A Hazy, Lazy Re-cap

Taking a trip to New Orleans and Southern Mississippi prepared me for the summer here. Our heat wave in Chicago feels like a pleasant Holiday Inn sauna, while the thermostat in the Big Easy is currently set to "Vietnamese Prison Camp."

I never thought I'd like Mississippi, but it turned out to be our favorite stop on the honeymoon. Southern people are friendly people _ particularly in a small town like Pass Christian, where we stayed. And you always have a conversation topic _ THE HEAT.

We rented a beautiful house for a few days in P.C. It was a writer's dream _ desks, big windows, silence. I'd go back in a second. I'd even live there. Life sprung from every little stream _ filled with fish and bugs. Cattle grazed lazily by the streetside.

New Orleans was interesting. Yes, that's vague. It had it's good points _ history, nightlife and the gorgeous Audubon Park _ but Erika and I felt relieved when we left. Lots of tourist traps. It's like Times Square, but with much more booze. Don't try the Hand Grenade, not matter what Ludacris says.

And the wedding? I've tried to resist shopworn phrases, but there's some truth to them. It did go by quickly. I wish I had more time to talk to old friends and family. But I believe most everyone had a great time. We had a great time. What more is there? I don't know.

Return of the King Drive Construction

Back! We're back! Back from our honeymoon. Now, I'll fill you in, in a bit on the details. Firstly, please check out this video from our wedding. I recommend the high quality link, as it looks much better. Thank you to my old friend Adam Rosen for putting it up and to Marshall for shooting it.

Yes, We Have Spicy Cole Slaw

I just read about the Mekong giant catfish, which can top out at 10' in length. They're critically endangered in their native Thailand.

If I was the King of Thailand, I'd take up the cause of this gentle giant and trumpet the natural bounty of the mother nation. I'd hold a news conference and wade into the Mekong River in my regal robes. My assistants would hold one of the giant catfish, flapping wildly, so I could put my hand on its dorsal fin and make a pronouncement...

KING:
Today, this fish is our most important citizen _ not just this fish, but all his brothers and sisters wherever they may be swimming in the 1,500 navigable miles of the Mekong River in Thailand, which I might add, are perfect for your next rafting or kayaking vacation. We are blessed by nature's bounty to count such a large creature among our native fauna, and a tasty creature, I might add. I was dining on giant catfish last night and--

(assistant whispers something)

I'd like to clarify that last statement. I was not dining on giant catfish, it was pad Thai with sauteed tofu. And now, as King of Thailand, I proclaim this fish--

(fish thrashes violently)

This fish, which could be fried nicely or diced and breaded into several hundred sticks _ put some hot sauce on there, a little red beans and rice--

(assistant whispers something)

THIS FISH is hereby off limits.

(the fish has stopped moving)

ASST:
It's dead, your majesty.

KING:
What a pity. I'm speechless.

(the assistants wrap the fish in a giant newspaper)

KING:
I'd like to direct you all to the press tent. Lunch will be served in 20 minutes.

REPORTER:
I've never eaten something I've covered before. How should I feel?

REPORTER2:
I think this is what they call "new journalism."

Sting of Rejection (c)

Four days till D-Day. My suit is ready. We have booze. We have truffles.

I'm taking my yearly playwriting class in an effort to better myself. The sting of rejection clouded my mind the other day, but now I'm feeling more reflective, and I'm trying to see what the other three plays had that mine didn't.

Enough of my fucking carping. I'll try to keep these wranglings outta the funny papers. That said... go get 'em!

Insert 75 Cents for Learning Experience

After months of anticipation... my play was not picked. I came very close in one competition. That should encourage me, right? I don't know. What's the point? Well, one should enjoy writing first and foremost. The accolades are just plastic olive wreaths. Sure, it'd be great to see the work come to life, but do it for yourself.

This is what every book on writing I've ever read has said on the subject of "Recognition." Now I'm free of this project. That is my reward. I can do whatever I want now... And what I really need to do is the dishes.

Topical Humor Ltd.

Do you have the Google toolbar? I was disappointed the "stock quotes" function meant stock market and not, say, a canned witticism relating to your search term.
For example...
Student Loans
stock quote: "Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of student loans". Oscar Wilde

How Bad Ideas are Born

I promise! Not another post about how I don't write in here anymore. I do write in here anymore. I'm writing right now as you read this. In fact, I'm only a few words ahead of you, that's how fresh this copy is.

