Posts Tagged ‘Chicago’

Feminist Performance Art for Teenagers, Apps for Creative Spirits & My Monthly Mixtape

Ah, yes, the inspiration/round-up post of this week’s sparks, as I call them: things that got me thinking, feeling, thinking again and sometimes dreaming and scheming. Suggestions? What’s got your interest lately? Please let me know in comments below!

Please Let Carrie Bradshaw Go to CBGBs

carolee-schneemann

I’ve written before about my odd fandom for “The Carrie Diaries,” its mix of 80s NYC nostalgia and its refashioning of Carrie Bradshaw as a wide-eyed innocent. It’s a standard issue CW/Josh Schwartz kind of show, but one thing I’m really enjoying are the references to NYC hotspots at the time: Indochine, Mudd Club, all of those mythic venues you read about in social histories of the city. Last week’s episode featured a central scene where Carrie and her good friend Mouse get into real-life storied avant-garde performance space Franklin Furnace and are confronted with feminist performance art! (Basically: a fictional porn star sits on a throne at a gallery, people put money in a jar and she flashes them her hoo-ha. Very Karen Finley-like.)

First: I think it’s just rad that feminist performance art has made it into a mainstream American TV show. I was also amused by the mild satirizing/earnest shoutout of sex-positive “reclaiming your vagina” discourse — as well as a knowing wink to the original SATC show. There’s an odd pleasure in seeing how this show on this very commercial network refracts gritty NYC downtown history — seeing what it elides, distorts and glosses over, but also what it cheers and bestows its affection upon. I’d be happy if Carrie got to CBGBs or Max’s Kansas City, but now it’s kind of my dream that the show makes it into the early 90s and there’s a shoutout to riot grrrl somewhere. Please, someone at the CW, make this happen! You can option my screenplay about 90s zine girls if you want!

I Heart These Apps

I write about technology as a day-job, but it’s taken me forever to get an iPhone, due to my own contrarian nature, my personal laziness and general rather-spend-my-money-on-other-thingsness. But now I have one, and use apps all the time. I review apps for my day job, but I don’t often get to write about them from my personal perspective of a creative lady writer and artist — nor do I get to write about them in my personal voice. But this is my blog, and I can say what I want and how I want! Which is: I’m proud to hype up some apps I’ve found particularly useful and creative-sparking. My favorites right now include WorkFlowy, which is essentially a giant list-making app. It sounds nightmarish but it is not: it’s very simple and elegant and it has made a big difference in organizing my time and things-to-do in such a way that I spend a lot less time doing these things — so I can spend more time actually making work.

Also: in the interest of streamlining digital clutter, I discovered Feedly, which ports my RSS reader to my iPhone. And for fun, Hello Kitty Mahjong wiles away minutes spend otherwise standing in lines that don’t move at various places and times. It is super cute. If you have other apps you use, iPhone brethren, please let me know — I am always interested to know what people use and how.

Monthly Mixtape: Surprisingly Energetic for a Cold January

Usually in January I hunker down with music and treat it more like a security blanket, swaddling my spirit in familiarity and comfort. Maybe it is the sense of possibility that January can have, but this particular month I actually felt myself much more open to new sounds. So here they are, some old, some new, some rediscoveries.

Here is the track listing below:

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A good weekend

It was a weekend full of dearest friends, marathon conversations, yummy dinners (chickpea tagine, still transitioning out of raw foods), fun with public art, perfume buying as a treat to myself for finishing the latest draft of my book (Tocca Cleopatra!), brunch at my favorite place to eat in Chicago (yummy omelet with chanterelles, blew the raw right open in this meal), many rounds of drinks at various bars around Logan Square (if anyone cares, the Owl was packed with very attractive people on a Saturday night) and a kind of mini-reunion with film school friends, where we Godarded out at the Whistler and talked movies, buisness, and writing just like old times, albeit with a bit of seasoned perspective.

