Gotta catch ‘em all

Dear Diary,

I have spent the past bunch of days at home writing a website and getting acquainted with the inner workings of WordPress and experiencing the joys of conflicting Javascript frameworks and cross-browser testing.

The other night we went to the Indian Town area of Rogers Park and had ourselves a fine dinner on Tucson Bike Lawyer Eric Ryberg’s dime. (Thanks Tucson Bike Lawyer Eric Ryberg!)

For no apparent reason we chose a place called Udupi Palace, which specializes in southern Indian vegetarian food. The waiter must have noticed the question marks in our eyes as we gazed upon the menus because he basically insisted upon what we should eat (which was fine with us because everything one the menu was vegetarian).

The dinner was a wild adventure of new and exciting flavors, each one better than the last. About 3/4 into it Lauren experienced her first ever bout of heartburn. My young, powerful heart, however, prevailed through the curries, dals, chutneys, rasams, meduvadas, and uthappams.

This is what we got (for < $30 total!):

Course 1: Pre-Appetizers

Creamy tea and soup. Mine was super spicy and had leaves in it.

Course 2: Appetizers

Tasty things and metal vessels full of different stuff to dip the things in.

Course 3: The main event

I got a huge fried thing with potatoes in it and Lauren got a dish with more metal vessels full of new stuff, a heap of chickpea-based goodness and some tortilla type things.
Note:  Though charming, our waiter was not the best photographer.

Course 4: Dessert

Flavor balls. Mine was more powerful than Lauren’s, which was a lump of some kind of dairy.
Note how Lauren is visibly wider compared to the first picture.

After dinner we waddled to our bikes and rode down to a hip art space to watch some sort of performance while our bodies tried to figure out how to convert what we had just eaten for dinner into explosive, multifaceted, burning diarrhea. (P.S. Mine was actually solid and didn’t burn that much.)

The play? started with a $20 suggested (pssh. yeah right) donation and ended with a bonfire.

In between there was a maze, cardboard hats, some weird acting, plastic props, projectors, coordinated dances, more weird acting, and some sort of  moral in the end.

There’s Lauren trying to make sense of 2 cups taped together with lights at the bottom. Art?

Maybe I’m just a square.

I shot a video (which took several hours to upload so watch it):

It wasn’t all like this. This Fisherspooner dance came completely out of the blue.

On Tuesday we rode down to the south side* with our new pal/Chicago tour guide John to eat at a Vegetarian soul food restaurant/juice bar operated by Black Hebrew Israelites.

I ate about 2lbs. of convincing BBQ wheat gluten and a bucha fries. I forget what anyone else had.

After dinner we went to the nearby “New Apartment Lounge” – an old dive bar. There was a sign on the door stating “No one under 30 allowed after 11pm”. The bar was all wavy, 80′s style and the walls and ceiling were covered with mirrors. The bartender lady there didn’t seem to like us, me especially, but it wasn’t hate because she did give us microwave popcorn after a we had a few drinks.

The point of us going to this bar was that every week for the past 30 or so years legendary saxophonist Von Freeman plays some improv jazz with a band.

and he did.

He also invited people, including Catherine Whitney from the audience to come up and sing. It was cool.

We rode a red line train all the way back across town to our doorstep.

*Although it has a statistically diverse population. Chicago is very, very segregated and the south side is mostly home to black people.  Lauren and I definitely did not feel completely welcome down yonder. Maybe it was the dude with a tear drop tattoo hanging out of a car asking why we were around there and when and where we were going…or maybe it was the guy who kept yelling “you enslaved us!” after we walked past him.

Alas.

Being unemployed, rotten-toothed and soon to be homeless again has not prevented us from spending nearly ever bit of our money on bikes.

You see, beloved readers, when it comes to bikes, especially those of the touring variety, Lauren and I are akin to Pokemon masters. We have got to catch them all.

So far we’ve aquired:

• 80′s unidentified 53cm Cannondale road bike



• set of “arabesque” Shimano 600 Derailleurs



• early 80′s 63cm hi-tensile Fuji frame (which I sold to a retspih for $80)



• 80′s 63cm Centurion “Elite GT” touring bike (whoo!)



• 80′s 49cm Panasonic “Pro Touring” bike (which has those fancy deer-head deore XT derailleurs and is basically brand new)

Fortunately, like Pokemon, vintage touring bikes will never loose their value and last forever.

Lauren’s love for bikes, good looks, charm and gender have apparently landed her a job as a bike mechanic (!?!?!?)

Hopefully I’ll succeed in becoming a yuppie or at least a dishwasher so I too can pay rent and support this bike addiction. At this rate we will obtain approximately 50 new bikes a year….maybe we’ll start a mid-80′s Japanese touring bike museum. We can barely walk across our apartment now.

P.S.

Got any ideas on what I should call my operation (which will be websites, homemade bicycle accessories and maybe some odd local stuff)? Adjective + Noun?

P.P. S.

Does anyone want to give us a few hundred bucks so I can get a 63cm 1976 Panasonic-made Schwinn Super Le Tour 12.2 and Lauren can get a 86′ Raleigh Kodiak? (We’ll name them after you or something)

-Jar-

Comment!