Now there's a WeBLoG idea. The writer tries to outpace the reader. There'd have to be a timer. Would it be quality? Some real gems could squeeze out, but I imagine most would be dross.

Work, work, work. Let's go to work. Tonight we work. I'm getting fucking sick of the banter on the desk today. I need some earplugs. AHA! Another idea! Canned office chatter on tape. Are you a data entry specialist who works alone? Or are you sick of the idiotic noise invading your cubicle? Just pop in a tape. Choices include...
_ insurance office
_ dentist's office
_ taxi dispatching office
_ Fed EX warehouse office (now with PA announcements)
_ Cook County probate court records office (NEW!)

It's On My Planner

Woundup has been collecting a lot of dust over the past week. I'm not promising increased content _ and I'm not predicting less content. What happens... happens.

We had our wedding shower on Sunday and received many wonderful household gifts _ particularly for the kitchen.

What else? Well, let me offer you some excuses from StockExcuses.com:
_ Oh man, I have been so busy lately.
_ There's just, geez, been a lot on my plate.
_ I really need to buckle down and just do it.
_ Things have been so crazy around here.
_ I got your message but, well... (laughs)
_ I'm starting tomorrow. I'm serious.
_ Hey, give me your email and I'll write you.

LunchTime: A Hunger Reduction Inititative

Man, I'd love to head over to Jim's Steakout for lunch. Thanks to the magic of WeBLoG, I'll just step in the ol' teleporter here and ZZZZAP!!!

Whimsical Gems Fall From My Pen (part 2)

I thought it was going to be a quiet one today _ just the five of us here _ but something happened a few minutes ago, and now one of the editors is lamenting his soon-to-be-lost job. Gee whiz, what a cruel bizness.

But let's not talk about that anymore. Let's talk about time management. I told my shrink (or analyst, if you'd prefer this was the '60s and I was, say, Jack Parr) that I'm now able to visualize the moment when I choose whether to write or not write. It's like standing at the corner of Milwaukee and North and Damen and having the choice to go to Myopic Books or maybe get something to eat at Sultan's Market or STOP STOP STOP BAD METAPHOR. RESTART.

Really, it's nice to be in touch with free will. I'm not saying I'm any more in touch with it than anyone else, but I'm trying to be a more efficient writer, and that requires becoming intimate with one's own procrastinative impulse (my analyst's term). If you can pin down the exact moment when "I'm going to write a Pulitzer Prize-winning play!" becomes "Pistons-Pacers game six--It's FAN-tastic!" you've gained a little more perspective on what we call the creative life.

Now, if you'll excuse me, there's an '81 Astros-Phillies game on ESPN Classic tonight _ Niekro vs. Carlton. I've made my choice.

Chest Thumpin' (cough, cough)

I got a little further than I expected. I entered the play in three competitions. I became a finalist in one _ it would've gotten a real production at a very real Chicago theater _ but they didn't pick me for the final cut.

My old teacher told me there were more than 70 scripts submitted, so I feel fortunate. No word on the other two contests, tho I just sumbitted to one of 'em today.

Don't worry. This isn't going to turn into the "LOOK AT ME" WeBLoG, but I had to share a little. If it makes you feel any better, I was looking at the play today and thought it was awful. Is this the perpetual dissatisfaction of the creative life? Is the glass half empty? Oh, I don't know. See you at the desk.

But What About Lawndale?

FINALLY! The true story of Tom Troccoli's Dog!

Look Away, Veal Cutlet. Look Away.

Yes, folks, you heard it right. After June 18, I'm going VEGETARIAN. It's part of our pre-nuptial pact: Erika quits smoking, and I quit meat.

My folks think Erika will have the harder time. I tend to agree, but the Donahues didn't ease my transition into greener pastures by ordering 24 pieces of Popeye's chicken yesterday.

I'll miss the many meats in my life: bacon, ribs, duck, catfish ... We've had some fine times together. A favorite meat memory? Anytime I strapped on a bib and joined my friends in devouring 50 wings at Duff's.

