Was originally named Operation-Meet-A-Woman but shopping is usually a trial for me. By the time I'm in it; sweaty, disheveled, looking for the right size, meeting a woman is long out of my mind.
I'd planned to make a quick stop in Wrigleyville then head to the Loop to some of the bigger stores and find some more clothes for work but I never made it downtown. For about an hour and a half I ran around Wrigleyville and had a very successful operation.
No women met but the other objectives more than cleared.

All in all I ended up with:
-5 shirts for work
-2 new jeans
-1 cool t shirt
-1 pair hiking/snow boots
-3 ties
-1 cool new sweatshirt
-1 cool ass leather jacket, the type I've been meaning to get for years.

I've become quite the clothes horse since my wardrobe burned up. I'm making a pretty impressive little collection. It's really changing my image. No more clothes that are a little too tight, too worn, too stained or too outdated. Everything I have now is what I want to wear. Some of the stuff before I've had since high school. That made it vintage and I loved it but now everything fits today's style and though I've never much cared about that, it's kind of cool how I look like a little fashion plate, studded belt and all. I'm going hipster a bit, what do you expect when the Alley is your favorite clothing store? I've made it a point to not go too far into it, I think it's too conformist and I miss my old style (military surplus issue) but it does fit me a bit. If I really was honest and made my tastes and fashion choices match I'd probably have really cheap tattoos and a mullet.

I need to be more active so that's what I'm going to do. I'm considering taking another job waiting tables at that place in Wicker Park where I met that guy that talked to me about that stuff that time. You remember that don't you? He talked about his brother that was in some band and he took photos of some people some time ago?

That would be real Chicago hipster, having a responsible but creative full time job and something more tedious and street like being a waiter as a second job. It would go with my sideburns.

I also ordered some tickets for some shows coming up; Tenacious D in November and Twisted Sister in December. Should be great. I'd love to see either of those bands. Now it's a good evening, I can smell the wet air from the lake and it's not too cold. Life is good.

I've been trying to get in touch with C because I didn't want things to just end. We've been trying to get in touch with each other and finally made plans to meet tonight. I ended up staying late to meet her, grabbing some food to go at Clark's and jumping into her car to make it to a show before it started. Her friend was the piano player in Marathon 33 at the Straw Dog theater.
We were shovelling the food into our mouths as she worried that she was late. She was smitten with a new guy who was married (to another man) and didn't want to disappoint him.

Made it to the show late and got a special escort through the dressing room. At this point I had no idea what it was about, or even what the title was. I'd been backstage at shows before during my drama stint in high school and it's always a surreal place, this was even more so. People half dressed, running around, makeup caked on, clothes strewn around. There was a sailor in one corner, a corny thin mustachioed thirties gent and a few worn out depression era floozies. It made me remember what was so great about drama.
The play had started and the audience was a good number. It was opening night. Looking closer it seemed it was mostly relatives and friends of the cast. There were quite a few senior citizens in the seats, the type of people I normally wouldn't imagine going to see a show at small hole in the wall theaters like this one.
I have seen two plays in my life, one if you don't count Blue Man Group, so I'm not much of a critic. I just like the idea of watching actual people rather than film for once. At first it seemed like a good story; naive girl in the Depression joins a dance marathon while running away from home. She gets caught up with one shyster who convinces her to run away and compete in fixed dance marathons around the country. Or something like that. I wasn't really quite sure. There were so many subplots, stories that went nowhere and out of nowhere they would start dancing, singing or break into Vaudeville slapstick. They had the "I'll never go hungry again!" moment that seemed out of place and suddenly people would start fighting. Very confusing.
I loved the set though, old timey Chicago style, it really set the mood. I enjoyed the show though it brought out some inappropriate laughs at times. C's roommate, much more knowledgeable in theater than I am, couldn't wait for it to end, at one point trying to sleep on her shoulder.
I didn't have much time alone with C but it was great to see her again. I always forget how much I really have and concentrate on all the bad shit. I've never really appreciated it. Considering all that's happened I've made some great changes.

Exhausted after the play. C, her roommate, the piano player and I were going to get some drinks afterwards but since we were on my street I went home. By the time I got in the door my body was aching. I slept well.

One thing I have to mention, I never thought of myself as sheltered, if anything I am jaded but some things I've seen in the city have shocked me. Not anything too out of the ordinary, but usually people no one else notices get my attention, like the guy coming out of the bar dressed as a sheriff in a bad western with a star covered in glitter or people that look like they should be dead walking through a crowd like nothing's strange.
I love it, I love the oddities of society. I love it even more that no one seems to notice here. In Boston everyone would be watching and acting like they're disinterested.
The L is a strange place late on Friday night.

On May 5, 1993 the bodies of three young boys were found murdered in the woods nearby their homes in West Memphis Arkansas. The bodies were savaged; all were beaten, some were partially skinned, one was castrated. The town was justifiably horrified and demanded the heads of those that committed such a crime. The police force in this normally idle highway community were eager to find those responsible. News of the crime spread around the nation. On the other side of the river, in Memphis, it was a headline in the paper for weeks. I was in school there at the time and I wanted the killers found more than anyone. What happened disgusted me.


