Ambitious outsiders

A far more polished version of this post exists this morning over on my Life & Style community manager blog on ChicagoNow. Oh yes, did I mention? I’m writing that blog, too. Anyway, the post, yes…

Highlights: Oprah is taping on Michigan Avenue, I work in the Tribune Tower, which is also on Michigan Ave., insanity is expected, as I suspected immediately, but really knew once I saw these in clumps up and down the streets last week:

I’m going to go ahead and plan on bringing my lunch that day. Probably my dinner, too. I don’t see dashing across the street to grab a sandwich being a terribly plausible plan that day.

I would go out tonight, but I haven’t got a stitch to wear

Oh mercy, I just can’t say no to hats. Especially funny hats, as we might recall courtesy Thanksgiving 2006 and recent Target adventures. (Really, I have ambitions to bring hats back to popular fashion for women, but that is a conversation for another day.)

Tim Jahn’s speedy camera skillz + rooftop party at the Tribune Tower + me all hopped up on orange soda + the introduction of a certain designer’s very festive Razorbacks hat = this.

Step up to the microphone: Printers Row Lit Fest edition

Printers Row Lit Fest was marvelous. Details to follow.

Walk right up to the microphone and name all the things that you love

Today and tomorrow, for Chicago Subtext, I’ll be streaming live author interviews from the Colonel Tribune/ChicagoNow table at Chicago Tribune Printers Row Lit Fest.

http://www.ustream.tv/flash/live/773882

Watch here or on Chicago Subtext’s UStream channel, where you an also find a schedule (though, there are more than a few surprise interviews going to pop up, so keep an eye on my Twitter stream, too, for up-to-the-minute info.).

Also, I’ll be asking folks to cast their vote for the classic Chicago novel and, on Sunday, I will be speaking as a panelist on the Page to Pixel panel on Sunday at 3:15pm with Christopher Booker, Owen Youngman and David Kipen, moderatored by Chicago Tribune Magazine Editor and Books Editor, Elizabeth Taylor.

And, I’ll most assuredly have a camera with me and will be doing several special Printers Row editions of my So Far Review series.

So, do stop by our table on S. Dearborn and say hello!

GOLDEN LIGHTS: PIlcrow Lit Fest

Ooooookay. I’ve slept some. Time to share all about Pilcrow Lit Fest. I’m going to try not to forget anything, but it might take me a few posts to get it all down.

We talked about Thursday night’s Fixx Reading Series already, at least in photos. So, let’s start with Friday. Friday, I hung out at Fixx Coffee Bar, also known as Pilcrow HQ, for the weekend. Lynn Brewer from Cliterature Journal was the first participant to arrive to collect her swag bag, so we got a little extra time to chat. I noticed a tattoo peeking out from under her top, and once bared, I realized it was the end of Sylvia Plath’s Lady Lazarus. Naturally, we had to pose for this pic of her Plath and my typewriter.

Later, Leah came straight from her trip to Canada (luggage in hand and all) and did the afternoon info table/swag bag shift so I could dash out, and pick up the food for Saturday night’s New Orleans Public Library/Rebuilt Books auction. Speaking of– Mary Hogan from the NOPL Foundation came up for the event to help with the heavy lifting and I adore her to death.

All set, everyone made their way to their respective home bases, only to re-emerge a short time later, first at The Dollar Store Show, (I personally missed it, only because packing up swag bags takes time, you see), then at Matilda’s/babyATLAS for the opening night party, with many pics by the talented Jeff Smith from that evening right here. Leah took this pic, of yours truly chatting it up with James Stegall (guy in hat, the honcho of So New Publishing, and baby daddy of my Three Fallen Women) and Steve Himmer of One Pot Meal.

Saturday brought an early start, as I was on the stoop of Fixx Coffee Bar well before opening when Gary (can I possibly ever say thank you enough to Gary and Laura– owners of the Fixx— for letting me take over their place of biznass for the weekend? Probably not.) arrived. I set up the swag/info table, fine-tuned the volunteer schedule with Leah, then she and I set to preparing both Trader Todd’s and Matilda’s for panels. It was this stretch of morning I’d most fretted about, most planned and most visualized. All we had to do was get it up and running, but do it behind schedule or forget something and the whole day would be wonky, as everything was to run back-to-back all day and evening.

