Tag: Mountain Goats

Andy is all hype.

People always be asking me if I’m gonna load up on Parisian museums.  As the Puerto Rican kids used to say, hells no.  Museums bore me and make my legs achy.  Sort of like when your girlfriend/wife shops for clothes while you mindlessly trudge forward, guiding the cart like a broken ox.  Not that I would know.

Worthy of achy legs:

  1. The blurry impressionist stuff at Chicago’s Art Institute.
  2. The shrunken heads at Chicago’s Field Museum.  I hadn’t seen them since I was a boy, so a few years back I dropped in on them.  No luck.  I was informed that the heads have been in storage for 20+ years because “they’re not very PC”.  Nice job with that.

Today, for no good reason I dragged Shut-in to the Andy Warhol Museum.  *Yawn*.  Stripped of his aura and hype, little of Andy’s work warranted attention.  The highlight of the trip was a Cuban sandwich from the basement cafe.  Yumzies!

Fun fact #1:  In college I tried to switch my major to Art.  I was told that my grades were too low, and that I’d have to stick with Math.  Fun fact #2:  Shut-in has an Art degree, and he agreed that Mr. Warhol was a lame.

In other “news”, yesterday Zach and I played living room hockey.  Aside from the potential “losing teeth” aspect of the game, living room hockey is maximum father/son fun.


When it rains or snows, a pit forms in my stomach.  I’m paranoid that a roof tile has cracked, allowing water to soak the rafters, jumpstarting an invasion of hungry wet-wood eating bugs.  One upon a time I was a different kind of nutcase.  In those days rain calmed my teenage anxiety.  On rainy nights in a soulless Chicago suburb, I’d lay awake, dreaming of an all-night Seattle-bound train ride.  Pitter pat, pitter pat, the steady beat of falling rain would morph into the clip clop of a train.  A mile from home, an actual train would sound its horn.  Lost in a rain induced train-trance, stress, worries and thoughts of suicide would melt away.

Way out in Seattle, young Kurt Cobain, fed up, and anxious to be rid of Seattle’s depressing rain, dreamed of riding a train to Chicago.  Too bad he didn’t.  We could have like totally hung out.