The Weekend in Foolish Attention

Bits and bytes of the week

PAWTY! We almost closed out the summer park season with the Usher Appreciation Party on Tuesday night. In the Drinking and Writing Theater—the back bar at Haymarket Pub & Brewery—we set up a slideshow of notable moments, Gisela put together a Spotify playlist with every artist we ushered for all summer, there was food, beer, and awards. This was a great way to celebrate the hard work this crew put out this season and I think they all had a good time.

It became clear (and at the insistence of the owners of the place) that the back room is pretty much considered my room. I hosted the Moth on that postage stamp stage for five years, did LitMash, book events, and BUGHOUSE! there and the staff there knows me well. It’s a home away from home and the beer is seriously tasty.

I read a season recap that mentioned every single usher we had, we gave our boss, Jimmy, an honorary FOH Usher award, and Gisela awarded the MVP Usher of the season. Lots of laughs, celebrating, and the GPMF CEO stopped by and commented the next day that it was certainly more impressive than the pizza party on the lawn.

I did get a little sidetracked, though…

THE GREEN MILL SET UP. Gisela apparently decided in July that I needed to meet her friend, A., but was so sure we’d fit together well, she waited until close to the end of the summer to avoid completely throwing me off my game. She invited me to come to the Uptown Poetry Slam at the Green Mill on Sunday to meet her. I arrived early but didn’t know what A. looked like. I texted that I had a booth but how would I know when her friend arrived. “She’s tall AF with tattoos and will probably wear black.” Oops. My type to a tee.

A. walked in and was a sight. Tall, lovely, and dangerous. Wearing black. Like a hurricane in a dress. My beating heart, right?

We had some nice conversation, laughed a lot, and I walked the two of them to a nearby bar so I could get home and record the movie podcast. I invited her to the Usher party because I definitely wanted to see her again but was trying to play it cool. It’s been a long time, gang. When I first got shanghaied in Vegas, I felt I had lost my optimism. Himmel was distraught about it, my mom told me I didn’t blink for two months. I didn’t know if I’d ever feel optimistic again or how I would get it back.

It came back incrementally due in large part to my family and moving back Chicago was the most obvious expression of it. Since, though, I have had almost no interest in women. Not really. The third ex wrote in a review of the book I wrote about the experience that I was destined to be alone forever now and that sounded about right. And for a while I wondered if I’d ever feel that goofy, sweaty excitement of meeting someone new and even daring to want something romantic. As if that part of me was busted, a gear in my wheelhouse with no teeth, destined to spin but grip nothing.

Until…

DON DISTRACTED. A. came to the Usher party. I was outside, grabbing a smoke, and she walked up. She was a vision. As in really, really hot. We talked, she came in, I got her a drink, and while I was the party host and had plenty to attend to and ushers to greet, I kept my eye on her no matter where she was in the room. Wondering. I decided I’d at least get her number and see if I had the sand to call… sometime. Gotta be better than the lunch date with the Republican, amiright?

We circled back to one another several times. Talking. Smiling a lot. Both of us unsure of this but enjoying the experience. At one point, I found her at the front bar and sat down and, because I haven’t been interested in getting to know a woman since Reagan destroyed the air traffic controller union, just looked her in the eyes and told her I was into her. She immediately confided that she was likewise interested the second she saw me in the Green Mill. Like me, she’s very direct and to the point. We spoke for probably 30 minutes but everything around me faded into a Zoom background blur.

I told her she scared the shit out of me but that, instead of reacting to the fear, I would approach my desire to avoid hurt with curiosity rather than panic. I like her. A lot. It may turn into something good or not. Not the point. The moment demonstrated that the busted gear wasn’t busted at all. I expect everything because that’s the only way to approach life. I didn’t expect I’d ever feel that scent of possibility again. It’s very nice.

No. Calm down. I’m not going off the rails. Not leaping into a very familiar void. Just having some fun. If this dries up tomorrow, I’ll be fine. This was just an unexpected feeling I thought I had lost. A. reminded me I hadn’t. Lovely.

And so, I’ll change it up. The definition of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. I’ll take it slow. Find some gear in between sleeping and 150 mph. I have plenty to do here in Chicago and it ain’t waiting. And I have different results than before so I think that’s significant. No marriage, just someone to have fun with, learn from, and enjoy a bit of romance.

JIMMY HOFFA REGRETTED BACKING KENNEDY. The International Brotherhood of Teamsters won't endorse a presidential candidate this cycle, the union's General Executive Board decided Wednesday.

An electronic poll found that 59.6% of members support Trump, while 34% support Harris. The poll, which the union said was independently managed by BallotPoint Election Services, launched after President Biden withdrew from the race.

A phone poll, conducted by Lake Research Partners for the Teamsters, found 58% of members supporting Trump and 31% supporting Harris. The poll was conducted Sept. 9-15, per the union.

Well, that sucks. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised but damn.

HAVE I MENTIONED? Free beeeeeeeeeeer.

NATIONAL WHAT DAY? Apparently, Wednesday was National Cheeseburger Day. WTF? Why have a whole day for a cheeseburger? We’d eat cheeseburgers whether it has a day or not. For me, I’m just looking for National Cheese Week—no burger needed.

THE REAL ELECTION 2024 QUESTION. How many more assassination or assassination adjacent attempts on Trump will tip the scales fully in his corner? I’m not the first was a fake. He was legit shot in the ear but then Kamala took all his news cycle. Then we get the fucking nutjob in the bushes while he plays golf? Hmmmm…

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It’s been a thoroughly invigorating week, friends. Next week, I might have a job secured for the fall and I’ll be spending it with my magnificent family, celebrating both mom & dad as we do the dual birthdays!

Live it up!