lurv.

Tags

city, God, graffiti, Jesus Christ, love, poetry, relationship, sacrifice

LOVE IS NOT CANDY AND FLOWERS
IT’S LONELY SHADOWS AND EMPTY HOURS

On the back of a street sign in front of the LaSalle St. Theatre, currently showing Jersey Boys, in the heart of Chicago’s Loop, you’ll find (if it’s withstood the weathering these past few months) a sticker that humbly proclaims this message.

Is it true for you?

I thought it was true for me. I found it for the first time, deftly guided, and I nodded in deep agreement. I knew love wasn’t easy; I could testify; I even loved the poeticism that embraced the metaphor. I’d seen too many romantic comedies that end happily ever after with all the glitter and gold of romantic love. There’s just no way, I thought. That’s not the way it really works.  Heartache is true, and so is this.

But I was wrong. I was wrong to agree. I can’t deny the lyrical stepping that the phrase achieves, and no, everything about love isn’t always pretty and the romantic comedies still aren’t right. But. But love is not, it’s certainly not lonely and empty. If love is lonely and empty for you, let me gently suggest that it’s not love. It could be a thousand other things, but don’t be fooled to think that it’s love.  Love, perfect love, never leaves you lonely or empty.  Not a chance.

Christ’s love for me is real. I may feel lonely or lost at times, but at those times my understanding of God’s love for me isn’t complete. Jesus doesn’t make everything glitter and gold the moment you trust Him. No, sir. But can I readily admit the gaping hole in my comprehension? Is it even possible that I might be missing something? Or am I too proud to say so? When I’m properly understanding the big picture, God’s love for me is deeply sacrificial and meets every single need I could even imagine having. In His love, as He is love, God does the best possible good for me, His child, every time. Isn’t that better than candy and flowers? Sometimes I don’t even know what the best possible good is for me.  But God loves me unconditionally, and whatever the elusive “best” is, He acts in that direction on my behalf. It’s better than every amazing stereotype that love gets. It’s life-saving, literally. And it’s how love between you and me should at least try to function.

Much love.

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The End of Graffiti for Now.

Tags

Chicago, city, graffiti, Lucky Boys Confusion, photos, pictures, video, writing

Graffiti in the City is taking a temporary hiatus.  My favorite band through high school and college called the break they took last year from touring a temporary hiatus.  But all the members have gone out to start side projects that are – for the most part – decidedly worse in sound and quality than the original LBC.  I suspect their hiatus to, at its core, be a disguised break-up, a release from commitment of tours and albums, and a freedom to dabble all over the music scene.  Whether this be with equal portions of freedom and uncertainty, here are the last graffiti’s that have survived the city of Chicago.

Find one clue while grabbing a newspaper outside this elegant restaurant that specializes in dry aged steaks, just east of the Magnificent Mile.

Find another clue when you mail a letter a block from my favorite Thai restaurant in Near North.

There’s a clue in this photo, which was very wet from the rain when I last visited.  Use the landmarks in the picture to find it in the city:

There’s also a clue in this photo.  Find the corner in the city that looks like this:

The very last clue for this season is in the shot of this video.  The place looks different in the winter than since the snow has melted.  If you’ve visited the city much, you’ve probably been here a time or two.  Find the video here: Graffiti Finale

“listen to the blues of his baby girl”

Tags

blues, Chicago, city, CTA, downtown, graffiti, music, writing

It was my last graffiti post, but it was gone before anyone found it. I’m the idiot, because apparently the CTA cleans up their area daily. Even the orange-green signs beneath the stairs heading up to the trains from ground level are stripped before the sun sets. I had to bend down to stick it on, and I didn’t think anyone of authority would notice (though I was terrified during the sticking that someone of authority would notice). It would be cool to spread the word the everyone who went up the steps.  But, CTA didn’t think so.  So only the CTA clean-up person, in her reflector vest, got the word.  Hope she liked it.  I did.

I had highlighted a phrase kinda like it, months ago, in one of my baby moleskin journals. I’m always trying to be crafty and lyrical with the interplay between life and song, writing and music, words and notes and all that. Ultimately, I’m not a lyricist, and nobody but me would call me a writer, but I find the intersection of the arts a brilliant feeding ground for great ideas.  And, if I stick around that chasm, maybe a great idea will come to even me.

For this potential nugget of brilliance to go anywhere, I’d have to explore the dual-meaning of listen, the dual-meaning of blues, the dual meaning of – yep, you guessed it – baby girl.  Their interplay, of course, and the true and hypothetical situations that play out those details as images.  Does it seem like a stretch? Probably is, which is why I started small on a sticky label.  You could say, CTA ruined my dream.

There’s something between music and reality that holds weight.  Something to be said about the deepest blues of her broken heart and the pentatonic scale solos that drive her home.  There’s a parallel to be explored and anatomized between the tears that blur her vision of the highway and the moans from bended strings that blanket her absence from these walls.  It isn’t forced, I’m sure.  The chasm isn’t really so wide at all.  None of it’s really that different.  Just listen.

