Minutes (Chicago, in a way)

July 23, 2009

posted by Caroline Picard

  • A man riding his bike down the street. He was middle aged. He was very tan. He wore a wrestling bathing suit, that is the thin, striped fabric, covered his abdomen in the style of a ladies’ bathing suit and carried on by two thin straps that crossed directly over his nipples before scooping down just below the ass-crack on his back. He wore Risky business sunglasses. He was bare foot. He was riding his bike down North Avenue very very fast and as I said, he was very brown, in a tanned sort of way, reminscent of summers on the Island of Capri–summers that I never had, summers in which sexual orientation was banal at best. At the top of his lungs, at this eight am hour, he sang over and over again “I SHOULD BE SO LUCKY LUCKY LUCKY LUCKY” over and over again, only that part of the chorus, accented with his accent, all the way down the street.
  • Craigs list post I heard about in which a middle aged man is looking for an arch nemesis in order to fix his midlife crisis.
  • In front of an old folks’ home in the neighborhood, the police came to put up three signs on various sign posts and fences around the benches by the front door. Each sign was about 12″ x 12″ and printed on each in LARGE BOLD font it says : DO NOT FEED THE PIGEONS POLICE VIOLATION $350 fine. I watched an old man staring at the sign with his myopic eyes. He walked crookedly about, seemingly aimless, until I looked at the ground and noticed a trail of bird seed dribbling out of the cuff of his pants, in the style of Shawshank Redemption.

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