But, it wasn’t behind schedule or wonky in the least. The only, and I mean only, snag was a last-minute sprint I did from Trader Todd’s to Matilda’s to grab a tabletop microphone stand three minutes before the first panel. And, hello, that’s nothing.

The panels, the two workshops and the two staged readings of plays by the ensemble of Blindfaith Theatre Company all went wonderfully. I tiptoed between panels all morning, trying to catch a little of everything. Click through all of these pages on flickr for yourself and just see how happy everyone looks. All day the feedback was positive, people were smiling, the crowds were big, the weather was gorgeous and — I say this next comment as one who doesn’t believe in perfection– it was all absolutely perfect.

At six, after a full day of panels in two locations firing off at the top of every hour since ten a.m., Ben Tanzer and several out-of-towners gathered at the Fixx for another installation of one of his terribly fun podcasts, while Leah and I scurried around with our wonderful volunteers to turn the Fixx into the Mardi Gras-tastic NOLA party, as Leticia Gomes took it all in by camera, as Phil Gomes made a rad video in mere minutes because he’s that good. (Poor man, I was a little under-caffeinated when he found me; there were several outtakes.) TheFemGeek (Tiffany Tate) and Sawyer Lahr of Unscene Chicago were on hand all weekend, and Saturday was no exception— they caught everything and we’re all terribly excited to see their footage as well.

(Look at that buffet. All of those years of working for my Dad in the restaurant industry pays off when it comes time to throw a party, if I may toot my own horn for a moment.) By the by, big thank you to Nebraska Summer Writers’ Conference for sponsoring this fabulous party’s bites and sips.

And thank you Bubs, for this unexpected treat.

And then, we started to pull out all of the Rebuilt Books we’d gathered from various authors. I can’t possibly show them all, but Laurel Snyder’s light switches were a big hit, Laura Van Prooyen’s Inkblot and Altar string of lights and Peter Davis’ Hitler Turtle were very popular with the bidders (going to Gary & Laura Hartel of Fixx Coffee Bar and Suzy T. of Book Cellar, respectively), (ha, wait, here’s a close-up of the Hitler Turtle) several people made secret compartments in their books– Timothy Schaffert filling his book with antique doll parts, Kelly McMasters placing kryptonite in hers, Tim Hall plastering his book shut and creating a slot for an all-digital version of his book and video of him plastering the book, Willy Blackmore took Jennifer Banash’s Hollywoodland and places two small blue square books inside hollow-out sections containing both fairy tales and porn, and Jonathan Messinger made a sneaky iPod case in his hollowed-out book, appropriately, Hiding Out. Zach Dodson produced gorgeous posters from his book boring boring boring boring boring boring boring, Ben Tanzer’s kid made a perfect abstract canvass from Ben’s novel Lucky Man, Jackie Corley shredded a Word Riot and incorporated the shreds into a collage of flames, Jill Alexander Essbaum made a tiny hotel with tiny sex dollies out of her book Harlot, Larry O. Dean made a spam sandwich out of his I Am Spam poems, and truly, everyone made fabulous things and I was positively delighted by each one. Others gave non-Rebuilt Book items, too. Lookingglass Theatre Company gave several pairs of tickets to their upcoming Nelson Algren show (I must go to this!), Uptown Writers Space gave a two-month membership (Leah and Tamar Fox from Jewcy.com duked it out nicely at auction for that, Tamar prevailed), Nick Hornby gave a page of brainstorm, and Tony Fitzpatrick gave a beautiful piece of art, “Luck”, which I flirted with all weekend.

And, Leah and I took to the stage, and auctioned our butts off as Mary parded auction items around the room, and we had so much fun being goofy and raising all of that dough. But, it wasn’t all giggles— Mary took to the stage and talked NOLA and everyone got misty. A darling young man named Alex R. and his mother walked into the party and handed us a ton of money he collected for NOPL at his Bar Mitzvah (I nearly cried, what a menschy sweet boy) and towards the very end of the auction, Katie Schwartz and Angela Gant took to the stage suddenly. Leah seemed in on the announcement, so I steped aside. K&A gave me the Tony Fitzpatrick artwork they worked so hard to bid so very high for and win and, to my complete shock and welled-up surprise, people clapped and then stood up! Everyone went nuts and it was a moment I won’t soon forget. I can’t believe that happened, and it was a pretty great moment in a very great night.