It's been a good run. Goodbye Italian beef pizza topping. Goodbye fried calamari. Goodbye chicken whopper. (sniff)

Of course, I can still eat cheese. Maybe this five-inch slab of triple-cream Havarti will dull the pain.

Foie Gras? Make It a High Life.

Per yesterday's entry. We're still working on the Tuman's interactive beer guide. At the moment, it's the pay phone outside Rite Liquors. Call me at home and I'll give you my recommendation. I can't help if you get knifed, tho.

I Brought My Own Snifter

I, like all my blogging brethren, harbor a secret ambition to horn my way into the respectable writing world. And nothing's more respectable than the New York Times dining section's booze-tasting panel. Drinking high-end vodkas and Austrian Rieslings on the Times' dime is the only way to get hammered, in my opinion.

But until I get that call on the golden telephone, I must be content with my seat on the Tuman's Tavern tasting panel, which meets every Friday evening at 2:30 a.m. ...

Jason: Here's another one. A canned beer. (drinks) Brisk. Playful.

Mark: (drinks) Simple but... assertive?

Erika: (drinks) It tastes like the floor of a taxi. (removes the cover)

Mark: Old Style again.

Erika: Don't we have anything else?

Jason: Amstel Light.

(Pause. Jason puts the cover on another Old Style.)

Jason: Here's one. A canned beer...

The World, Briefly

Coming to a mail slot near you _ a wedding invitation. Yes, we're sending them out today. Please reply by June 1st. Hope to see you there.

(The CTA clowns are on right now. What more can they say? It's the same ultimatum. The Mayor is up there, too. If the cuts go through, it's his ass _ like Bilandic and the snow plows.)

PLEASE NOTE: NO BUS OR "L" SERVICE AVAILABLE TO WEDDING FACILITY.

Warm Up the House Organ and Play Us a Tune

The Web-savvy CTA has beat us to the punch, trying to stem the stream of vitriol. What is the computer ownership rate among CTA riders who don't have a company transit card program? You only get a half-hour on the public library terminals.

Eureka

Is a two-syllable name the key to success in the theater?
For example:
_ Pin-ter
_ Ma-met
_ Bec-kett
_ Al-bee
_ Or-ton
_ Ge-net
_ Chur-chill
_ Buch-ner
_ Ib-sen
_ Strind-berg
and, of course...
_ Shake-speare

noted exceptions...
one syllable: Brecht
four: Ionesco, Pirandello

Buried Lede

I'm in a pit looking up this morning _ figuratively, of course, but always a little less so on a Monday.

The deadlines have passed. I've submitted my play to two different competitions. In the pit, you hope the big hand of Recognition will appear from out the clouds and pick you up from the muck.

But I must remind myself that...
a.) It's more than likely I'll be rejected.
b.) There are at least 2,500 other people trying to do this in Chicago.
c.) I should just get back to work and not worry about it.

In real news, Erika won a $100 prize for the best poem at Loyola University this year. Congratulate her the next time you spot her. She's definitely earned it.

Corner of Lake and State, Please

Tonight, ABC 7 will air an expose on cell phone use by cab drivers. Chuck Goudie got out on the streets and in the faces of some cabbies downtown.

In journalism school (much like creative writing school) they told us to look at our own lives for story ideas. You'll be surprised, they said, how many interesting stories you can come up with.

On his way back from Gibson's, Chuck Goudie takes a cab, and, sure enough, his driver is talking on his phone. Maybe Chuck has to give directions twice because the guy is in the middle of a conversation. Maybe, after a moment of silence, the driver says something. Chuck thinks he's being addressed and answers, "Excuse me?" But the driver continues on, a little wire hanging from his ear. Chuck is embarrassed.

There you go. Instant story idea. Chuck Goudie, leave the cabbies alone. Sure some of them are the worst asshole drivers in the city, but leave 'em alone. Let 'em talk to their buddies or their wives.

How 'bout a story on one the shittiest jobs in Chicago _ driving a cab. Go out there and get behind the wheel. Then you'll have something to tell those students at your next Medill School lecture... "I've chased mob bosses in the court house, I've crossed more police lines than I can count and I even drove a cab..."

If ABC 7 has accepted West Side poverty as inevitable, it should accept cabbies on cell phones as inevitable, too. That's two topics crossed off the list. If they wish hard enough, maybe some Buffalo will run down LaSalle Street.