tuesday hunter and I were left to our own devices as nick was working and joey was doing errands of some sort. so, off to the Art Institute of Chicago (you know, the one from Ferris Bueller’s Day Off). again, we managed to utlize public transportation in a fashion becoming a pair of adults, and the “L” dropped us off a block from the art museum. now, despite the fact that I studied (and lived for a short time) near the J. B. Speed Art Museum, I never actually went it. Oh, and my mother was an art teacher for a while, but that didn’t get me in to an art museum either. so yeah, it was fairly overwhelming. you can look at photographic reproductions of art in books all you want, but that just does not do these paintings justice in the least. Degas mastery of light and shadow are breathtaking to see. Picasso’s “The Old Guitarist” when reproduced on the page is a bland shadow of the true color of the work. I am a big fan of Magritte’s work and they had plenty of his works there, as a number of other surrealists and modern artists. I could go on for days, but I think I’ll keep this short: you need to go. On Tuesdays, ’cause then it’s free. But even on normal days, it’s only $10 and that is a suggested donation. I should point out that non-flash photography is allowed in the Institute, but my forgetful self forget to bring the memory card for my camera.

After 3 hours in the Art Institute, we decided to nab a bite to eat at Potbelly Sandwich Works, so we hopped the train back a couple of stops. Potbelly’s is like a Quizno but with the old-timey flair of Another Place Sandwich Shop in Louisville. The sandwiches were tasty. The root beer cold. Yum.

Now, our next stop requires a little explaining. Hunter had bought issue #2 of Found Magazine (a magazine filled with “found” notes , pictures, letters, etc) along with a couple other ‘zines (hipper, cooler magazines than your mama’s) while at Chicago Comics, and was interested in finding more. Knowing this, I happened to see an ad for a ‘zine distro down on Augusta Boulevard near downtown. Thinking “hey, this would be a cool little side trip”, we decided that would be our next stop. Having had procured directions from the venerable and always trustworthy MapQuest and peeping a CTA map we felt confident. Well, I figured that the CTA’s Green Line trains were the closest alternative, so we got off at the Ashland stop. Well, some many many blocks later we arrive at Loop Distro at 1357 W. Augusta #1. It is apparent that this is, in fact, someones apartment. Thinking that “this is the ‘zine way of life man!”, we checked around. No other doors say #1, and the one that is #1 has photos inexplicably taped all over it. Check the knob — locked. Hmm. Well. Checking the website, it would seem that this joint is really just a distribution point. The ad wasn’t so clear. Ah well. We had an exciting time rolling through “Little Mexico City” anyway.

Turns out the Division Street stop on the Blue Line was far, far, closer to Loop Distro, so we ended up taking that home. I took a nap, because I’m old and walking is tiring.

Hunter contacted his friend Patience and his cousin Jeremy and Nick checked out the deal on the Second City show (Second City Unhinged) we were planning on seeing that night. Plans were set. Off to the Second City Etc. theatre. Jeremy was leaning against the building, as is his want, and we headed upstairs to find Patience, uh, patiently waiting. Patience is very charming, and appears younger than her age (which I won’t mention, well, yeah, i mean, it’s not everyday you meet a 600 year old woman that looks 29). Also, Patience complimented this very site, so she’s A Number-1 Top Dollar in my book. She is also a fan of Magritte, so yeah, Patience, you mah dogg. (BTW, Patience works for the Cape Cod Community College bookstore, owned by Follett, and is in town for a conference of some sort. Limos were provided.) Anyway. As mentioned, Jeremy was there and Hunter and I related that I had called him a “political mercenary” in a previous post. He said that consultancy is really more like whoring, and I rebutted that whores are just “sexual mercenaries”. Jeremy is cool, but he needs to accept his role in life as a kick-ass take-no-prisoners political mercenary. Soldier of Fortune sorta stuff. Yeah. Heh. Seriously folks, Jeremy is way cool. WAAAY COOL. Rad, even. Okay, now that I’ve finished lathering platitudes on these folks I just met, I’ll get on with the travelogue.

This Second City show involved 3 different improv groups all doing fairly different shows and mixing up styles and whatnots. Adding to the spectacular comedy was incidental piano music on the side of the stage, and coordinated lighting, which made things all the more fluid and interesting. The improv was great and very fluid. I think that the true key of improv is knowing what your fellow actors are going to do without having to say a word. When that happens, it really clicks. The first group, “Tuesday Night Special” did a rambling long-form (a la Project Improv), the second group “The Dirty Half Dozen” did about a half-dozen sketches each based on a single suggestion. My suggestion for “something you find in the kitchen” was “my wife”, which I think stunned the performer who was asking for the suggestion, but the sketch turned out funny as hell. The real ha-ha is that neither Kelly or I spend a lot of time in the kitchen. So, the groups interpretation of this animal-like “wife” character that has to be flushed out of the kitchen by fire was all the more funny to me. And the girl playing “the wife” was hot and funny and had glasses. Real tall, though. The last group “Train Wreck” was just two guys, one playing the part of a lifeguard, the other as a towel rental clerk. Metaphysical pondering about alter-egos across the sea have never been funnier. Also, killing dead air with the line “So… You remember when you killed that guy?” always has a good outcome.

We hit an Irish pub sorta thing after the show, but they weren’t serving food, so we downed a round and found a Subway. Jeremy split, as a good mercenary needs his beauty sleep, and we ate our sandwiches while listening to overnight AM sports shows. We had passed a cool little dive called the Old Town Ale House. A jazz-laden jukebox kept time while we sat in the front window conversing over pints. A good time was had by all. We decided to split up, and Patience took a cab back to her hotel, which was probably going to be expensive, so Nick and Hunter chipped in (hey, I bought the drinks).

So — what’s ahead for today? Well, Hunter and I will be driving back to Louisville leaving here sometime mid-afternoonish (to beat the Chicago rush hour, and hopefully the Indianapolis rush hour as well).