But, best of all, we made $4,000 as a result of the auction! I’m not kidding. Leah and I counted, had Ted recount, then I screamed and did a little head-thrown-back laugh. Then, to make sure Pilcrow didn’t write a check it couldn’t cash, Bubs (the man is a cop) provided me a police escort to the night-drop at the bank (Read his account of the evening here.) and we presented presented Mary with the giant check.

Without sounding like too big sap, it was one of the best nights I’ve ever seen in my life. The hardest parts of Pilcrow, the parts I fretted about, all worked, people were happy, I was in a room full of writers and publishers and publicists and friends from all around the country and I loved them all, we’d all come together and done such a fun thing and so much good came from it for the libraries in New Orleans.

Not a bad day.

Then, it was Sunday! Sunday’s panels were all fabulous, too and I got to meet a new group of people I’d only previously known over email, for the most part. I loved the Nature 2.0 panel, the Classy Not Assy Panel, the Community V. Solitude Panel, Willy Blackmore’s bookbinding workshop (he made it look so easy that maybe even I can do it) and loved, loved the final panel of the day, Mike Zapata’s living and working in Chicago panel, featuring Mahmoud Saeed among others. Mahmoud Saeed , who won a Pulitzer-equivalent and had two of his novels seized by Baathists officials, who was so wonderfully full of humor and stories and a certain kind modesty, sat on this panel before a now-dwindling audience (small but mighty, small but mighty) on the final panel of the festival and I could have listened to him speak all day. (He’s looking for an Arabic translator for his work, by the by. I know I have at least two readers who are capable of such a task.)

I was also starving. Momma’s Boy (who, hello, kicked ass making everything print/design-related for Pilcrow look so polished and, well, kick ass) and I went and saw Johnny Yen and ate, then returned for the final event, Sunday Salon Chicago’s reading series in celebration of Pilcrow at the Charleston Bar. This is a great bar. Don’t ruin it and bring loads of people, but do go enjoy a cocktail there sometime and pet the bar cat, Fred.

I eventually drank a vodka lemonade and started to fade, found my way home and slept like the dead. I did little but enjoy some post-festival email exchanges and make potato salad on Monday. Yesterday, I hiked six miles with Irish Ho about an hour outside the city. Today, eh, today remains to be seen.

Thank you so much to everyone who helped make Pilcrow such a fun and, dare I say, successful event. I know I for one, was the best kind of tired at the end.

I’m sure I have a few more posts forthcoming about this fabulous weekend, but let’s close for now with the assurance that there will be a next year, and I hope to see all of your smiling faces again then

"THIS TERRIBLE COLD"

Baby Neptune loves the snow, his parents tell me. How hilar is this giant snowsuit on him?

"ICE WATER FOR BLOOD"

Today, a plumber comes. Finally. He bangs on some shit, he rearranges my closet, the yanks the access panel off the back of the closet so he can get a clear shot at the frozen pipes, blowtorches them for maybe two minutes, bangs on them with something, pops his head around the corner as I’m working and goes “no brrroken!” and leaves. Just walks out, gets in his truck and takes off, paying zero mind that I’m speaking to him, asking him about the shower. No, doesn’t matter. Dude leaves. I give him a few, because there is a hardware store nearby so I’m thinking maybe he went there. No. I finally called my landlady, who makes calls, calls me back and, well, needless to say, I don’t have a shower yet again and I’m done. I’m ready to move. Like yesterday. I chatted with a friend today, who armed me with a lot of great information in terms of the specifics of tenants rights and such. I’m ready. There is no reason anyone should plan her day around where she can borrow a shower.

It’s a shame about this place, because it’s a great apartment. For tonight and tomorrow, until the plumber returns tomorrow afternoon, I’ve been granted access to the shower in a vacant apartment two floors above. Weird, but traipsing through my building to shower is better than traipsing through the city to shower. Especially like today when the wind chill was twenty-five below. No. Tonight, I read an email from my friend Globetrekker Katherine who was just in Africa, swimming with whale sharks. Warm. Water. Doesn’t that sounds like the best? Twenty-five below and showerless versus drifting in warm ocean water with whale sharks? Doy.

"PAINT A VULGAR PICTURE"

11pm- Think, I’m so tired, I think I’m actually going to be able to skip the insomnia schtick tonight and get some real sleep. Ahhhh. Write Jewcy post. Scowl at shower that still doesn’t work and be glad I showered at Baby Neptune’s earlier in the day.

Midnight- In bed.

