Chicago

September 10, 2008

Looking down Rush Street from my window on the 7th floor of the Sutton Place Hotel. A spreading green tree stands at the forking of the streets. At this late afternoon hour, Chicago looks like it’s made of icing and gingerbread. On the plane I sat beside Joe Davant, an open-hearted textile maker from Charlotte, who is friends with John and Zack, my neighbors back home. In the Art Institute café I sat across from two people I know from the art world in Asheville, who are here for the Jeff Koons retrospective at the Museum of Contemporary Art. It’s a small, small world. I invited them all to Anna Livia. Let’s see if they come. I would if it were all reversed. During check-in, Franz, the Nordic male-model desk clerk, bragged about going to see Wicked tonight, so I got online and bought myself a ticket too. I don’t especially need to see a big flashy Broadway musical–where they spend more on a costume than Anna’s entire budget-- but none of the shows I want to see plays on a Wednesday night. I tried to tempt Franz to the Bailiwick to see Anna, but my guess is that Wicked comprises his theater diet for a year. He doesn’t like me because the Wi Fi password he gave me didn’t work, repeatedly, and I kept having to call for another. I suppose it was my fault, but I couldn’t figure out why.

First, of course, down to the Art Institute, where I saw mostly the Dutch and Flemish masters, intending to leave some for another day. Taxied down but walked back, to establish in my mind the fact that I could, and can walk back from the Ford Center theater tonight if I need to. In the café, after meeting my friends, I broke a long drought by gushing out a big, fat poem. I should be transcribing it from my journal now, but instead I’m gaping out my window like a farm boy. From that window I can just see a Mordor-ish Black Tower peeping around the edge of another building. I forget which is the Sears Tower and which is the other one. A few blocks south a crane moves back and forth, golden in the golden light. It must be 40 storeys high.