01:12 - July 07, 2002
immortalized
Tonight was a sort of sharing night with strangers, as people kept coming over and invariably telling me at least some of their life story while I wasdrawing on the sidewalk, again, (this time in Wilmette), with Rachel and Michael. There we had a bigger response, which left us at a loss for words ('are you guys with some kind of organization?' rachel: yes. me: no. (simultaneously) ), but mostly was just a nice feeling, especially when we started offering pieces of chalk to other people so that they could draw with us. I talked to two women about my plans at Boulder; they told me about a young musician that my dad just went to see at Ravinia and his hopes to write a Chinese symphony. I said that I wouldn't mind writing a Chinese symphony, and they laughed. The younger woman wrote 'Love Is All!' in pink chalk, and the older one drew what looked like a tomato with a happy face. They said that they thought what we were doing was wonderful, that it was 'very accepted in Europe.' (what? drawing on the street with sidewalk chalk?) anyway, I let that one pass, and one of them actually hugged me goodbye, even though it meant she got chalk stains on her blouse and had to finish dinner like that. Unusual in fastidious Wilmette.

An agile sixty plus year old woman crossed the road shortly thereafter and squatted down next to Rachel. 'You're an artist, then?' she asked. 'You must be.'
It only took a noncommittal sort of �yes� ish answer from Rachel for the woman to start detailing the sort of art that she did. She�d been painting all her life, nudes and flowers and faces mostly, but when I offered her my piece of chalk, she waved it away. �Oh, keep your...� she trailed off. �I couldn�t possibly.�

So we talked about the cop instead. (One had come by earlier, hitching up his pants and clearing his throat, asking for an I.D. I gave him my drivers license, and he stood and took down the information from it, but couldn�t figure out what to do with it after he had finished, and finally ambled off in the direction from which he�d approached; no further comment.) �Well, here�s what I say to that...� the woman whispered conspiratorily, �kiss my butt.�

We switched to Evanston later, but because of Northwestern University, everyone there is very used to crazy kids disrupting the normal flow of things and most of them didn�t even take a second glance... in fact, one middle-aged man stepped right over me to cross the street. I outlined Michael but was sure not to use white chalk, lest we be mixed up with any unknown murders. A group of college students came out of Kafein and briefly monopolized the chalk; one girl yelled into her cell phone as she scribbled �Angel <3 (i�ve forgotten his name)�, �No, we just finished. There were some people drawing on the sidewalk and I decided to join them. Yeah, just what I said. Yeah. What do you mean, �what�?� A boy stood with his back to me, arms crossed behind his head, and I swiftly traced his shadow on the ground behind him. When he moved, he got a start. Staring down at the pavement, he let out a little laugh. �You�re immortalized,� I said softly.

My mindset is currently in the realm of liking people, liking strangers, liking interaction. It�s not that hard to talk to people, not when you�re in a completely ridiculous situation anyhow, like writing �I Am An Angry Spider� in a town square. Maybe that�s the secret. Let them expect you to be stupid, and then there�s nowhere to go but up, when you start talking. After the angry spider, everything is going to seem profound.

Quote of the Day, courtesy of a passerby in Wilmette: �I guess they�re so bored that they have to find something to do with themselves.� (yeah, that IS the general definition....)

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