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PROMIC-CON THANK-YOUS
Pitchfork Music Festival
Lollapalooza
Whole Foods
3 Floyds Brewery
Challenger’s Comics
Stien van der Ploeg
Multilingual Chicago
Hot Chocolate and Mindy Segal
Bite Café
The Map Room
Art+Science Salon
Monte Beaumont
The Bountiful Eatery
The Chicago Dramatists
Danny Resner and Sam Zelitch
PRP Wine International
Mojo Spa
Groupon
Music Box Theater
Arts and Spirits
The Second City
CorePower Yoga
Theo Hahn
Nespresso International
Michael and Michal Salon
Darren Stephens
SWIG
UnaMae’s
Lowes
Genesis Art Supply
Fringe Salon
Steppenwolf Theater
Matthew’s Mobile Massages
Class Ring Barbershop Quartet
James Schroeder
All Write Already
Chicago Zine Fest
Cool Classics!
Curbside Splendor Publishing
Essay Fiesta
Metro Chicago
Poetry Foundation
Story Club
Graham Crackers Comics
Kapil Khanna
Tom Urwin
Car Park Records
XEX Salon
Jeni Crone
Dan Grzeca
Aaron Renier
Jeffery Brown
Corinne Mucha
Ben Bertin
Verizon Wireless
Nina Yarns
Quimby’s Bookstore
Rick Kogan
Emporium Bar
Billy Sunday
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“No Nicer Witch Than You,” submitted by Agent Smellitch
Come to Promic-Con TONIGHT! The beer, wine, and whisky will be flowing, and the cupcakes will not taste of tannis root. Details here!For your edification, ladies and gentlemen:By the time I reached high school, I was still afraid of women. This was because the evidence pointed with an almighty finger toward the fact that women were evil. My reasoning was twofold: (a) my father hated my mother and (b) every time a woman tickled me on purpose, she was harshly scolded.“Give me a break, Lynn!” my father would shout whenever my mother was trying to cast a spell on him, summoning hoards of demons to feast on his innocent soul. To this day, it’s a wonder that my father has any soul left. But believe me, he’s a strong man, and he still has plenty of soul.When I was ten, my sister told her best friend Jessie where I was most ticklish. “Under the arms and around his waist,” she said on a car ride to Cape Cod. I pretended to sleep in the front seat, but I heard every word of the conspiracy. The two girls giggled between uttering an incantation, and my mother asked them to quiet down.On a dusty easy chair in the house we rented, I lay in my T-shirt and swimsuit with my hands up over my head, waiting for my mother to put on sunscreen so we make our first beach trip. Rosie had been chosen to apply sunscreen to my mother’s back, which would take at least five minutes. This left Jessie and me in the living room alone.Like a black cat in the night, my sister’s best friend imperceptibly crept across the room until she was kneeling directly at my side. I had no idea what was about to happen, but with my armpits exposed I was powerless. Later on, my mother would intervene and send Jessie out to the car. She would sit me down and ask me if I knew what sexual harassment was. But I wasn’t listening. I was trying to figure out how to get this demon off of my soul.In high school I joined the drama guild, the only place in school where expressions of repressed teenage sexuality were encouraged. It is important to note that the Puritains outlawed theater for this reason. In my time as a member of public school theater, I portrayed: a philandering fiancé, a suspected father of an illegitimate child, and a pimp. It is no mystery how my soul came to be corrupted.But then the other reason that Puritains outlawed theater was because they thought it turned women into witches.Case and point, when Kim asked me if I would be her date to prom that year, I thought some black magic was being enacted for sure. To begin with, she was a senior and this was HER PROM. Why would she want to go with me, a whole grade younger? And, if it was true that she really did want to take a junior to her SENIOR PROM, weren’t there several better options? Why not take Craig: he was way smarter than I was and much better at drums. Or Jesse: he worked out and had enviable arm strength. Yet Kim was dead set upon me. And the obvious reason why? I was a virgin.Did Kim know this? I thought I kept it pretty well concealed. I had been careful to avoid getting wrapped up in teenage Satanic rites ever since my sister made me watch The Craft and tried to perform “Light as a Feather/Stiff as a Board” on me in our mother’s living room. But the trouble with witches is that you don’t always see them coming. Sometimes they’re disguised as something completely different and you don’t know it until you’ve been transmogrified into a shrew.My usual precaution against witchcraft, perceivable to all others as crippling social anxiety, was to keep my secrets to myself and never let anybody get close to me. Especially any member of the opposite sex. Only girls could be witches.This tactic had proven successful for sixteen long years. Against individual witches I was invincible. But, regrettably, I had never tested my powers against an entire coven of witches.I told Kim that yes, I would go to her prom with her, although I found it suspicious. And it turned out my suspicions were justified when, later that day, Lesley, the hottest girl in the drama guild, also asked me out to prom. I was dumbfounded. Two prom invites on the same day to a prom that wasn’t even my prom?! What was happening to me? Surely these two women had spoken with one another, but the real question was were they