July 08, 2003
Defiling (or is it defiled by?) a Chicago Landmark
Boy, it was hot yesterday. and wet.
another day in chicago's hot, wet american summer. (god, I loved that movie!)
Sweating straight through my dress in the wet hot heat, I walked from the train to meet you at your office...where you indulged me with a bit of your building's history before taking me on our (third?) date.
Over dinner you were surprised to discover I'd never been to the Hothouse;amazed that I'd never seen a japanese jazz singer; a little dismayed to be reminded that I hate live music but insistent that you'd make tonight worth my while.
and although watching the dancers and the musicians (and listening to a bass become a wind instrument in an incredible twist of bowing) was more entertaining than I had expected, and that your abilities to take the lead (and keep it) while dancing a most unusual lindy-hop were terribly amusing, the good part of the night was yet to come.
the best part of last night, for me, was sitting on the edge of our most famous fountain, cooling off from the sticky midnight heat by dangling our feet in the water. I wonder how it stays so pristine, despite the lack of patrols at midnight. I'm still marvelling at the depth of Buckingham's pool - I was surprised that we couldn't reach the bottom, even with our long, long legs. Perhaps if we were a bit less shy (how many dates does it take?), we would have stripped our kits off and plunged in - it couldn't have been that deep, could it?
although I don't know why we didn't just jump in - staying dry was impossible, what with lying on the surprisingly plush and springy grass just outside the lip of the fountain, soaking in the occasional rain from above and the steady dampness from below...I hadn't been so tamely reckless and unconcerned about consequences since I was a teenager.
I felt like I was part of a john hughes movie - as if the entire park had been cleared out for us, and the rain was just a bit of moody movie atmosphere.
it was idyllic. perfect. fun.
until I got on the train to go home.
next time, when I'm cast in the role of 'girl lying in the rain by the fountain,' remind me not to wear white. at least, not unless I have a bodyguard to walk me home.
or a jacket to throw over the gals (who were capped with turgid gumdrops of hot wet puckery goodness in the air conditioned car, and quite clearly visible). if I hadn't already had a date for the evening, I certainly would have by the end of that train ride.
Posted by Heather at July 8, 2003 06:20 PM
TrackBack URL for this entry:
did sourbob really dump you?
Posted by: lettie at July 9, 2003 10:38 AM
Who f'ing CARES if he dumped her?
What _I_ want to know is, are there any pictures from that train ride?
Some people need lives. Myself included.
Posted by: MeeM at July 9, 2003 11:29 AM
Once and for all, there is no sourbob. sourbob was a fictional character created as an outlet for a pretty good writer.
whose name is not bob.
sheesh. if I were dumped by a fictional character, I promise, I would write about it.
And if I were to, say, break up with a fictional (or non-fictional) character, I probably wouldn't write about it. Seriously, why would I want to write a non-emotional, boring, barely-there breakup story when I could be writing about nipples and penises?
speaking of which, MeeM, when are you and your gorgeous wife going to invite us all over to see that new house of yours?
Posted by: heather at July 9, 2003 12:19 PM
time to move on, lettie et al. the parties involved have - quite nicely and gracefully at that. as they say, tend 'yer own rat-killin.
Posted by: jocelyn at July 9, 2003 12:43 PM
I swear to god, we'll be unpacked one day. Though I'm somewhat curious/concerned who 'all' you have in mind. . . .
Posted by: MeeeM at July 9, 2003 01:24 PM
oh MeeeeeeeM, I was planning on bringing the cast of puppetry of the penis as my special housewarming gift....
Posted by: heather at July 9, 2003 02:30 PM
I think its to be expected that after constant talking about each other in both your blogs and frequent discussion of your budding romance by each of you in both your blogs, that your readership would not want to be left hanging as to why all of a sudden there's no mention of him. If you wanted people not to inquire, don't get them all interested in the first place, eh?
Posted by: al at July 9, 2003 04:09 PM
I do believe that people shouldn't feel obliged to anyone to answer anything they don't want to at anytime- especially in their own blog. However, Al's point is well-taken that to interest readers with this budding relationship (esp. since I've known the Sour One since high school and he's dropped off the face of the earth) and then it be discontinued kinda sucks. And actually, SourBob was more of a pseudo-name than a fictional character. However, let's give that he was a fictional character. It's not responsible of the writer to drop one of the main characters with no explanation. But, if this is non-fiction (and I believe it is) you have every right to do whatever the hell you want. We read your blog by choice, you owe us nothing.
Posted by: Glovia at July 10, 2003 07:45 AM
By the by, that comment way back when about H. being "dumped" sure had the ring of an ex-wife who still wants to keep ex-husband all for herself, no? I don't know who else would care enough to make that remark.
Posted by: lee at July 11, 2003 02:46 PM
(You are *so* barking up the wrong tree, lee. Back to the black helicopters with you.)
Heather has no responsibility to continue telling you about *anything* let alone what happened between her and her beau. If she wants to drop it, you don't have a choice. It's a weblog, not a democracy.
Posted by: Andrew at July 14, 2003 03:35 PM
I find it difficult to believe that I'm the only one whose life is filled with 'getting to know each other' stories that somehow end up without middles or ends.
I've had dozens of beginnings without ends, this past year. meet, greet, eat, and repeat...until we run out of clever 'date' stories and have to decide to either get 'deeper' or go find someone else to charm the pants off of for a while.
No harm, no foul, no 'where did we go wrong?" moment to ponder.
sometimes, a lady meets a young gentleman who is interesting, smart, sometimes funny, but after countless meals together, she finds she can't spend another moment sitting across from a fella whose chewing sounds like a pack of dobermans slobbering through a packet of pudding.
sometimes a gentleman meets a young lady who is so caught up in her own vanity she forgets that other people can also be funny and purty, sometimes.
sometimes, two people meet and have tons in common, like co-writing weblog entries to entertain themselves and to harmlessly piss off a soon-to-be-ex-spouse, but don't have enough in common to justify a full-fledged, bumpin'-nasties, meetin'-the-mom, plannin'-long-weekends-together relationship.
sometimes a lady meets a hairy purple person from another planet, shaves him, and finds out he's really just Jeff Goldblum...too late to prevent people from seeing them together, but not too late to stop writing before EVERYONE finds out she's been shaving aliens.
sometimes, one side of a relationship sparks, the other side splutters, and the splutter can't quite put out the spark enough to keep the friendship from completely burning out....
none of these situations is anything to inspire me to post, certainly. and, in this case, as nothing in particular happened, there was nothing to inspire a 'nothing happened' post.
and this 'nothing happened' post, if I was planning on writing one, would most certainly be eclipsed in my mind by the delightful beginnings I've been experiencing.
I like beginnings. I'm good at them.
perhaps, like stephen king, or douglas coupland, or even J. K. Rowling, I'm just better at beginnings than I am at endings.
I suppose it wouldn't hurt for me to try, though. it hasn't hurt their sales to end badly.
hmm. I'll let you know if something turns up. if not about sourbob, certainly about the fountain fella. or the skirt-sharoosher. or the boy who makes me forget my toothbrush. or the barbecue-lovin' metrosexual.
here's to hoping there's no ending in sight.
and, for the record, you're right - this is a weblog, not a democracy. I'm happy to see people are reading picture picture, and that they have opinions about what ends up here, but most of what I write comes from what I'm thinking just before I fall asleep at night...no rhyme, no reason, just 'this is what I thought of today'. fiction or nonfiction, it's all me. although if my real-life editor was as tough on me as you-all are, I swear, my book would be published by now.
Posted by: heather at July 15, 2003 03:28 AM