The victims: Christopher Byers, Michael Moore and Steve Branch

Less than a month later three teens were arrested and charged with the murders. Papers said they were hoodlums; one worshipped Satan, they did badly in school and had no future. Everyone talked about these "bad kids" and how they hoped they'd burn. The oldest was eighteen, the youngest fifteen.


The accused: Damien Echols, Jason Baldwin and Jessie Misskelley

The media followed the case as closely as possible, indicting them daily on the front page. The three boys were unassuming, not the sort you'd believe capable of carrying out such a crime. One of them confessed to police, describing exactly what took place. That and the testimonies of others, including a jailhouse confession to another inmate and a young girl that overheard them bragging about it in the stands at a local baseball game and their case was sealed.
First Jesse Misskelley, the son of a mechanic and confessor of the crime, was put on trial and summarily sentenced to life plus forty years in prison. Soon after his friends, Damien Echols, an eighteen year old loner and product of a broken home, and Jason Baldwin, a small, shy momma's boy, were tried together. Being poor and without any support, their defense consisted of state provided attorneys. Only one of the defendants took the stand where he answered questions concerning the library books about the occult found in his possession and what he thought about the crime.
With little defense, the two boys were found guilty. Baldwin received a life sentence without parole while Echols was sentenced to death.
That would be end of the story. Three people were sentenced for the death of three innocent boys. People were satisfied, if not happy. That would be the end, but it isn't.

An HBO camera crew filming the trial for an edition of America Undercover happened to catch the trial and the circumstances surrounding it. Finding the footage questionable they released it as a film and sent it to the network where it was seen by people around the world and what they saw didn't set well with them.
Misskelley's confession seemed coerced. The film revealed he had been kept away from his parents without food or the consultation of an attorney, illegal in any case but especially so with an underage child. Even more so if his iq is low enough to consider him mentally retarded. Despite being questioned for such a long period of time, the police only thought to record the last thirty minutes of the conversation. In court the jury heard the recording of a tired boy who needed assistance talking by an overeager detective who seemed to feed him the answers.
No evidence could match them to the scene of the crime. Their clothes were free of blood, an impossibility with such a crime and none of them seemed to have a motive. The marks on the boys could only be made with expert precision, a skill none of them seemed to have. They were far from the bloodthirsty killers they were portrayed as. Other than being intensely scared and nervous, none seemed the type that could so easily commit such crimes.
While the trial raged, the stepfather of one of the boys, a man named John Mark Byers saw the media interest as an opportunity for the spotlight. When cameras were around he raged at the three boys on the stand, invoking biblical vengeance against them and spitting on their makeshift graves for the camera. He swore he'd torture them were they ever set free.
A look into his past brought about even more questions. Byers was a jeweler who'd not been able to keep a job. He was an alcoholic and a drug user. On top of that he was known not only for beating his wife but for advocating the use of force as discipline for children.


John Mark Byers

Around Christmas he gave the filmmakers a strange gift; a used hunting knife with human blood on it. The filmmakers immediately handed the weapon over to the police, who tested it and found human blood. When pressed as to the blood type, the police replied that they had botched the results and could not give a second test.
The boys settled into their life in prison and life in the small town tried to get back to normal. As time passed however, the movie, as well as the notoriety of the case, began to grow. People from around the United States were in shock that such a thing could happen in this country. It looked as if three more boys would lose their lives while the killer of three other boys would be allowed to walk free.
A movement began to grow and the changes in technology allowed them to let their voices be heard. The prosecutors for the case, still congratulating themselves on a job well done, were on television again, defending their past actions. Meanwhile the accused boys had grown and showed up on television, commenting on the case. Echols had a stay of execution and had become a Buddhist as well as a very intelligent and prolific writer. Baldwin had graduated high school in prison and was studying Law.
While Echol's family had moved on, Baldwin's mother still yearns to see her soon free, as does Misskelley's father and they still actively support their sons. Dan Stidham, Misskelley's lawyer and the only one still working on the case, said the decision didn't sit well with him and has sworn to set them free. While his other clients have dropped him, he promises to see the case through to the end. It is the only case he works on now. Were it not for him, their futures would look bleak. He has gained the support of some of the most notable forensic experts in the country, who have studied the crime scene thoroughly.
New evidence has come to light. Bite marks on the skin of the murdered boys were discovered and, after testing was done, were found to not match any of the three men accused. It was impossible to have the same impressions made of Byers' teeth as he had them removed soon after the evidence came to light. Money is currently being collected to have DNA testing done in the case, which is hoped will clear the men of the crime, possibly freeing them from prison. The prosecutors in the case are doing everything they can to downplay its growing notoriety, labelling it as fair justice done. Meanwhile Echols is coming on his thirty second birthday having spent almost half his life in prison for a crime evidence shows he did not commit.

and John Mark Byers? His wife was found dead from mysterious circumstances. While he claims she overdosed, others believe she was strangled to death violently. Later he gained attention for burglary and attacking the son of one of his neighbors. He also faced police when he pulled a gun on a child, forcing him to beat up a smaller child. When he was arrested selling drugs to an undercover police officer he was arrested and thrown in jail.