Graffiti in the City #5

Tags

Chicago, city, downtown, graffiti, scavenger hunt, tag, tagging, writing

Survey says, this one’s not very difficult at all.  Go to it: Unlock your bike across the street from one of Chicago’s finest. If I were a certain kinda psychic, this is what I’d name my hotel, too.

Graffiti in the City #4

Tags

Chicago, city, downtown, graffiti, scavenger hunt, tag, tagging, writing

For all of those of you in the wonderful city of Chicago, you don’t have much of an excuse not to go searching for these, it’ll be over 40 degrees all weekend!

If you find yourself in a Monroe state of mind, go West and wait for a sign. The boys will keep you company.

Graffiti in the City #3

Tags

Chicago, city, games, graffiti, scavenger hunt

Hopefully this one will remain. It’s not exactly inconspicuous and the cold was giving me a hard time about the sticking. So, hopefully happy hunting!

There’s a brown and a red stop that’ll take you within walking distance of a large white building* with lotsa windows that represents Chicago’s claim to the greatest pro runningback of all time (not statistically speaking). Go there. Truly, though…you’d have an easier time finding the clue if you were paying quarters to park for a pick-up soccer game.

*There has been friendly banter about whether this building is actually white.  Don’t let the details deter you, it can only be one place.

Graffiti in the City

Tags

city, downtown, graffiti, scavenger hunt

I think Bradley’s directions are more of what we had in mind for this scavenger hunt of sorts. But I was so thrilled to post one, I beat him to the punch of the first one. Even in the cold, so far neither of them are hard to find.

Here ya go: Exit train where the 15th century French explorer rubs elbows with the eighth president of these United States. Look left, look right. Your exit path is of extreme importance. Follow the crowd? The road less traveled? Proceed down stairs. When you level off a glance up should shed light on your subject.

Graffiti in the City

Tags

city, games, graffiti, travel

For those who live in or around Chicago, you’re all welcome to play. Don’t bother commenting, letting me know that it’s the most brilliant idea you’ve ever heard. That you’ve always wanted to do a sort of scavenger hunt in the city. I know. We know. It’s genius. Go find graffiti:

1.) Brown line to [opposite of North + place where ships dock].
2.) Face the candy store.
3.) Walk forward.
4.) Continue walking past street signs that match the mneumonic: Never Climb Every Angle
5.) Stand on the North East corner at the intersection of the street in clue (1) and the street represented by “Angle” in clue (2)
6.) You are within 10 feet of the graffitti.
7.) Peek, literally, behind the FO
CUS to find it.

Inside Library Books

Tags

art, Barnes and Noble, books, bookstore, fine art, Frank Warren, gangs, graffiti, library, poetry, postcard, postsecret, read, secrets, Tijuana, writing

Brilliant!

I’m significantly interested in the postsecret art project that this Frank Warren dude started when I was in college.  Check out the website for a sneak peek of this weeks secrets if you’ve never heard of it.  As with any fine art worth it’s hours in devotion, there’s a spectrum of style.  I’m not the biggest fan of the melodramatic, introspective realizations.  Sometimes it’s sad that Donna Depressed doesn’t have a single person to trust and sends her deepest feelings into a pop artist, but who am I to judge, right?  There’s always so many sex secrets and fantasies, again, sad.  The value that folks don’t put on marriage is sickening.  I wish I could pray for the restoration of every marriage that is represented by cards that read, “I’m afraid to tell my husband…” or “My wife would be crushed is she knew…”.  Let’s face it, people have problems and marriage isn’t always pretty, but – honestly, now.

*

Then there’s funny ones and brilliant ones [I’m not claiming an unabridged, complete list of secret-styles here, but it’s a start…]  Putting poetry in library books is brilliant.  I don’t question the motive, because there are about ten good reasons that I can think of off the top of my head as to why that’s a brilliant idea.  I question the guy who steals parking tickets and doesn’t pay them, or the chick who pretends that she likes to recycle.  I can’t tell you how many times I’ve spoken to the pages of the postsecret books, “Why on earth?”.  But putting poetry just about anywhere falls into the loose, post-modern definition of “art”, and while I resent the parameters of that definition, some good things do come of it.

*

I read a book in Barnes and Noble the other day, something about graffiti.  In my sphere of interest, it falls under “Desired Coffee Table Books” [of which I have one book and zero coffee tables] and it was mostly pictures.  There were photos of graffitti and a caption of the city in which it was found.  Again with the loose definitions, some of the items were not what I would consider traditional graffitti.  There were mailing labels stuck to telephone and light poles,  chalk and crayon drawings on the sides of post office delivery boxes, even one picture of gang letters carved in the wet sand, like the mural on the Tijuana beach years ago.  Putting poetry in library books isn’t so different, hm?

*

My mind trails off in digression wondering about the nature of the market as a sneaky fine artist like this.  The reward would be marginal, I’m sure, but money hardly defines worthiness to me.  Go get a book from the library, maybe you’ll be pleasantly surprised.