Monday, April 12, 2010

spring gimmicks. thank god.

spring 2.0: 2009 you are not. 

many thanks for that. 

this, it turns out, is a season for high spirits and mesmerizing moustaches, unintentional alliteration and new friends

a long and luscious backyard season under way now with yesterday's sunday having happened as beautifully and jovially as it did. some showed up with brand new facial hairs - brilliant, manly facial hairs; the sort that on some would scream "ATTENTION: I NEED ATTENTION" and on others would eerily whisper "so where do you keep your moisturizer?" but on this one, oozed the justifiable smarm of an all-star second baseman and demanded your rapture and respect. 

i'll never understand how some people just pull off gimmicks. i can't wear a tube sock without being accused of trying too hard. 

others showed up with ipads they didn't bother to share with us despite our unabashed enthusiasm and wanton cravings for toys. 

most just showed up with a case of beer and a great attitude. 
barbecue attitude. 
barbetude (thank you for that, simon. a good portmanteau is hard to find).

we inadvertently (and also, not really) invented a brand new and exciting party game: rock, papers, scissors, slam poetry. (thank you, aforementioned new friend for that.) 
it's as intense and mind-blowing as it sounds and you should probably come over some sunday to learn how to play.

oliver continued to not be dead, but to bark along to a capella renditions of the ice cream truck song. 

the point is this: it's only april and already i'm sitting around wistfully regretting not saving my v-card for chicago spring/summer 2010.

kyle (of recent moustache fame) and i consider the approaching season not so long ago and he says to me, he says, "what's your plan?" 

i was, of course and unsurprisingly, unaware that i ought to have one. but i did get to thinking, not too much and certainly not too hard, about the last year and last spring and maybe lessons or revised approaches and what i come to after at least days maybe weeks of relaxed meditation is this:

i don't need a plan.

i will continue to yoga and bike and cook and love and dance and dance (and that includes softshoe) and write and traipse and with just a little bit of luck and some fine weather, i've faith it'll all (continue to) work out just fine.

so we'll call that chicago 2.0. a renewed faith in and affection for sundays and pals. 

we will spend many sundays on 12th street beach and on various patios with tacos and pitchers. 

we will celebrate our dreadfully accomplished friends. 

we (read: you, not i, for i bronze like a champion) will sustain sunburns and argue unnecessarily about the intersection of whimsical and melodramatic pop, and how that may or mayn't relate to how surreal and awesome it is to see broken social scene and raekwon in one clusterfucked weekend.

we will listen to a lot of the song "english garden."

not even zuckerberg can stop this. 

not this year, zuckerdude. 

1 comment:

Carrie said...

sunday specials 8 days a week.