner, a quick check of the maps and you’re off. I go from puttering around the office on 4 cylinders (there’s a lot of paper to be pushed around, right?) to roaring like a turbo-charged, rip-roaring jackal. The situation escalates as I’m weaving in and out of traffic. “Fully engulfed,” “roof collapse,” “mutual aid” – all jargon telling us this is no kitchen fire.
I’m the first on the scene out of the Peoria media. The NBC affiliate arrives a minute later, with the rest of the ragtag media crews showing up 5-10 min later. There’s a lot of smoke and I wonder if I will smell it every time I exhale the next few days. Flames are raging, and I keep circling the scene trying to find some sort of unobstructed angle.
Things are under control by this point. The sky is darkening to a shade reserved for hail and big, jagged lightning. Someone crackles over the scanner with a report of a funnel cloud. I hop into my car and head back to the office, unable to see out of my windshield as the maximum amount of water that can possibly fall out of sky suddenly does, soon peppered by loud, obnoxious hail the size of peas or small marbles.
I’m on edge.
THE NORTH HANGER: Still intact 11:14am, flattened by 11:29am
Thanks to our friends at WCBU on the Bradley campus, I’ve had a remote camera set up for the past several weeks monitoring the deconstruction process on the east side of the Field House. The result has been a slew of boring frames where little has happened for days on end, punctuated by large sections suddenly disappearing in between shots. I missed the big collapse Tuesday morning by less than a hour, reminding me that I can’t always be everywhere at once. Kirk Wessler has some first-hand accounts of the big event.
For those curious, I’m using a spare D1x with a 10.5mm fisheye lens, driven by a PocketWizard set to trigger the camera every 15 minutes. I’ll be posting a time-lapse video later this week.
Parachutes in a blue sky over Peoria (and more)
So much to write about, so much to remember, so much to do. A moment, please.
[Over a cup of coffee]
BY STEPHEN DOBYNSOver a cup of coffee or sitting on a park bench or
walking the dog, he would recall some incident
from his youth–nothing significant–climbing a tree
in his backyard, waiting in left field for a batter’s
swing, sitting in a parked car with a girl whose face
he no longer remembered, his hand on her breast
and his body electric; memories to look at with
curiosity, the harmless behavior of a stranger, with
nothing to regret or elicit particular joy. And
although he had no sense of being on a journey,
such memories made him realize how far he had
traveled, which, in turn, made him ask how he
would look back on the person he was now, this
person who seemed so substantial. These images, it
was like looking at a book of old photographs,
recognizing a forehead, the narrow chin, and
perhaps recalling the story of an older second
cousin, how he had left long ago to try his luck in
Argentina or Australia. And he saw that he was
becoming like such a person, that the day might
arrive when he would look back on his present self
as on a distant relative who had drifted off into
uncharted lands.Source: Poetry (December 2001).
Just call me Rip Van Winkle.
I’ve somehow managed to sleep through a 5.2 magnitude earthquake at around 4:30am this morning. All the other “Princess and the Pea” sleepers across Illinois were roused from bed, most believing they were being robbed. But that doesn’t mean I’m sleeping soundly; no no, I wake at 5:30am and fitfully wrestle with the sandman for the next three hours. I missed the big show and would have to live with it.
I wake again at 11am, check the Internet and proceed to weep quietly into my pillow. A 4.6 aftershock at 10:15am failed to do much at all in my house; I had just made a very unconscious decision to sleep through TWO earthquakes in one morning. I’m left living vicariously through comments on various news articles:
“The quake moved my bed across my room. I woke up and I was awake. I went into the kitchen and got a chocolate chunk cookie. I ate it. I then went pee. After that I washed my hands. Then I got ready for work. I forgot shoes. What was I talking about…”
Posted by SHE—RAHHHHH“I was asleep during this supposed ‘first quake’ and in the bathroom at work during the second one. I felt nothing either time. This is all an elaborate hoax by you people to make me lose my mind. Yes that’s right – I felt nothing in the bathroom. It was business as usual…”
Posted by Hip Young Gunslinger“Sorry, It was my new car stereo. I installed eight 40 inch woofers. I needed 2 additional alternaters to keep the battery alive, but it rocks! Again, sorry about all the cracked masonary…”
Posted by Kev“I was totally playing the original ‘QUAKE’ when it happened.”
Posted by Jeffrey“When the quake happened, I thought I must be hallucinating. But the unicorns seemed to notice it as well, so I guess I wasn’t.”
Posted by Chicagoan
April: Lotsa lotsa rain
I’m feeling sickly today; is there a golf ball of phlegm stuck in the back of my throat? I’m nearly incapacitated at the moment, my brain farting around as those damn pink and white antihistamine pills do their worst. Better than the alternative of a snotty nose? You decide.
Last week heralded the birthday of Walter Hunt, an ingenious man prone to inventing really important items out of midair when he needed the cash. On April 10, 1849, he sold a patent for a bent piece of wire to repay a $15 debt. And thus the safety pin was born. Safely.
Hunter Zentz
Erinn, my co-worker, just moved into a new place across the street from work and had a few of us over. Hit board game Apples to Apples was busted out and we listened to Beatles albums quietly on her record player (she doesn’t have a phono pre-amp, for those in the know.) It was a lovely first evening, an appropriate house warming. The night took a turn for the weird when we started discussing home invasions and how common they are…
“Should we be worried with four of us?” I asked.
“Did you hear that?” Dave joked. Laughter from all!
BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG! Someone is trying to break down the front door.
**simultaneous heart attacks**
It was her neighbor above her, stark raging mad at our loudness. Sure, this sort of scene has happened to most of us… volume often escalates with fun times, sometimes needing a friendly reminder to tone it down. But this was far beyond friendly, bordering more on a “will he hurt us?” level. Forget three strikes and you’re out, this is one and done. Erinn groveled her best, an amount that could even appease Stalin… but he wouldn’t have any of it. Background checks on neighbors, anyone?
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