I mean, it's not like all I do is walk around my neighborhood looking for depressing signs of gentrification and upper-class takeover. They're just really hard to avoid.
53 years! According to my calculations, that means Aiko's Art Materials opened in 1955. That's a Back to the Future year! (a designation that implies either pretty far in the past or just barely in the future.)
I always wish I knew more about why businesses close. Maybe it's their choice. Maybe the owners are retiring and they don't want anyone else to run it. Maybe the patriarch of the family passed away and the rebellious son didn't want to go into the family business. Or maybe they lost their lease.
I wonder if they thought way back in 1955 that it would end the way it did.
Of course, I also wonder if they thought they'd last 53 years.
Look, I don't claim to know this guy's life. I'm sure he has a perfectly good reason for arranging his headgear the way he does. Maybe he's been burned before when, upon losing a hat, he did not immediately have an auxillary hat to replace it. Perhaps he is the harbinger of a new and utterly ridiculous trend.
At any rate, I think we all have a lot to learn from him. Thanks, guy-with-two-hats*.
*Perhaps he is a mythical creature where if you remove one hat, two more will grow in its place.
I was walking to meet a friend for lunch on Michigan Ave the other week and ran across this store on the ground level of a swanky apartment building.
I find their lack of pretense refreshing. They are openly admitting to the consumer, "When walking into this place of business, you are not buying status or comfort or peace of mind. You are buying things."
A momentous date passed this week and I would be remiss if I did not mention it here. Also, I'm pretty proud of it and so I think you, the Internet, should know.
On Thursday, Rebecca and I celebrated our two-year anniversary. How about that? Two years and we still haven't driven each other crazy. It's got to be some kind of record.
We did it, sweetheart! Happy two-year anniversary!
My run of Second City Conservatory shows ended last Monday the 7th. For those of you who might not know what exactly that means, I'll tell you.
For a little over the past year, I've been a student in the Conservatory, Second City's upper-level training program for improvisation and revue comedy. When you get to Level 5, you start working on your show. Essentially a senior capstone, this show is about 45 minutes of original comedic material written and performed by you and your classmates.
Well, we wrote it. We performed it. And now it's done. If you missed it, you blew it. (Although I do have it forever preserved on a sweet DVD made by our Assistant Director. Thanks, James!)
I was very proud of our final product. I've said it many times before, but I'll keep saying it: I feel amazingly fortunate to have had the classmates and director that I did. Everyone got along really well and helped shape and build on others' ideas . It made for, in my opinion, a pretty darn good show.
It's bittersweet, as most good things that end are. I'll miss my classmates and I'll miss performing with them. But there will be other shows. And last night I had my first free Monday night in quite a few weeks. And it was pretty great.
Besides, to show for all my hard work, I now have this!
That's right, suckers. My family presented me with a diploma that says I have a Masters in Comedic Arts. Take that, idiots who went to law school!
P.S. Thanks to Lindsey for the great YouTube montage.
Okay, people. I've got a few posts stockpiled and some important things to talk about. The end of my Second City show, how awesome I am at Kingdom Hearts II, etc. But all of that will have to wait, because I have a very important announcement.
Attention all creative types in the motion picture industry! All directors, producers, writers, actors, cinematographers, editors and key grips, from the most successful and renowned to the barely born:
You can stop now.
The perfect motion picture has been created.
They will dance for a fee, but devour you for free.
Are you listening, Scorsese? You can stop now. The motion picture has reached its pinnacle and any attempts at surpassing it would be folly.
Well, it's April again. How about that. Time sure is linear in a four-dimensional plane of existence*.
April means a couple things in my neighborhood: Nicer weather and baseball. Actually, I'm sure it means those things in places other than my neighborhood, but living a few blocks from Wrigley Field seems to exacerbate the effects, especially of the latter.
Basically, it's the time of year when stupid people come out and get really stupid in groups. This leads to incidents like stolen car covers and swiped cheese fries**. What I'm saying is that things get both stolen and barfed on.
This of course leads us to the question why I chose to live in the heart of Cubs Village if the fans annoy me so much. The fact that 3 out of the 4 theaters at which I regularly perform are within blocks of my apartment provides a quick answer.
