48 Hours and 4 Book Stores

That's the theme of the past two days. I've been all over the city looking at bookstores of all sorts. Yesterday morning on the way to find Intelligentsia Coffee I stopped by a used bookstore for a moment, and happened upon a first-edition copy of Dirk Gentley's Holistic Detective Agency for only eight dollars. I expressed my excitement to the owner, the sort of sagely fellow who spends his days tending to the store collection as the store's sole employee. He's the first bit of familiarity I've seen here outside the apartment where I'm staying. Every city has at least one of these guys.

I hit a couple of comic shops after that; Chicago Comics up toward Wrigley and Graham Cracker's downtown. Two shops in one day and it wasn't even Wednesday. My goal was to find locally produced comics, which I did. Some are cheaply produced photocopy and construction paper jobs with high school level characters and simplistic, often gonzo stories for the author to demonstrate an inflated sense of originality. Many seem to want to be the next Harvey Pekar or R. Crumb, but lack the patience to learn the art craft or stop to appreciate the mundane aspects of the real life humor they attempt. That's my read, anyway. A more well-informed opinion would require slogging through some truly horrendous bargain-bin dreck, so for the sake of time and standards, I choose to remain willfully uneducated. However, I did pick up some locally crafted gems. One, a hand bound history of the inventor of the word "robot" narrated by a small toy robot, is downright charming. I also picked up two issues of "Deterrent Comics," a series modeled loosely after the old golden age comics. Along the way, I bought a few other comics that aren't available outside of major cities.

Friday night I went down to Wrigleyville to the Cubby Bear, a bar and venue hosting a trio of tribute bands with a dead rock star theme. The three bands were versions of Nirvana, The Jimi Hendrix Experience, and The Doors. It seemed odd to be seeing this show in a Cubs themed bar, but it occurred to me that the three bands represented hadn't had a hit in over a decade and were all dead before October, so perhaps the venue was fitting. I got there in time to See most of "Nirvana," and I was impressed at the level of authenticity, right down to "Krist Novaselic's" vintage L7 shirt. The lead, "Kurt," had an exuberance that came through between songs, whereas the original was a rather unlikely frontman. Also, to his credit, the drummer had the look and the style of drummer Dave Grohl extremely well. For the next two groups, all that really mattered was that the frontmen got it right. The "Hendrix" was a great guitar player, even in the afro wig and velvet pants. The third act's "Jim Morrison" sort of looked the part, had Morrison been one to get regular healthy meals not consisting of heavy narcotics. He sounded the part, though, as did the band. My only expectation for each band was that they play my favorite works by each respective band, one song each. For the record, they did: Territorial Pissings (Nirvana); The Star-Spangled Banner followed by Purple Haze (Hendrix); and LA Woman (Doors), respectively. The thing about a tribute show like this is that it invites the crowd to sing along. At most concerts this is a faux-pas, as you are there to hear the original auteur. This show was all about the collective appreciation of the bands impersonated. A more pretentious and less tired blogger might even make a comparison to Greek theatre with actors play gods by donning masks and acting in a recognizably deitific manner. "Hendrix" played a solo with his teeth.

Today we all took a walk down to the neighborhood Tower Records to peruse the store-closing sale, part of the wider chain shutdown. I don't mind seeing another overpriced corporate music store close, but I'm not above buying discounted merchandise. I picked up Chulahoma, a short album of blues covers by the Black Keys. Elsewhere, at a local music store I found a few singles by the Black Keys and Pearl Jam, and the UK import Disarm single by the Smashing Pumpkins, the one with a ton of live and rare material- most of which I'd never seen on even the old music pirate networks. This was one of the singles my old roommates used to mention almost reverentially, as if it only existed in rumor.

I ate dinner at a pizza-by-the-slice place and set out to take the el to a stop by Quimby's Bookstore. The bus system is often a better way to travel the city, but I've been operating under the notion that the el is both transportation and a landmark. In the days before pdf maps of the city transit system, during the Roman empire, an easy way to find a city was to find the gigantic aqueduct system and follow it by the downward slope. Here in modern times, all tracks lead to the Loop, so I use the el for nearly everything. Tonight that backfired. There were no southbound trains stopping at my station or the one immediately north. The trains could go by, sure, but not stop on the track near the platform due to some construction. I ended up taking the scenic route to a red line stop that would take me to a blue stop where I could switch to go in the right direction. My goal was to make it to a reading by an author I don't even remember anymore at Quimby's at 7:00. After numerous stops, transfers, and waits, I was on the red line at 8:00 when the train stopped dead in an underground section downtown.

