Wedding Cakes and Thrones
But I like the thrones, the oh-so-cleverly hidden triangles, the shooting vertical lines of the art-deco, the postmod and modern squares of the skyline where the wind is said to blow. But really, no one tells you that in fact it's the humidity that hovers over the tips of every skyscraper like a thick, alpaca blanket of yuck. Creating pools of exhaustion in the small of your back so that opaquely green river water from graying fountains sounds refreshing enough to chance.
Hand in hand. Me splayed like a ragdoll on concrete steps, just far enough away to see those eyes that go black in the dim light that twilight would have brought to this glorious little place. Staring up at the sky or watching boats with ghetto music roar past, or closing my eyes and pretending like I never have to go back.
Such colors. Like 333 West Wacker, like those brilliant 9 cylindrical columns, like the light refracting from the toxic river full of the dead bodies and the waste and the filth of the most pretentious city ever. Statistically, damn that river. Aesthetically, damn it too. But for entirely different reasons.
Basted eggs atop one of those silly skilets you've raved on about for months on end. French toast as a early dinner/late lunch. Donuts from Dunkin' for breakfast, and a coffee. With rainbow sprinkles of course. But I have to ask you now, did you get white and black on purpose, or was that just chance?
This isn't coincidence, there's no such thing.
Oh right then, you must have meant to. Fair enough, I'll accept that. It was brilliant. Only so brilliant it struck me how many days later, laying back against my pillow with laptop in lap, just done sipping my usual cup of green tea instead of coffee, instead of cafe lattes in little Italian vespas where I'd rather be any day.
It's inconsequential. I'm here now, and you're there. And I won't think about how long this time because I'll crumble and quake, probably have to go outside and scream and kick bushes -- or really tall grass again.
But for entirely different reasons.
-RK
Hand in hand. Me splayed like a ragdoll on concrete steps, just far enough away to see those eyes that go black in the dim light that twilight would have brought to this glorious little place. Staring up at the sky or watching boats with ghetto music roar past, or closing my eyes and pretending like I never have to go back.
Such colors. Like 333 West Wacker, like those brilliant 9 cylindrical columns, like the light refracting from the toxic river full of the dead bodies and the waste and the filth of the most pretentious city ever. Statistically, damn that river. Aesthetically, damn it too. But for entirely different reasons.
Basted eggs atop one of those silly skilets you've raved on about for months on end. French toast as a early dinner/late lunch. Donuts from Dunkin' for breakfast, and a coffee. With rainbow sprinkles of course. But I have to ask you now, did you get white and black on purpose, or was that just chance?
This isn't coincidence, there's no such thing.
Oh right then, you must have meant to. Fair enough, I'll accept that. It was brilliant. Only so brilliant it struck me how many days later, laying back against my pillow with laptop in lap, just done sipping my usual cup of green tea instead of coffee, instead of cafe lattes in little Italian vespas where I'd rather be any day.
It's inconsequential. I'm here now, and you're there. And I won't think about how long this time because I'll crumble and quake, probably have to go outside and scream and kick bushes -- or really tall grass again.
But for entirely different reasons.
-RK
7 Thought(s):
Wow, Biscuit - you ARE an artist with words. I nearly felt as though I were there, experiencing Chicago as well.
Are you saying the skyscrapers looked like wedding cakes? Because that's just odd.
But, to quibble, it WAS windy when I was there - but I suppose that was only on the waterfront...
Our river tour guide explained that in the old days if your building was so-and-so tall you had to meet certain regulations (help me out here Widge, what were they?).
So instead, they would build them in such a way to get around. "New York," she said, "was building wedding cakes. Chicago was builing thrones."
It was so brilliantly butt awesome that I had to use it.
As for the wind, there was only the sort of breeze that brushes past you and manages to make an instance a moment, whispering all along the riverbanks. That was all.
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Explanations:
The wedding cakes and thrones comes from back when both cities were getting really thick with skyscrapers and the local governments were concerned that the cities would become canyons of no light and wind. So to combat this they made regulations saying that after a certain height you had to take steps back from the sidewalk. In New York, the architects ended up making things like wedding cakes with tiers that changed equally on all sides. In Chicago, they made things like thrones which is easily described by simply picturing a chair with arm rests and all that.
As for Chicago being windy or not, the name doesn't come from Chicago being a meteorogically windy place. In fact, Chicago has about average winds (Minneapolis is the actual windiest city I believe but don't quote me on that). Chicago was called the "Windy City" because it was a place where one would find a lot of corrupt politics, lawyers, and other such "wind-bags"
(the reason the last one is deleted is because I accidentally responded to a different post in this one first. Me = retard)
Corrupt politicians? I like that explanation much better! Great place you live in there, Widge.
Oh but it is a great place, Av. Absolutlely fab! *has a heart attack*
Oh and Widge, thanks for that. You rock!
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