Ass Whuppin'

I now have 3 (or at least parts of) posts written, that I’ll probably not post. This is primarily because they are too whiney and bitchy, upon re-reading. And, quite frankly, when I see shades of the less pleasant traits (or words) of my mother glaring back at me written in my own hand, it scares the bejesus out of me—the things I vowed I’d never do nor be like ‘when I grew up’.

That being said, I’m not currently feeling bright and cheery—not that these adjectives are frequently attributed to me. I’m in a slump. I’m discouraged. I’m frustrated. I’m pissed. I just finished week # 4 of being on anti-biotics, and just got a ‘script for a new one—for 3more weeks. This fucking sinus infection is still kicking my ass—or kicking the snot out of me to be more literal. I am reminded of one of my favorite books that I read a few summers ago. I bought this book for the title alone, and was NOT disappointed. The title: “Another Bullshit Night In Suck City: A Memoir” by Nick Flynn. I laughed, I cried. It was a good—make that GREAT read. I recommend it. It’d be a good summer beach read.

I DO try to be mindful that it could be worse. There are people in much more dire straits than I. I remind myself of that. It’s sometimes hard to keep that in focus when the back of my right eyeball feels like a punching bag. Chronically feeling like shit just sucks. It sucks poorly. I just turned down an invitation from my friend Mark, to a cookout, because his out of town guest is HIV positive, and I don’t want to risk exposing this sinus infection from hell on to someone else who is immune compromised. Mentally, being in a social setting would, I’m sure do me good. But feeling like the carrier of the black plague at the cookout would not. So, to try to be less like the me in the first paragraph, I’m listing things I’m looking forward to:
The new season of Project Runway
Massage scheduled for Saturday (legit-not the ‘happy ending’ variety, from my friend Louie, who is an exceptional MT—he’s like a PT/MT
I’m seriously thinking about another tattoo—I just have to figure out what I want this one to be—I know I want another Latin quote, to follow suit with the first one. I have to decide which one from my list—maybe I’ll post the options here for vote and/or comment.
Of course there’s more, but it’s a start.

Bus Ride, Part I

It’s all Marc Acito’s Fault

This story requires some set up.

I am told I have a very distinctive laugh. Once, when I was grad school, I went to see a movie. After a particularly funny moment, in a dark theatre, someone yells “(my surname) is that you?!" After I’d’ been in Chicago for a few years, I went to see/hear David Sedaris do a reading. It was a fundraiser for our local Public Radio station. It was also recorder for future listening. Some months after, I get a call from a friend out of the blue, who asked if I’d been at said reading. I replied, “Yes”, somewhat perplexed. “I knew it! I was just listening to it on the radio, and I knew that was your laugh that I heard!” So, apparently my laugh gives me away.

Certain bus and train lines of CTA (Chicago Transit Authority) are known for the patrons who frequent them. A former columnist for one of Chicago’s Gay weekly magazines once referred to the Clark Street #22 bus as “The Felini Express” for the menagerie of freaks and nuts who seemed to always be on every bus. They’re the people who talk to themselves—loudly; or they may look like a close facsimile of the uni-bomber. You get the idea. They are the people you move away from.

This bus is one of the lines that I live close to and use with some frequency. In fact, I was on this bus on Saturday. Friday night, I was at Unabridged Books, (my favorite bookstore in Chicago) and bought Marc Acito’s new book, Attack of the Theatre People”. It’s funny. It’s very funny. I was reading it Saturday on my ride home on the Felini Express. The bus was full—SRO. I manage to score a seat when someone gets off. I pull the book out of my backpack, I read a passage that made a direct hit to my funny bone. I let out resounding chortle. People stared. I buried my face in the book. It happens again. I let loose with a guffaw. The bus is less crowded now. The guy sitting next to me gets up and moves to another seat. I have become one of those people. I have become a Felini Expressite. It’s all Marc’s fault. Laughing has been comodity of short supply for me. I’ve not been laughing much lately. It felt good—even if it's caused me to join the ranks of the Felini Express People.

Don’t ask me what made me laugh so hard. Go buy the book and find out for yourself. Support your independent bookstore and put Marc’s book on the charts.

Post Script--Tonight (Tuesday) I was transferring trains (EL) coming home from work. I get on the crowded train--SRO. I'm standing near the doorway, holding the bar in one hand, and Attack of the Theatre People in the other. A young, hip woman who was next to/behind me notices the book, and asks, "Have you read his first book? IT was hillarious!" I tell her, "No, this is my first. But it's causing me to have outbursts of laughter on the CTA." She tells me she's going to have go get this one, and tells me to get the first book.