Ah, the red line. I shared my tale of misfortune with Michelle, who then informed me that the red line breaks down all the time and it has the most crazy people. One such nut was sitting near me on the red tonight. When I sat down, she was furiously scribbling in a notebook with about eight lines of letters titled, I believe, "Work (world?) Poems." She muttered to herself and anyone within earshot trying to find the right word, settling on "top-flight." So pleased with this word choice was she, that she began jabbering into a dead cellphone held upside down to the side of her head. She then tired of writing, stuffed her spiral bound notebook into a purse, and began singing the chorus of Michael Jackson's "You are Not Alone," from one of the Free Willy movies. The first line was from the song, the second was probably her own, as Jackson has proven capable of fitting lyrics to music. It was about then that the train slowed and halted in the tunnel. Nothing out of the ordinary- trains pause to wait for the next train to clear the station all the time. Then the train started rolling backwards as if the brakes hadn't engaged. Then the lights went out, save for the lights above the doors. The lady started repeating the song over and over, louder each time, until she stopped and started calling for single men. By either the Grace of God or the collective will of the other passengers, the lights came on and the train moved forward.

By this time, I was irritated at missing the author and determined to find Quimby's, closed or not, even just to touch the door and say I had been there. It was still open, so I went in and bought a few local comics. The store had an assortment of odd books and art on the walls, all the sort of things other stores don't carry. A city this size can support this sort of niche, and while not everything in the store is top-quality merchandise, the city is a better place for having a store like this.

In spite of my ordeal, I managed to drag my weary bones into a coffee shop for a huge slice of dense-as-lead chocolate spice cake. The ride home was pleasant and direct.

Rain and Train Delays

Today was a bit of a wash, all things considered. I traveled a couple miles south to see the area between Depaul and the city, and ended up walking around an area full of homogeneous retail stores in hopes of finding something interesting. The most I found was Peets Coffee, a national chain with far better coffee than Starbucks(better, as in they don't roast it until the acid could melt the brake pads off a Buick). Today's Red Eye poll had the local Intelligentsia Coffee ranked above Peets, and everybody says it's great, so Tomorrow I may have to seek one out. I also plan to get down to the University of Chicago to see an art gallery I read about somewhere, but that may be next week.

The trains have been delayed due to construction on the tracks I use to get to the loop, and there was a fire on Tuesday in a building next to the tracks that's choked up one of the busiest areas in the system. I carry a book in my jacket to read during the delays now- score one for dead tree media.

I've been thinking about Fort Wayne as I walk around this city and explore the kinds of establishments so many in my hometown yearn for. Fort Wayne has two great used bookstores, this city has dozens. Fort Wayne has a handful of great little bars and venues, this city has scores. I spent my whole undergrad with small town expatriates who spent much time comparing Fort Wayne with larger cities, and most of them had been to Chicago at some point, so it became the gold standard to a whole crowd of corn-fed hipsters. Now that I'm here, I'm starting to see how one city can have so much happening. The rich culture and thriving independent businesses cater to a population so densely packed around them that the population has taken to high-rises out of necessity. Outward expansion lead to slums, and the whole eastern edge is Lake Michigan, so the past twenty years have seen a return to the city with massive renovations to old buildings to make more housing. There are at least two properties being remodeled between where I am and the El stop down the street, thus the process is ongoing. Vibrant neighborhood culture is the one positive aspect that I can see to overcrowding.

But wait! As I'm typing this, the local TV news is reporting a new outdoor sculpture in Grant Park. Something with giant iron torsos with legs, and lots of 'em. There's my Friday so far, then. To the Bat-poles!

So Many Books

I spent a bit of time online today trying to plan a trip to a used bookstore in Wicker Park, a neighborhood I plan to explore more this week. The RTA website wanted me to take a bus, as this is the quickest way. I've been in the habit of taking the El, though, so I have to explore the neighborhood a bit to find what I want. It's a great way to discover things.

Myopic Books is a great used bookstore, one of the best I've ever seen. Right when I walked in, two large dogs came bounding up to me to say hello, followed by their owner. I handed my bag over to the front desk, and recieved a large laminated ticket labeled "hell weapon," instead of the usual boring numbered chip. To my immediate right, a section of shelves labeled "Geek" caught my attention, a selection of graphic novels, sci-fi, and cultural ephemera books. The general fiction section took up the back of the first floor with much of the second on the second floor landing, and then a third floor had essay anthologies and other smaller categories. The basement was stocked with biographies, humor, and sci-fi. Unfortunately, there were no copies of Douglas Adams's Dirk Gentley's Holistic Detective Agency, an out of print semi-rarity I always look for in used bookstores.

