Essays, Interviews, Observations, Pop Culture, Stories, and other Dodginess

Posts by Liffey

UK Grief’s Non-Record Release Party

Posted on April 8, 2015

Or “Angie’s Eye” UK Grief’s Non-Record Release Party was held at Chicago reclusive author (and keyboardist) Clive Javanski’s new Logan Square Apartment. Clive still had his place near Quencher’s Saloon in Bucktown, but purchased this as some kind of investment. “A few years ago a strung-out coke whore was probably giving a two-dollar blow job in this exact spot,” Clive said. “But now we have Diamond-Eyes David Catzman in her place, sipping a Cuba Libre and wearing ruby red boots.” I was never really sure who Catzman knew in our group, but he always showed up for a party. Catzman is what Aidan calls “a bi-guy,” which might explain why he has a gorgeous girlfriend with him yet grabs my ass in the kitchen.…

UK Grief’s St. Pat’s Loft Gig

Posted on March 17, 2015

On Saturday night UK Grief played a St. Pat’s gig at the same Chicago Wicker Park loft of its “first and last gig.” Being Irish, I’m like the vampire that takes Halloween off. It’s amateur hour. All the amateurs come out wearing their “Kiss Me I’m Irish” buttons (who still wears buttons?) and stupid green Leprechaun hats. I did have a Pot ‘o Gold, however – growler of  Half Acre Space IPA that I treated myself. It was the only thing I carried in with me to the loft. We were back. UK Grief – myself, Chicago reclusive author Clive Javanski (keyboards), Aidan (bass), Franz (guitar), and Sasha (percussion and vocals). I didn’t even know we’d be doing this gig as recent as Friday. My…

Happy Birthday Asshole

Posted on March 7, 2015

It was my birthday last week. My friend Aidan brought me a growler of Half Acre Space IPA. “Happy Birthday Asshole,” he said. It was the same thing he said to me in junior high at our Chicago Catholic school after bringing me a bag of unconsecrated hosts from the church sacristy. “Happy Birthday Asshole.” I had just opened the growler when my neighbor, Ms. Weregun, knocked on me door. She had a birthday present for me. It was a cat litter box. “But I don’t have a cat,” I said. “Well get one, asshole,” she said. My first birthday after college an attractive but somewhat worn-looking girl knocked on my apartment door. Underneath her long coat was a cheerleading uniform. She was some…