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Autumn Autopsies

By:

Wendy City

Hello dear friends and crazed Chicagoans everywhere! Ya just gotta luv Autumn, the weather’s actually semi-normal, you seem to be getting more accomplished via work or play… Outside of the leaves dying off in a beautiful array of shades from ochre to cadmium orange; One should slowly seem to notice how brain cells seem to be lessening as of late. Well, okay what the hell am I talking about? I was recently thinking about a bumper sticker I made for my car about a year or two ago. It states plainly: “If your IQ is the speed limit, please DON’T drive… There seem to be more and more people who suffer from this affliction but do not heed my kindly advice. It truly might behoove Daley to think about doing an IQ census test on some of the main drags in Da city. For instance, I think it would be a wonderful idea if Daley would start his test on Western avenue especially from Fullerton on up to Devon. No one seems to follow the rules of the road as well as it seems people can barely decide if they should stop when the light is three seconds or so into the red. One genius I recall at the Lawrence light still decided to try to go through the intersection… This was of course after the light was well into the turn signal for the cross traffic. Everyone had to wait for this dumb ass to slowly creep his way in the middle of the intersection and then turn! Where’s a Hummer with big thick tires-n-spikes when you need it… Pituitary driving decisions seem to be becoming an epidemic in this town, kind of makes you wonder…. Just what the hell are they teaching these idiots when they went for driving school? I vaguely remember some of the funny-hoo-hoo stuff I had to learn when I went for my license. Dating myself somewhat, It was kind of that fun era of mid eighties Michael J. Fox, ‘Back to the Future’ driving fantasy. I wanted to take off in my little shit-box Mazda and fly in and around the little Sub-Urban streets of my teenage years. The driver’s ed teacher was trying to enlighten us on the IPDE system. The IPDE system of driving is purely this: Identify, Predict, Decide and then Execute. Kind of immediately makes me think of that one hysterical Simpsons’ episode where Homer is driving and singing a version of the Flintstones’ theme song… “Simpson, Homer Simpson, I’m as happy as a clam could be, Simpson, Homer Simpson, He’s about to hit a Chestnut tree…” As you can picture what came next, here. You know it’s not even so much the Yuppie problem of cellphone-idis, it’s really more of a problem of un-conscious driving. Foot on peddle, hand on wheel, hand descreetly attached to my l’il cellphone and eyes quasi dilated and transfixed on the traffic surround. Is it just too difficult to possibly make a concerted effort to be 100% conscious? There’s at least a Starbucks or Caribou Coffee on every other corner it seems in the city… Everyone should at least have three or four bucks on them for their double decker, high powered Cappucino? Maybe the media’s been putting too much of the kybash on caffeine consumption. Some caffeine is actually good for you, not only will you be more alert but you’ll be up to 45rpm instead of 33. This is probably a much better state to be in than a drooling zombie with one finger scratching your nose. You also have to wonder if these people even ever think of the consequences. These being as mentioned, wrapping around trees or mailboxes or rolling over some recreational biker cruising on a main drag. Speaking of biking, this truly is one of my favorite things to do in the summer and early fall. Not only the wonderful semi-fresh air swafting through your locks but the death defying challenge of not getting your ass mowed down making your way to the North shore bike paths or the drive’s path. The drive’s bike path… Wow! Better have yourself in tip top shape before you take the plunge there… I never forgot my first test pilot run down Lawrence to LSD’s path, outside of trying to beat out the unconscious bus drivers you really got to watch out for the “I’m-always-late” yuppie in a beemer with cellphone-idis who just has to do his wheelie-style turn right in front of you to get onto the drive. By the time you’re on the LSD Bike path, there a new concern to take heed to. This would be Marathon Mike or Marathon Mary. You’ve seen these type before, perfect bodies in the whole ensemble from the Sport Authority clutching their trendy sleek container bottles of Gatorade doing an average of about 40 plus miles and hour. They whiz precariously by your little BoHo cycle while you worry about churning your cherub like legs ever so slowly on the peddles. The closer you get to Lincoln Park and the Gold Coast strip this gets worse. Pretty soon you feel like an alien invader coming from da nort’ side Joe and Mary six-pack club amidst the beautiful and trendy donning their hundred something dollar size two biking suits on their probably six hundred something dollar super bikes. After while it seems your senses swell with that I’ve had enough “Cosmo” cycling… I wanna go home where normal people coast on their average ‘Target” or Kmart Huffy special and their chunky little frames are balancing with some unknown scientific precision on their tiny but tiny bike seat. Soon before ya know it, the glorious Autumn daze of clear roads and somewhat comfortable bike riding is to succumb to another glorious Chicaga style winter. Where there’s that glorious pile of grey to speckles of white mucked over snow everywhere you go. Where you gotta forsake your cute little Doc Martens for the Yukon Joe Sasquash boots to help you straddle Daley’s fabulous plow job. I know plowing is expensive… but can’t Daley possibly make the effort to a least throw some salt down in the allies? Yes, Thank God I do have a car with four wheel drive or I wouldn’t be able to skate over and out of my garage and alley. And I love how there’s always this glorious ‘sludge’ pond at each end of the alley so your whole car can really get scary dirty. Like a true urbanite as I am, I only like snow on Christmas, if it could melt and completely disappear right after the 25th I’d be in seven-Heaven! Maybe someday when I’m an old bag, they’ll actually revolutionize the roads and pedways where there will be melters and self sucking streets and sidewalks to make the snow seem non-existent? Wow, would that be great! Anyhoo, enough chewed thoughts for now. Sit back with your room temperature glass of Merlot and enjoy Mother nature’s color show. C’est La Vie, mon Ami!

Wendy (getting Windy) City

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Up & Coming Above & A Recent Publication below

The lastest novella to be arriving soon!! Is Delusions of Grandeur by NVCAP Artist/Editor herself. A Poignant look at the life of an urban artist going down a different path. Cover design coming soon & Etc. Older books include: Adam Swinford-Wasem was born in Austin, Texas in 1972, was raised in Chicago, and attended Pomona College in the early 1990s. Since then, he has returned to Chicago, where he is currently living, writing, and continuing his education. He reads his poetry at various venues around the city, including David Rubin's Cafe Aloha Poetry Circus, at 5115 N. Lincoln, and John Starrs’ Coffee Chicago venue at The corner of Berwyn & Broadway. Seeing My Mother Off and Other Poems is his first book.