Near Germantown Hills, Illinois early on my birthday, the 20th of July.
My 25th birthday has come and gone, leaving me a quarter-century old. I did nothing out of the ordinary in celebration; Italian food for lunch and a 2-10pm shift at work. Drinks and work friends were enjoyed afterwards.
I also made this, a video piece on the Heart of Illinois Fair’s demolition derby:
Do you see anything wrong with this? It’s the “belt” of nytimes.com on July 15th… and I’m really, really surprised an editor didn’t nix it. Perhaps no one noticed, but surely that’s not the case?
“Umm, yeah, I’ll have a raspberry mocha frappuccino, please.”
I swear, I usually just drink plain old coffee or tea, and the baristas at my neighborhood Starbucks could confirm this. I know every one of them, although know no names.
“Don’t worry about it, man,” he said as I pulled out my wallet. He looked worn and weary, yet here he was trying his damnedest to be kind.
Last night I was driving home from work, passing through downtown, when I almost got in a terrible car accident. I was driving 30 mph through a light that had been green for at least 10 seconds. A SUV suddenly appeared to my left, zooming at 50mph+ through a red light. I jammed my foot on the brake, immediately turning the wheel very slightly toward the left and managed to NOT lock up my wheels and avoid the asshole by about a foot. I have no idea how I was that focused at 10:30pm at night.
Two completely different events, but both reminders of life good and bad.
Here is a multimedia project from Cornerstone Festival 2007 near Bushnell, Ill. that I finished several weeks ago. I spent the day out there shooting both stills and video, wandering around the Christian music festival that attracts 20,000 kids each year.
Download the high quality H.264 Quicktime version (45mb)
Alternative Flash version
I also produced a sound-slideshow on the John S. Rhodell Brewery down on the Peoria riverfront. The owner has a thick Scottish brogue, which made recording him all the more fun.
I groused about my the July 3rd festivities in Chicago… but the 4th single-handedly made the trip worthwhile. First stop? Lincoln Park and Lakeview with old college friends Bo and Wallis.
The guy between Bo and I actually snuck into the shot on purpose. As soon as the flash popped, the bike dude rode past and cackled “I’m in your picture!”
Things improved the farther you went from Taste. Sure, millions are milling all around you. Perhaps the concert and fireworks show will be worth the hassle. I intended to meet up with a new friend, but that fell apart at the last minute. So I wandered alone, quickly realizing that I am THE LAST SINGLE MAN IN CHICAGO.
And so God looked down on the throngs entering Grant Park and did NOT bless them. He instead thought them stupid. Allegedly, the Taste of Chicago allows people to sample dozens of types of cuisine. But when you’re inappropriately pressed into a man’s armpit while navigating between food booths, you start to lose your appetite. And could we move it to a month other than July, please?
SIDENOTE: Over one hundred Taste attendees grew sick afterwards, likely stemming from a hummus dish. Mmmm.
“Why can’t everyone just relax more?” asks the grandmotherly African-American woman seated next to me. “Don’t be so uptight… go with the flow.” This is said while several passengers in front of us complain loudly about train delays, the crowded train, and about their generally horrible lives.
I’ve never been to Chicago in the middle of summer; so why not now? I tell the lady that I’m going to see the fireworks and eat at the Taste of Chicago tonight. “My time has passed for that,” she murmurs. “I hung up my dancing shoes a long time ago.” After repeatedly telling me to be careful, I help her off the train and hand her the enormous suitcase she points at. I receive several hugs in return.
A Native-American man sits at my table in the observation car, with a worn set of headphones around his neck and a can of Pepsi in his hand. Conversation ensues, and by the time the observation car closes, I’ve learned that he’s in his 50s, is returning from San Antonio where he attended a wedding, and that he has a long history with alcohol. His head shakes as he tells me these things. There’s a lot to be learned if you aren’t too afraid of people.
On the train back to Peoria, there was even more excitement. I encounter complications again with making my train on-time (my fault) and missed several while waiting in line for ticket changes. As soon as I find a seat on the train, I hear yelling. “Fuck” is hurled like a projectile, with force and menace between two young men as they each escalate the tension higher and higher. Everyone else grows eerily silent, pretending that everything is okay. It lasts 60 seconds, but leaves most of the car a bit rattled.
A 20-year-old boy with a British accent starts to flirt with two overly-done girls behind him. He tells a story of his boyhood in Chicagoland, his move to England and the fact that he leads an “up and coming band.” The girls trip over themselves as they each attempt to impress, an escalation really not too different from the earlier altercation. “I need a whole orchestra at my disposal,” he says with resignation. “It’s frustrating when you can do it all yourself but you need other people.” The boy eventually makes himself inaccessible through this boasting and the girls settle on taking self-portraits the entire ride back.
I can’t remember having any of this happen on airline flights.
So we’ve endured the unprecedented release of the “Jesus Phone” and now it’s Independence Day Eve. I entertained thoughts of staying in Peoria, relaxing and doing “not much” on my three-day weekend. But since I love torture, I’m now on a train bound for Chicago. In a few hours I’ll be thrust into the madness of Taste of Chicago, with their big fireworks show tonight.
Tell me how you’ll be spending the next few days.
I’ve been busy enough that I’m forgetting to eat enough meals each day, much less take time to do anything but work work WORK. Loads of multimedia projects in the works, and I should be back with you in a few days. Honest.
I’m crappin’ coffee. (update: no longer!)