But one of my favorite moments was when my sister texted me late Saturday night after finishing reading my book and told me she loved it, it made her cry and that I should be proud of myself for creating a beautiful story. I totally teared up. The only other real bookworm in the family, I was a little scared to show her my book because it’s so intimate, you know? It meant a lot to me; I’m such a softie.

It was “a best, best time”, as my niece would say. And it’s nice to be back after a vagabond weekend, back in my own bed, surrounded by books and lavender tea and fashion magazines.

*****

Photo was taken up underneath the Cloud Gate sculpture by Anish Kapoor in Millenium Park. Do you see me? xo k.

A recommendation, and a day full of breakfasts

This entry is part of my year-end, month-long Reverb 11 blogging project, where I reflect on my year in a series of daily blog posts. Today I am writing on FOOD: What was the best meal/culinary experience you had this year? What made it so great?

I have two answers for this question, one emphasizing the “culinary” and the other the “experience” part of the phrase. For exquisite deliciousness and a reminder of the magic and sensory delight that a beautifully prepared meal can provide, any meal I had this year at Longman & Eagle in Chicago fit the bill. Whether it was a robust hamburger, a delicious corn risotto or one of their unpretentious yet potent cocktails, Longman & Eagle never let me down. Any time someone visited Chicago and was looking for great restaurant recommendations, I always put this gastro-pub at the top of the list, not just for the food (often locally source and impeccably prepared) but for the friendly staff as well. And now I’m telling the world officially: this is a great place to eat in Chicago. Go early, or go late.

My favorite experience around food this year had nothing to do with the quality of it, and much more to do with quantity. It was on my recent trip to London, which was set to take off from O’Hare very early on a Saturday. I do not know why “they” recommend getting to the airport two hours ahead of takeoff, but I was bleary-eyed and up before dawn. But it left me enough time for one of my rare traveling pleasures, which is getting to eat at the Macaroni Grill in Concourse H/K at O’Hare. This is admittedly cheesy, but I have fond memories of eating at Macaroni Grill in college nearly every other week, and there’s no Macaroni Grill near me anymore. (Funny what you get nostalgic for…I also have strange fondness for Fuddruckers because of college, too.) So I had myself a long, leisurely breakfast, egg scramble with coffee, toast, the whole bit, reading a magazine and looking forward to my trip, making my way to the gate just in time to board.

Only my trip was delayed, as flights often are. I waited and waited, along with many others, and then I got hungry again. It was still dreadfully early, so I got…another breakfast. (Lugging a large carry-on always speeds my metabolism.) Nothing big, just some oatmeal and fruit to tide me over till the flight boarded. It was surprisingly delicious, with lots of maple syrup and fruit and nuts and just a bit of cream, too. So good! I was feeling content when we finally boarded, and feeling even better when I realized I had a WHOLE ROW to myself to stretch out in. I read magazines, leafed through books, listened to music, enjoying the time thoroughly and lost in my own happy world — when I was interrupted by the meal service: French toast, sausage, fruit, coffee. Another breakfast? How lucky was I?

The rest of the flight was long but uneventful. I flew into Heathrow, made it through Border Control, got on the tube in the swing of a Saturday night and sat next to a group of Bosnian steampunks. (The best kind, I assure you.) I got to my hotel, and the kind people at reception upgraded me to a double suite — again, how lucky was I? Feeling very grown-up and fortunate, I took a nice, long shower, looked at room service and discovered they had an all-day breakfast. Naturally, that’s what I ordered: poached eggs, fruit, some granola and yogurt. Because what is more comfy than breakfast, especially when it comes on a cart with nice silverware, and you can eat it in a fluffy robe?

I always said breakfast was my favorite meal of the day, because there’s just something so warm and lovely and mellow about a nice morning meal. Nothing makes me happier, foodwise, than a leisurely morning with some great coffee and a really hearty omelet. The only thing perhaps better is a nice stack of pancakes after a late night out. As much as I love a sophisticated gastro-pub (and believe me, I do), my heart will always belong to an all-night diner that serves breakfast at all hours. So 2011 really did fulfill my ultimate culinary fantasy: a day of breakfasts. A very long day of them!