Here's what I did find:

Fun With Milk and Cheese vol. I, by Evan Dorkin: An old indie comic that's supposed to be really funny. I missed it the first time around.

Darwin, Marx, Wagner, by Jaques Barzun: I picked this one up on a whim. It's about how these three were all alive and working at the same time, and how they all redefined their respective fields. If it doesn't grab me, I'm sure Hyde Brothers or White Rabbit will take it.

The Civil War, by Lucan: An epic poem about the Roman civil war, recommended by my brother as a companion to the Rome TV series. I'm picky about translations of old texts, and I like what I read of the Loeb collection version of this, but $5.00 is hard to pass up for this one.

Peace Kills, by P.J. O'Rourke: I saw him speak a few years ago, and he remains the only political writer of any stripe I can tolerate for more than ten pages. The man is funny and, again, the price was right.

So, that's what I ended up with for that trip. The shop seems to have the right idea of how to stay organized, too. A sign above the basement staircase forbids any upstairs books from going downstairs. Several signs on shelves inform patrons that any book found out of order will be priced one dollar higher to be re-shelved. As a former book shelver myself, I appreciate both the store's system of organization and the store's assumption that I can properly re-shelve a book myself. If anyone reading this far into the post ever wants to find this store, just take the blue line from the loop towards O'Hare and get off at Damen, then walk a little way SE down Milwaukee. It's next to the Double Door, yet another famous club here that I was happy to find.

I found a good blues bar within walking distance tonight, Kingston Mines. Sunday-Wednesday, college students can get in free, but the show I saw would have been worth the full $12. The flavor of blues favored here is a bit brighter and faster than the music often associated with the Mississippi Delta area, and both bands could solo like crazy. The venue is split into two rooms, each with a full stage setup, so two bands can set up and be ready to play and the crowd moves from one room to the other as the two bands alternate sets. I look forward to seeing more music here, as there is always something going on at night.

I really don't have a good reason as to why I had never been to the Museum of Contemporary Art before this trip, save for I didn't know where it was. Today was my first visit to the museum itself, where they have a large multi-leveled exhibit about the future of global design. Sustainable design and recyclable materials were the main focus, showing how to ease our energy needs and how to make earth-friendly materials cost-effective. In most cases, this all looks possible. Combinations of wheat, corn, and other organic materials are being formed into plastic-like material that can serve a purpose and then compost easily. This is all well and good, but some of the items on display probably won't fly. Case in point:


There is probably another great leap forward in single-person transportation since the bicycle, but we haven't hit it yet. So far, we have a three-wheeled squash with room for one person under five foot six and a small suitcase. I saw one of these parked in Rome a few years ago, the only one I'm aware of in the wild. The driver presumably isn't too hopeful on finding a breeding partner either.


In the plus column, though, is the $100 laptop. The little yellow bit on the right side is a hand crank to power the battery. It can serve as a wifi relay to other models in the area, and I believe it runs a light-footprint version of Linux. The developers are considering selling a $200 commercial model to people in developed nations, and I'd love to try one out. The idea behind the project is to provide computers, and thus the resources of the internet, to developing countries for a price that can be covered through charity.


Some of the items had this transparent voting box system, like this one next to the genetically modified food example. Five reasons are offered for and against, and each person casts a yellow vote paper in the box they agree with. Given the current trend in organic food, this one isn't really a surprise, but other issues were more evenly split, such as breeding a featherless chicken, or more robust fish stock.

The big question at the end was "Now that we can do anything, what do we want to do?" More accurately; assume we can do anything, and tackle problems from that vantage point. This is the sort of techno-progressive attitude that I reserve all my optimism for, that given proper guidance, our rapidly advancing technology can be used to better the world. Failing that, maybe we'll just use Myspace to spark the first online political coup in North Korea.