1am- Just barely begin to drift off when I’m jolted awake by WHHHHHPOOM! CLINK CLINK CLINK! Which sounded like the union of a cannon, wrecking ball and construction site. I jump to the window and see not one but three maybe four water main and sewer covers spewing water. I have to admit, it’s kind of a spectacular to watch my street turn into rapids with chunks of ice.

1:20am- Fret that the water has risen so very high and is threatening my car. Contemplate running outside to move car, watch neighbor with the same idea attempt to leap over the water (which has now risen high enough to cover the sidewalks on both sides of the street and is splashing against our buildings) and land in calf-deep ice water. Decide maybe moving car is a bad idea.

1:35am- Watch neighbor parked a few cars ahead of me rush out in wellies to move her very tiny car. She gets a few feets and the car dies and gets towed away. I begin rethinking my plan to let my car stay put. Then, think that maybe letting it sit in high but still-ish water is better than moving it even for a minute through sloshing water and return to thinking moving car is a bad idea. Send out a slew of text messages and Twitter tweets in hopes someone else is awake who can validate this idea I have.

2am- Exchange a few text messages, get my idea validation, watch the pretty snow falling, feel solid in plan to leave car, especially after remembering I’m insured for replacement value, flop back into bed. Reassure cat who has very perker up ears and very wide eyes at this scene. Look out at the snow falling, and though my window is up too high to see the vehicles parked onthe street below, I watch the lights from the CTA, I-DOT, I-DOT snow plows, police, fire, EMT (why?), City of Chicago, tow trucks, reflecting off the snow as it falls and it looks like disco snow and that made me laugh to think about flashing disco snow. Vehicles leave one by one, though the water is still going everywhere and the street looks like a river. Somehow drift off.

3am- Awaken to metal on metal THUNK THUNK THUNK then KA-PEW and there is suddenly water pouring from my shower and tub. Okay! A working shower, sweet. Realize the drainpipe is still frozen, bail this water into the sink, leave it dripping, flop back into bed.

9am- Take an actual shower with hot water in my own shower. Bail water into sink. Sigh.

10am- Realize that a water main broke several blocks north, causing a large area of sidewalk to fall in on itself, cars to fall in and wash away and that my flooded street was the least of the city’s worries. Big time.

"IF THERE’S SOMETHING YOU’D LIKE TO TRY"

Shanah Tovah, how are we all doing this fine evening? I had many adventures today. Let’s make a list. I like lists.

• Writing: My Jewcy post went up about security and hate crime. I thank all of youse for the lovely emails that have come in about my post from a couple of days ago explaining some details about the holiday

• Circumcision: I got a crash course in infant kippot as the bris for Neptune is tomorrow afternoon and finding a kippah for a 4.9 lb. baby is quite an adventure.

• Cars: What started out as an oil change and a fuel injector cleaning fluid quest ended with, yes an oil change and fuel injector cleaning fluid, but also in four new tires.

• Wax/Fetuses: My eyebrow wax lady produced a magazine for me in Vietnamese that showed Chinese families boiling female fetuses and plunking them into placenta soups for men to eat for increased virility.

• Bread/Blisters: I got a big, delicious sample of Leah’s freshly baked challah when I brought by some apples for her afternoon social thing tomorrow, but only after she gave me Band-Aids for the blisters on my heel because I walked from the tire place to her condo, and these places are not so close together, and did so in shoes I did not expect to walk so far in.

• Rosh HaShanah: Post-car stuff, I didn’t get my act together in time for any Rosh HaShanah festivities tonight, but I’ll be there in the morning. Tonight feels autumney and cozy and introspective and just perfect for the occasion. I just love Rosh to bits. I’m so excited for the Shofar in the morning. My rabbi can play the shit out of a shofar. For the 411 on a shofar, please watch the worst cheesiest video ever. How coked out funny is that kid? Speaking of the shofar, it has come to my attention that some speaking-in-tongues fundamentalists have started using them in connection with “feeling the spirit” type events and they get played all cheesebag super-serious and more like French horn. This, of course, makes me a little iddly. See dull-ass creep-out co-opting here and completely creepy hoedown shouting about Jesus here. (Not that there is anything wrong with having JC as your homeboy) Please note, this is not what happens in a synagogue. I would die! It’s more like this, but indoors and with this kind of milling-around chaos and less shrieking.

• Shofar/Angry Cat: If you would like to irritate the shit out of your cat, sit around watching shofar clips on YouTube.