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

Posts from the “Reclusive Author Clive Javanski” Category

The Serbian Girl with Green Underwear

Posted on August 31, 2016

I met a cute Japanese girl who liked IPAs who said her mom was one of the screaming fans at the famous Cheap Trick at Budokan concert. I walked her out of my apartment where my upstairs neighbor, Miss Weregun, was outside shaking out a hand vacuum. Whatever was coming out of it kept blowing back in her face. She was swearing at it, saying things like “You fuck.” She looked at me and Samira. “Wipe that ass off your face,” she said. I don’t  know who Miss Weregun directed that comment to, it probably could have been correct either way. This was in June. Later that night I went to a festival on Division Street (“Do Division”). It’s one of those fests where…

Once on Valentine’s Day

Posted on February 14, 2016

Once on Valentine’s Day, I kissed a girl when it was so cold outside our lips nearly froze together. Once on Valentine’s Day I kissed  girl in Dublin who looked like the offspring of the band My Bloody Valentine. Once on Valentine’s Day I opened the door to Chicago reclusive author Clive Javanski’s apartment and saw my weird upstairs neighbor Mrs. Weregun pulling off his red sweatpants. Once on Valentine’s Day we had a bonfire at the beach and Clive’s red sweatpants caught on fire. Once on Valentine’s Day I received a Valentine’s card from a girl with a heart on the front and on the inside it read, “Fuck off.” Once on Valentine’s Day I went to a party and the only red…

UK Grief’s Dodgy Winter Kick-Off

Posted on December 27, 2015

On Saturday, Dec. 19, the band UK Grief was walking past the legendary Fireside Bowl in Logan Square on its way to perform at a party celebrating the start of winter. We saw a skinny dude with tight pants, an over-sized winter cap and a goldfish-shaped birthmark under his right eye outside enjoying a cigarette. Reclusive Chicago author Clive Javanski and keyboardist for UK Grief knew him and asked “what the fuck he was doing there” since it was no longer the punk venue it once was. Clive was regaling the smoker about the time he was saw Shellac at Fireside where he passed out in the bathroom and “broke my ass.” A tall blonde girl with red streak in her hair and large…