Later on, after a cherry smoothie with some sort of performance-enhancing protein add-in, I wandered to the four-story Borders on Michigan. Large bookstores draw me like like a Catholic to mass, and this store is like Saint Mark's. The overhead speakers announced a book signing with R.A. Salvatore, a sci-fi/fantasy author I've read in the past. I knew he sounded familiar, and not just for the two Star Wars books he's written. It only dawned on me after he mentioned the company, that he's one third of the top of Green Monster Games, a MMORPG start-up in Boston with Todd McFarlane and Red Sox pitcher Curt Schilling. Salvatore is the creative director for their forthcoming product, which is currently in the early stages of development. He described his job as writing a template instead of a story for the game, as it is up to the player to assemble the story. This seems to be in line with his writing process, as he explained later that he writes a continuous story through his books, with no idea where the story will lead to next save for his desire to explore different ideas, characters, and locations. All he does is give enough bits of information so the reader can piece together the story based on their notions of the character. He also had an anecdote about having to incorporate a character from another author's book series, a character with several gadgets that had been added over the course of a dozen or so books. Instead of slogging through all the backstory when he needed to be writing, he anonymously posted on a message board asking for an inventory of the gadgets he'd have to know about. In two days time, he had a complete descriptive list with book and page citations compiled from internet fans.

Off topic, but funny- I was walking home last night after a quick trip to get something to drink at the drugstore on the corner, and there was a young woman walking in front of me. Nothing out of the ordinary in this neighborhood, until a guy came around a corner, recognized her, and approached her to initiate conversation. She kept walking, giving him the finger for ten seconds solid without saying anything. He seemed to know full well why he deserved this, and walked sheepishly beside her for at least another block before I turned and crossed the street. I don't know what he did, but it didn't warrant a mention in this morning's Tribune, so it can't have been that bad.

Dork: noun, Loyal: adjective

Normally the adjective describes the noun, but here it could go either way. Let me explain:

Monday is the universal day of blah in any city, so my search for creative novelty in Chicago online and in the papers was turning up nada last night. On a whim, I checked the Northwestern University site calendar, and found a guest lecture posted for today at 4:30- "The Network is the Actor on the Stage of History." I'm pretty sure that this is the lecture I saw, as it sort of fits the title, but more on that in a moment. I took the purple express train north to the edge of the Northwestern campus, and from there relied on dead reckoning to find the right building on the right street. The campus is nice- not Kenyon nice, but pretty good. The front door of the humanities lecture hall had a stern warning to trespassers, and while this may not have applied to me entirely, I couldn't help but feel that I was crashing the lecture. Hence the title of this post.

The lecture was about social networks of geniuses in history and the following generations. The lecturer, Dr. Randall Collins, used ancient Greek philosophers and German philosophers as his examples, and while I know nearly nothing about either, I got the gist of it. Essentially, a great mind like Socrates is remembered as being in the center of a great movement, when in reality he was one of many intellectuals working on developing what came to be the foundation of modern philosophy. He then gained importance in philosophy as an individual when future generations singled him out as being most important, as they measured ideas against his. This phenomena is visible in other creative networks in history as well.

He also talked about strong ties and weak ties in social networks. Creative intellectual networks are often, in Dr. Collins's words, "hermetically cultish." Strongly tied individuals work well together, but the network can get rather redundant. Weak ties to acquaintances offer access to other networks. I've seen this at Ball State, with some departments opening up to the idea of interdisciplinary learning while others think the idea is absurd.

I'm starting to look for good blues bars now. The conveniently named House of Blues downtown might have something, but I wonder if it might be a little too commercial for what I'm looking for. Any venue not located in a historic neighborhood may not be what I'm looking for. I'm also waiting for an excuse to go back to the Hothouse- it seems like it would get good unique music.

One week in

Resfest was great. Today they showed a ten year retrospective of the festival's best videos since the beginning, and a collection of Radiohead videos directed by past festival-featured directors. The very first video was one of my longtime favorites, Street Spirit. There were several I had never seen, including one from Thom Yorke's solo album. I think I've seen at least twenty videos altogether today, so I'm fairly overloaded.

There was an after party at a club a couple of miles away, so I took a couple trains to get down the street and walked a block, nearly missing the Lilliputian club sign above Sonotheque, a video/tecno club that by all rights, I had no business being in. As I presented my festival ticket stub to the doorman, I felt like George Costanza using a picture of his pretend model girlfriend to gain access to an exclusive hangout for beautiful people. Picture the inside of a pencil sharpener designed by a Swedish hipster, and add thumping techno music and a bar. A bearded fellow at the bar beckoned to me by way of the person next to him after he noticed me standing there admiring the video projector. I introduced myself, he gave the customary double-check that I actually said my name was "Loyal," and that was most of the exchange. He introduced me to the co-founders of Resfest, a 16mm enthusiast and a graphic designer, and I explained who I am and what I study. They seemed to get it pretty well, and the subject turned to hypertext narrative and video. They seemed to agree that interactive narrative didn't really work as advertised. I'm not the strongest advocate for nonlinear story (I'm dubious of it at best), so I offered no rebuttal. I left after about thirty minutes in order to catch the brown line in time.