The accused today: Echols, Baldwin and Misskelley

I wrote this for a few reasons. I feel close to the case, since it happened in the next town over and the age of the boys. I am only a year older than Echols and was right out of high school when the crime occurred. I know the depths people will go to ostracize people that don't fit the norm. I listen to a lot of the same bands they did and wore black, two things that the prosecution used against them in the trial.
The case shows the extent the media will go to get a story, publishing dishonest reports with only slight truth to them in order to get a reaction and sell papers. It's one of the reasons I no longer want to work in that industry.
I also think that no matter how shitty life can get and how I think I'm going through some bad shit there are always people that have it worse and are handling it better. It helps keep things in perspective.

I was considering starting another page or a blog to promote my book and talk about the history behind the story and the writing process but that would probably take away from the actual writing of it. Besides, I should probably get an agent first before going the self promotion route.

What does everyone think?

anyone?

Strange how things look so different once they're behind you. I miss Boston, not all of it and I don't want to go back but I find myself thinking back to that city. I miss South Boston because things seemed so much simpler then. I remember having a lot of shit to deal with there so it wasn't all that different, it was tighter and familiar. I still feel like a stranger here. I probably will be for a while. I'm still washing the taste of KT out of my mouth.

I hate what's happened to C. Maybe during the week away in Maine she got used to not having me around and hasn't shown much interest in bringing me back into her life. We left on great terms and I believe she's been busy but the two times we've talked it seemed like even talking with me was a chore. We made plans for sometime this week but only as an afterthought. I'm not sure if it will ever happen.

We weren't dating and I know she sees several people, I just realized how much I enjoyed having her in my life. So many people around her are these emotionally different or broken people that they take up so much of her attention. I don't feel near what I used to so maybe I'm not that important anymore.
For a while it was just her and I and then people started to slowly creep in. I miss her. I want to see her again.

I don't mind working but I hate waking up early. Once I'm moving everything seems ok. It's good to be back at work, rush hour doesn't seem so miserable here as it did in Boston.

The new place is very low key; jeans and t shirts are common though I noticed no one had any problem working, a good thing since I just wanted to immerse myself in it and not spend the day chatting with anyone.
As is my custom, I was hit with exhaustion a couple hours after coming it. I could feel myself dropping off but fought it. At one job I fell asleep during the interview and still managed to get hired. I got enough sleep so it shouldn't be a problem but damn, what I wouldn't do to get back to bed.

I didn't know anything about the area so at lunch I stayed in, promising myself a nice fat pizza if I made it through the day without problems. I got restless and, as everyone disappeared to eat, I began writing on Post Its, picking up where I left off in my book. For once I was hit with tons of ideas. In the past, while in the drudgery of the work day there seemed to be some sort of wall that kept me from really putting all the connections together. It's been with me for what seems like forever, I could never identify it but now it seems as if it's disappearing. My mind is sharper, I'm more active, able to take on more than I ever did and doing it flawlessly.

For the past year or so it looked like it was coming apart and now I'm seeing all the things I've always wanted to do but could never put together. I'm getting so much done every day and I'm not burdened by overthinking everything. It just comes out of me like I've always had it. Lunch for me was filling up little yellow pieces of paper to add to my book when I got home.

I categorized resumes, looking at everyone's PhD, MA Ed, RSVP and how much they've accomplished; grants gotten, papers written, books published. Got some good ideas to spruce up my resume. Very few things are permanent, most especially jobs. To stay active you've got to keep looking, going to the better offer. I'm sure with my qualifications I could ask for a much higher price next time and a better position.

But now I'm enjoying my pizza...

Sitting here listen to the comforting hiss of the radiator. So glad the heat's on. Now I can just hibernate and write.

Work tomorrow. It will be good to get back to it. I've accomplished a lot, more than I ever planned on my time off and now I'll get more done now that I'm working.

Got in touch with C. She's been even busier than before I left. We planned to meet this week to go to a show. We'll see how it goes...

It's becoming harder and harder to deal with the smell of smoke. I used to have no tolerance for it at all but since moving here it hasn't bothered me that much. Now my roommate's constant hacking and smoking at every opportunity is really getting to me.

Bitch bitch.

I'm buying things one at a time for my own place. At one point I had enough for a two bedroom house; two beds, couch, tv, furniture, bookshelves, kitchen utensils, pots and pans, sheets, towels, etc but we all know what happened then. If I moved now I wouldn't even have a bed.

It's not such a bad setup here and, as roommates go, I could do a lot worse. I just want to live on my own. Moving in here was just a last minute precaution I ended up falling back on.

I've become very reclusive and have kept to myself because I don't want to hear him talk about my laundry and how he does his every weekend. Never mind that he smells like an ashtray.