lindsayliveshere.org

Intersecting pissed-off conversations

Yesterday, Kevin and I were musing about the empty, ridiculous product-chasing that seems endless and so self-defeating amongst our generation, and K quoted Fight Club, the same lines which Don Hall quotes today.

This bean curd can play

Listen. Are you eating tofu? If you’re not… well… something might be a little wrong with you. Luckily it’s nothing so bad that it can’t be fixed with a little scramble action. This morning after physical therapy (which should actually be called “order Lindsay to exercise a bunch”) I decided that for one day I would attempt an adult, healthy breakfast. We had tofu in the fridge from the little Chinese grocery down the street, plus bag of frozen stir-fry veggies. To replicate the awesomeness that transpired, here’s the process: cut up the tofu into little 1/4 inch cubes, fry it up in some canola oil. While that’s frying, microwave the veggies. After the tofu gets a little brown, toss in the cooked veggies. Stir it all up for a few minutes and then add some soy sauce or a stir-fry sauce of some kind. And then, if you still don’t like tofu, something is truly, deeply wrong in your brain.

Physically therapeutic

I’ve started going to physical therapy for my knees. About a month ago, I thought: “I will take up running.” But I didn’t know that running wasn’t something my body was ready to take up. According to my physical therapist, I’m built so that in order for my hip to stay in its socket, my knees have to turn slightly inward as I walk, which then creates a lot of pressure on the knee cap as I run. Secretly I take this to mean: “You are a knock-kneed nerd who should not be running anywhere.” But I’m pressing on. This trained physical therapist (thanks, health insurance!) tells me things like where my quads are and that I am not fully extending my legs when I run which is why I go so slow. I’m learning.

My own kind of music

Kevin and I have been watching “Lost” these days, streaming on Abc.com. There’s a moment where the Mama Cass song “Make Your Own Kind of Music” begins to blare, and now I’ve got the song stuck in my head. Like, permanently. Like, if I see you, I might have to sing it to you. Really loudly.

Cooler than all the rest of Niagara Falls

Niagara Falls is mostly a washed-out (ha!) tourist trap. This part of Niagara Falls, however, sounds completely awesome.

Remedial gym

I was pretty smart in school, an honors track kid and all that sort of thing. Except gym. I was placed in Remedial Gym in ninth grade (either because I’d just had surgery on my hand or because I couldn’t swim, I forget which.)

I’d pretty much forgotten about Remedial Gym until quite recently. I was telling a story about something completely different to my writer’s group and somehow this came up — and I doubled over laughing. We were a small, ragtag bunch in Remedial Gym. It was me, Sean Brost — who had to wear a knee brace, two angry and over-weight sophomore girls with bad perms and giant Kurt Cobain t-shirts, a guy who was straight-up in a wheelchair, a really over-weight dude, and some kid who was mentally disabled.

I could not help but die laughing when I thought about us trying to cross-country ski. We spent most of the period out in the shed behind the high school, just trying to get the damn skis on. Then we’d go out for the last ten minutes of the period and fall right over into the snow.

Also, I think that class was the most athletic I’ve ever felt in my life.

First nice day

Sunday was the first real nice day Chicago has seen in weeks. Walking down Clark St., I heard banjo music but couldn’t figure out where it was coming from. Just like last year, some fella decided to dangle his legs out a second floor window and play music for the whole block. And I totally got deja vu. 

New stuff at Gapers Block

The fine folks at Gapers Block launched an arts and culture section today. I’ve got a feature up, about a local artist who decided to say “screw you, running water” and live in a converted industrial space.