I guess what I am saying here is that I look at baseball season as a 6-month side effect. A side effect that is occasionally good for bits and therefore tolerable. I just wish there was a time when the nice weather and baseball did not immediately coincide.
Here's a report from Opening Day:
Fukudome debut spoiled by Cubs' loss to Brewers
When Kosuke Fukudome hit a three-run homer off Milwaukee closer Eric Gagne to tie the season opener in the bottom of the ninth inning Monday, fans all over Wrigley Field held up professionally made signs with English words on one side and Japanese on the other.
It was meant to be a two-sided version of the phrase "It's Gonna Happen." But something got lost in translation, and the Japanese side read: "It's An Accident."
I don't think we could have asked for a better start than that.
* My favorite new saying when someone says they can't believe it's (day/month/time of year) already. I'm sure nerds are already crafting their comments to tell me how incorrect I am, but I like saying it. ** A story that I now realize I never shared in this space. This must be rectified soon. Perhaps a theme week is in order. Reminiscings by Tim***. *** Hey, I'm posting again!
This is hardly topical or really even applicable, but I took these pictures a while ago and since the ol' blog is kind of hurting for content at the moment, I thought I'd use them.
I feel like I could dedicate an entire blog to the empty storefronts and failed business ventures of my neighborhood. Rents are high and businesses are hard and so pretty much every week, something you walked by every day has disappeared.
Dennis' Place for Games was just like that. It was a real arcade in a time when real arcades aren't supposed to exist outside of a chain restaurant. And before I give the impression of nostalgia for the establishment, let me also say that it was super sketchy.
These signs are only a small sampling of the posted requirements to enter and inhabit Dennis' Place. Not long after I moved to the city, I noticed the place and thought to myself, "Cool, an arcade near my home." I walked in, took one lap around the place and walked right back out. It was not an inviting, warm or particularly safe-feeling place.
Also, they did not have Silent Scope.
Well, the citizens of Lakeview can rest easy once more. The former home of Dennis' Place for Games now sits vacant, ready to eventually become another weird business.
No, Mgmt. WE are sorry.
The word on the street is that Dennis' Place is the latest victim in Alderman Tom Tunney's "Clean Up Belmont" campaign. If that's the case, then mission partially accomplished.
Still, it always kind of makes me sad to see businesses fail. I'm sure someone started that place with the best of intentions and I'm sure that some people will miss it. When I see an empty storefront, I always wonder what happened to it. I'm sure it's very rarely the choice of the renter to shut down.
One storefront on Clark Street has been about 4 or 5 different things in the 2 years I've lived here. I vividly remember seeing a young girl, maybe college-age, painting her heart out and making it into a cute little accessories shop that I'm sure she had been dreaming of opening for a long time.
It lasted maybe 3 months.
It's a head shop now. And inexplicably, those never close.
I've never been much for chain letters or any sort of 'pass-it-along' type endeavor, but this isn't threatening to kill me or ruin my life, so I'll do it. Also, Lynette told me too and I can't let her down. I mean, we cohosted 'Powdered Toast of the Town' on KDCS. That kind of bond can't be broken or denied.
Here's the game I'm apparently playing: 123 Meme Rules: (1) Pick up the nearest book of 123 pages or more. No cheating! (2) Turn to page 123. (3) Find the first 5 sentences. (4) Post the next 3 sentences. (5) Tag 5 people.
As you can see by the accompanying picture, I'm in a bit of a Klosterman phase at the moment. So this is from Chuck Klosterman IV: A Decade of Curious People and Dangerous Ideas.
"Bats Day began in 1998. At the time, it was just an excuse to be weird. A few regulars from Hollywood goth clubs like Helter Skelter and Perversion decided to drop acid and walk around Disneyland on a summer afternoon."
A strangely coherent set of sentences from an excellent article.
I'll tag my brother, Matt Larsen, Scott, Tara and Emeric, just because I want to see what kind of boring legal crap he'll have to write.
Hooray for silly Internet games that lead to easy blog posts!
