The last time I attempted this was maybe ten years ago, when I found a note in Wicker Park and tried to follow-up on my own. I never did hear how things turned out for Jason/Janeen, but maybe I’ll get lucky this time around… and someone will find my note.
Met up with Justin for some drinks at Small Bar, after work. On my way home, I happened to be walking behind a woman pulling a small wagon behind her. At first, I thought she was just bringing some things to her apartment, but when I walked by her… she asked if I was interested in buying some pastries.
Walking to work, I spotted one of two hand-written notes taped right outside the entrance of New Wave Coffee. The note reads: “ERIC – Thanks for the sweet note you left on my bicycle this past Sunday evening outside of New wave. Meet me for coffee at New Wave this Sunday, 8PM? – A “ridiculously cute” girl with a green bike”
Liz and I picked up our running routine again, and I spotted these guys waiting outside of St. John Berchmans. I thought it would make a good photo, so I stopped and pulled out my phone to grab a few pics.
Right now, it sounds like the only tool that each person has is a hammer. Which they’re using to dislodge every metal pipe they can find. It’s like they’re trying to build the world’s largest xylophone. At some point, I heard the “beep beep” of a truck backing up, and what sounded like a jackhammer (though it also could have been someone dragging a heavy metal pipe over uneven concrete). In addition to the metal clanging and occasional glass breaking, I can also hear the construction guys talking and yelling at one another. About 10 minutes ago, for reasons I can’t quite piece together, I heard one guy yell “MEOW! MEOW! MEOW” in an exaggerated and prolonged fashion, at the top of his lungs.
In our apartment, watching TV is pretty impossible unless we blast the volume – an even then, we have to try to ignore the constant music outside. Headphones work slightly, but the thudding bass still gets through. I think at one point earlier in the afternoon today, our windows were rattling. Imagine a high school kid who just installed $2,000 worth of subwoofers in his car. Now imagine that guy parking at the end of your neighbor’s driveway. Now imagine he hangs out there from noon until 10PM, all weekend.
This time around, we were parked in the first spot on Logan, right at the SW corner of Logan and Sacramento. There’s a stoplight on the corner, along with a big street light – we couldn’t ask for a better location, in terms of lighting and visibility. But for whatever reason, someone decided to give our window a bit of a tap.
I’m a worry-wort by nature, and seeing things like this isn’t really doing me any favors. The ambiguous “It can happen” just comes off as an ominous foreshadowing, and kind of opens the door for just about anything my brain can think of. Earthquakes? Plague of locusts? Bioterrorism? Skrull invasion?
It’s unfortunate that the alley near Milwaukee/Logan tends to get this kind of graffiti. But it’s often a little better than just indiscriminate tagging – as the graffiti almost feels like a conversation: sometimes an accusation, sometimes advice. Although who these words might be between, or who these words might be intended for is kind of a mystery.
Spotted this outside the Logan Square Comfort Station. A great use of the space outside the station, and perfectly positioned to catch the eyes of people walking to work each day.
Walking through the neighborhood around 8:00 PM, Liz and I passed by La Boulangerie – the french bakery and pastry shop at the end of our street. We were walking to go grab a drink and pick up some take-out food… and noticed a small bag of pastries (a bag chock full of tasty croissants), sitting by the door. We decided to grab some on the way back.
On the way to work Monday morning, I happened to look up at the Logan/Milwaukee intersection and spotted a flash of pink. I was able to hand LLiz my umbrella as I fumbled for my camera, wanting to document this odd sight: a car sporting an incredibly large, and incredibly pink moustache on its grill.
Found out that this weekend was the first day of the Logan Square Farmer’s Market. When it’s running, this has been a Sunday tradition for me and Liz. Sometimes we’ll stroll through after a brunch out at Lula Cafe; othertimes, we’ll have a late breakfast made of things we’d grab at a few different booths.
It’s funny how I’ve walked past this stretch of Logan Boulevard countless times, but just noticed this out of the corner of my eye recently. As weathered as this looks, it seems like it’s been here a good while. I wonder how long he’s been hiding, and I also wonder how many of my neighbors even know he’s there.