Chicago. Several years ago in a Wicker Park loft. The first and last gig of UK Grief. “You assholes are in a band?” That can’t be the worse thing you hear when you’re getting in a lift with your bandmates and instruments. Especially when it’s from the mouth of Beer Belly Bob, a local nit who apparently left his bar stool at Mickey’s Tavern to be a pain in our ass at our friend’s Wicker Park loft. The “our” is UK Grief, a newly formed band consisting of myself (vocals), Chicago reclusive author Clive Javanski (keyboards), Aidan (bass), Franz (guitar) and Sasha (percussion and vocals – and back from living in Paris for a year). We were having what businesses call a “soft opening.”…
Essays, Interviews, Observations, Pop Culture, Stories, and other Dodginess
Posts from the “Essays/Writing” Category
A Strange Chicago Neighbor Late last summer I was sitting on my porch enjoying a glass of beer when I had to move over and make room for a coffin to get by. That’s right, emerging from the front door of my apartment building was a silver and black casket carried by two muscular, yet feminine-looking boys wearing daisy duke shorts. Now ordinarily you might think this is strange. But not when you live where I do. Not when your neighbor on the third floor of your three flat is Ms. Weregun. The boys loaded the coffin in a truck and said goodbye to Ms. Weregun, who was now standing behind me. “Hey Larry, I got something for you,” she said. “It’s Liffey.” “You…
The girls at my junior high swooned over the athletic boys in their uniforms. The Serbian girl with green socks thought I looked hot in my altar boy vestments. I really just wanted peace and quiet serving as an altar boy my 8th grade year at a Chicago coed Catholic school. But Anka wasn’t about to let that happen. She was a transfer to our school that year and although I didn’t have any classes with her we exchanged glances in the hall a few times. She didn’t look like the rest of the girls but was more attractive than most. I stopped looking at her in the hall because she started giving me dirty looks. I never talked to her until St. Patrick’s…
The Dodgy 