In slightly more predictable news, Tim Ryder was knocked out of his workplace's ping pong tournament in the second round by a fellow Account Coordinator.
After the defeat, Ryder was observed to be shaking his head and muttering, "Yeah...this feels about right."
In slightly more optimistic news, my Second City Conservatory classmates and I have started our run of Level 5 shows. Our first one was unfortunately canceled due to low attendance, but we had plenty of people this week and so got to put up our first show, the highlights of which you can see in the above video, lovingly shot and edited by our own Lindsey. Well done there.
Of course, wouldn't you know that our director got sick just in time to miss our first real set, so we can't get any notes on it. That's a bummer.
But I'm really happy of the stuff we're putting up and proud of the work I've done with this class as a whole. I feel really fortunate to have the classmates I do, especially when hearing other people's horror stories about the weird dude who threatens to kill you in every scene.
It's also been my honor to teach my classmates everything I know about LARPing, which is apparently a lot. Or at least a lot more than you might expect. (You can see the scene where this comes into play briefly in the video. You'll know it because I'm holding a yellow foam sword that is actually a child's pool toy.)
We've only just begun, so please feel free to come check out the show! Every Monday night until the end of March. 8:00 (be there by 7:45 for tickets, which are only $5) at Second City etc in Piper's Alley (North and Wells).
And yes, I am getting a lap dance in one of the scenes. Calm down. It's just pretend.
I finally got around to watching the series finale of Extras this weekend. Rebecca got me Series 2 for Christmas and I wanted to rewatch it to refresh my memory.
I could lie and say that I watched the finale On Demand or something but the fact is that I downloaded it the day after it came out. It's just been sitting on my hard drive since then. Whatever, I'll buy it on DVD eventually. Calm down, HBO.
Bottom line: it's brilliant. Hilarious and heartbreaking. And further proof that some of the best comedies (or at least the most satisfying) are very nearly dramas. Yes, I did cry at one bit. And that's saying something - I'm not a big crier.
Sadly, as good as it was, it had the ultimate effect of being somewhat discouraging. I must have sat on my bed for at least 10 or 15 minutes after it ended, thinking, "I could go my entire life and never create something this good."
After almost 2 years of being comedy nomads, ComedySportz finally has a home.
Next Friday is our first official performance in our brand new theater located at 929 W. Belmont. It's a gorgeous space with a great stage, new lights and sound, a bar out in the lobby and a box office at street level. Of course, it's also three blocks from my apartment, so it could be crap and I'd still love it. But it's not. It's amazing.
It's strange - I only got to play in the space on Halsted for about a month after I was hired. Then it was torn down to make condos (a project that has remained insultingly incomplete, last I checked). So for the majority of my ComedySportz career, we've been 'on the road,' setting up shop in other people's houses, never quite getting comfortable with where we were. It'll almost be more weird to perform in a space that's expressly ours.
I've already had a couple shows in the new space - one really fun and great, one kind of weird and not so great. So it's not a magic cure-all for shows and it's not something I'm quite used to yet.
In what many commentators are calling 'a major upset,' Tim Ryder won his first round match against a top-seeded player in the 2008 Paddle Royale yesterday.
Post-victory, Ryder was described by onlookers as 'bewildered.'
For Christmas, in lieu of a gift or a bonus, a couple of our higher-ups purchased two llamas* for impoverished workers in Central America. I thought this was actually pretty cool, as I'm doing okay but I bet those guys really appreciated the llama.
Also, they named one of the llama* Dolly. Dolly Llama.
We're a creative bunch around here.
To go in tandem with the gift, an award was instituted: The Dolly Llama Award. To be awarded to the employee who has been working the hardest under tough conditions. Also the one who's been eating the worst and spitting a lot? I wasn't entirely clear on the criteria.
Anyway, I was the inaugural recipient.
I won the traveling trophy you see above. It's very soft and my boss had to go all the way to the zoo to find a stuffed llama, so I'm pretty proud of it.
It was supposed to be a monthly award. It's February and no one has tried to take it away. I don't plan on reminding anyone.
