I am sitting at the desk in my hotel room at the dana, on north state street in chicago. by far, the swankiest place I've ever rested my head, including places my parents have splurged on when I've accompanied them to exotic destinations (and by "exotic" I mean florida. and cabo. and DC.) it's almost 2:30a chicago time, but I don't know what zone it is specifically - central I think? anyway.
my haircut is all fresh but it's currently whacked-out from mostly dried sweat, my feet are about to fall off, I haven't eaten anything today besides nuts, I've had one quad and three red bulls, and I just saw a life-altering wrens set at schubas. I really, really should eat, I even caved on the minibar earlier (hence the nuts), but it just seems like too much work. showering seems like too much work. it's been so bonkers, the week leading up to coming here, all the prep, all the arranging, and then wham! chicago. suddenly it's all so very seamless.
after the ride in from midway on the subway (L? el? train? whatever.) every one since has been old hat. the streets seem familiar, a cross section of manhattan, pioneer square, and pike/pine. lots of rich kids, a handful of hipsters, and some long-lost new friends at the club, where I may wind up still pulling together a written interview tomorrow.
I think I have to go sleep now. I can always ask for clean sheets. but yeah -- kevin pulled me up on stage (no small feat, in a short-ish skirt without much give) with stephanie and some dude and said, "play the black keys. any ones." and every few moments we'd hit the right notes, and it would be fucking magical. they played about 6-8 new songs, everything ever off the meadowlands, and even came back for a second encore with 'made enough friends' ... I almost fell right through the floor. schubas is tiny, tiny, tiny. the pictures are amazing. I can barely see.
tomorrow: breakfast and coffee, I think wicker park or something? writing, walking, sightseeing, the soaking up of things, the toughening of summer feet, and maybe some bunny bios. and another wrens show. and then more flying. and then austin. and then glen hansard and patrick and everything after, and then soon I'll be home.
from the land of bamboo floors and simulated-downpour showerheads,