00:10 - August 17, 2002
recreating a neon mountain
Take my quiz, because it's fun. (And because you'll fail; I made it way too hard for anyone to pass.) Go on, I want your pathetic attempts recorded! Go on! (Don't bother with the 'valid e-mail address' bit... just put in [email protected]. They don't notice, and I don't want you spammed.)

By the way, I'm not lazy. I wrote an entry earlier today. Seeee??

At Lincoln Park Athletic Club, where Camille and I climbed today, one climber ordered pizza for the rest of us. I sat eating it and thinking about how one could never do that at Evanston Athletic; we'd have the counterstaff on our asses within minutes, not to mention the ever present sniggering bikers. (They sit pedalling, facing the wall, and every time you fall off, they snigger. Fucking bikers.) Either way, this wall at LPAC is secluded and also outdoors. Nobody who doesn't climb geoes out there. And although in theory anybody driving down Diversey or Sheffield could snigger from the privacy of their cars, you don't think about it that way; you think about it like a nice family-esque little squared in area where you struggle your little brains out to get to the top of this four story wall and everyone else is doing the same. Even with the sound of the L rolling by every fifteen minutes and the bar across the street, it gave one a slightly more 'i'm actually climbing in nature' feeling. It would have worked even better if you were colourblind and couldn't see the brightly coloured holds.

The man who bought us pizza refused our money. When we had finished, he walked over to the corner store, still wearing his climbing harness, and returned with a twelve pack of beer. I thought it might be funny to climb slightly tipsy, but I didn't accept his offer to have a beer for fear I'd get him into trouble. I enjoyed the atmosphere, though, these four people climbing together late at night with beer instead of on a stool in the bar across the street. It seemed a bit more real, though, how, I don't know. Is slurring away picking up women any more fake than recreating a neon mountain in the centre of the city?

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