*Plural of llama - llama or llamas**? Discuss. **Lorenzo Lamas?
When we reorganized the office last year, I switched floors and also cubicles. I took the opportunity to redecorate or, more accurately, refrain from putting my old decorations back up.
Instead, I opted for these two nature shots I found in a stack of old documents a while back. So now instead of a seizure-inducing array of magazine clippings, ads and trinkets adorning my walls, I have a much more austere, almost zen-like design scheme. The pictures are situated above my computer screen in my direct line of sight.
Some days, I completely forget to even look at them.
There are many exciting things happening nowadays, but they have nothing to do with my cubicle decorations, so they will have to wait.
Last week I was informed that I had been placed on a Harold team at iO. These teams are the performing units of the theater and getting picked to be on one is pretty exciting. With the sheer number of students that go through the iO Training Center, it's difficult to stand out, which makes this a real honor.
I know a couple of my teammates from previous levels and am excited to work with them again. And I'm looking forward to getting to know the rest of the team.
The name of the team is currently 'Audacity of Hope,' which discerning readers may recognize as the title of one of Barack Obama's books. Although it's pretty cheesy, I do kind of like it. However, these assigned names are usually changed very quickly.
Reactions from my family:
Mom: So with the iO long form, will the shows be similar to what we saw with your team before? Will we ever “get it?” Love, Mom
I decided in late '07 that one of my New Year's Resolutions would be to write more. I have valiantly followed through on that resolution by not blogging since Christmas.
I am nothing if not resolute.
This writing I speak of will not always take the form of blogging, of course. With my Second City Level 5 show coming up, I will be doing some sketch and perhaps even song writing. And I'd like to continue creatively writing past that. But hopefully this will lend itself to more output on this here blog.
This promise has been made in the past. I am nothing if not mindful of history.
As for the picture, I merely wanted to show you the newest member of the cubicle army. It's Mr. T and he goes all floppy if you press the bottom of his base. It makes me laugh to make Mr. T go all floppy.
Looks like the cubicle army has a new addition! Thanks to my boss, Dwight now has a Michael Scott to serve beside. It's what the holidays are all about, isn't it?
Have I been withholding my writings in a show of support for the striking WGA members? Sure, let's go with that.
However, it stops now. (My withholding, not my support. Stay strong, we're all on the same page, etc.)
Once upon a time, I bought a lamp. It was, of course, from IKEA. I am a twenty-something city dweller, after all. It was a nice little table lamp with a pull chain and cool little glass globule over the bulb. I wish I could find a picture of it, but suffice it to say that it did not look anything like this:
This was the sight that greeted me as I returned home the day we had maids clean our apartment. Having maids come was the second-best decision the apartment has ever made and the best is when we had them clean the first time.
Unfortunately, this time was not so awesome. They tried to work an hour past when Tara told them to stop and also, quite obviously, broke my lamp. However, they made no mention of the incident, left no note and I guess just hoped that I wouldn't notice that my cool lamp had been reduced to a bulb on a stick. I would give them credit for cleaning up the broken glass, but that is their job.
So Tara called to complain, there was a whole rigmarole where she tried to cancel her check but they had already cashed it and a couple days later I walk into my room and see this: Apparently the two maids came back and, having a change of heart but not merely wanting to reimburse me for the cost of the lamp, decided to take my decor into their own hands and simply buy me a new one.
They then asked Tara if they could have the old one. If they could have the old one.
It's now the belief of the apartment that they simply were jealous of the lamp, stole the globule and concocted this elaborate scheme to obtain the base and reassemble the lamp later.
So I have a new lamp now. It's okay. The frosted glass is a little much, but it's a touch lamp and that reminds me of old times and grandmothers' houses, so that's fun.
The moral of the story is to not trust maids, but I bet most of you knew that already.
I mean, it's not like all I do is walk around my neighborhood looking for depressing signs of gentrification and upper-class takeover. They're just really hard to avoid.
53 years! According to my calculations, that means Aiko's Art Materials opened in 1955. That's a Back to the Future year! (a designation that implies either pretty far in the past or just barely in the future.)