witches? Together?!I told Lesley I had to give it some thought. What I really meant was I needed some time alone to practice my anti-magic. What now seemed obvious to me was that these two women were in fact witches, but belonging to rival covens both competing for the heart and body of the one remaining virgin at North Andover High School.So what was I to do? The demon had been the scent of my blood and my fate was already sealed. I was to be enslaved to a hellish eternity at the hands of some witch, but it was merely a question of WHICH witch.So I chose the hot one. Duh.And boy, was she HOT. I gave Kim some lame excuse about needing to figure out my life right now, and that I thought Lesley was where my future was. But at the same time I was wondering: What was I doing with Lesley as my prom date? I was such a dork! Her prom dress was this form-fitting, strapless red number with white gloves that went to her elbows. I wore a tuxedo with a vest that my grandfather made me, from a pattern I CHOSE that looked like a graphic novelist had thrown up on a piece of fabric. Mega lame.I did have this really cool monocle, though. And I bought Lesley some candy cigarettes on the way to the Danversport Yacht Club. I thought that was pretty classy.Lesley complained about how bad her prom had been exactly one year ago. Her date had made her drive and had ended the night trying to sprinkle holy water into her face. From hindsight I don’t know why I didn’t recognize these obvious clues.But I must forgive myself, as I was under the spell of a very powerful minion of the devil, one who had beaten out another very powerful minion not with any sort of magic but just by being HOT. And with the other minion out of the way, she was free to practice her dark arts as she pleased. For her first spell, she made me fall madly in love with her.There’s no way Lesley didn’t know how in love with her I had was. This was the closest I had ever danced with a girl before, and I remember becoming aware of the unexpected changes happening in my boxer shorts. But I somehow didn’t care! The room was spinning, people were laughing! I saw Lesley’s fellow minions cackling and grabbing at me to join them. I saw Kim with her new date, casting me a bitter smile. And when we were tired, the chocolate mousse was delicious but tasted strangely of tannis root.I drove Lesley home to her house in the deep, deep woods of our Massachusetts farm town. On her front steps we hugged closely and kissed each other’s cheeks. She explained there was an after party she due at, with a man there whom she would be forced to copulate with. Satan? I was pretty sure it was Satan.On her steps I left her to prepare herself for bearing the anti-Christ. Alone now, I drove myself home, wondering why I had at last been spared? Had my virginity been rated at too low a price? As I said, my father hated my mother, so I already knew the truth about marriage, divorce, and life after love. Maybe they wanted a stupider virgin.Or maybe the witches were saving my virginity, to be deposited and untouched for the next four years, until such a time when it would be taken by a practicing Wiccan (true story) and kept forever in a glass jar filled with cedar branches and amphibian innards.Who knows? I don’t claim to understand how magic works.
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Notes “Prom Nerd,” submitted by Secret Agent McDPromic-Con is TONIGHT at the SAIC Ballroom! Tickets available at the door. Details available here.
Secret Agent McD (826CHI volunteer!) delved into the recesses of her memory and wishes to bestow upon you the following:
It’s every nerd’s deepest, darkest secret that they love Prom.
The dresses! The parties! The dancing! The excitement of finding a date! The freedom! The chance to dress up for a night and pretend you are more attractive, more popular, more everything.
Or maybe it was just my deep, dark nerd secret.
CLASSOF97WHEREYOUAT????
Three weeks before senior prom, and I was pumped (secretly). I had my dress, shoes, a corsage, dinner reservations, after-party plans, and an extended curfew. All I needed was a date.
Having broken up with my boyfriend the month before, I was feeling particularly optimistic that the fortunes of amore might smile on me in time.
A friend called. Would I go with him? Sure, why not? He was fun. We made each other laugh. We had spent countless hours deconstructing Frank Zappa songs while working at a local pizzeria. He was willing to color-coordinate his cummerbund and my dress. Score.
He had, however, just broken up with my best friend. But, whatever.
“I’m going to prom with him? Is that ok?,” the aforementioned best friend asked during Chemistry, in reference to my recently dispatched boyfriend.
My unfailing Midwestern politeness made it physically impossible for me to say no or suggest that unintentionally swapping ex-boyfriends for prom might be ill-advised. I wish I had been born on the East Coast.
My color-coordinated date picked me up right on time. Cheese-click-click-goodbye-and-we’re-off.
Prom was at a state office building downtown. If you think that sounds incredibly boring and the sign of a desperate prom planning committee, you’re wrong. And also a little bit. The exterior of this building was all glass, some kind of an architectural achievement for a vanilla state capital. And it had a large, open atrium full of tropical plants, hence its appeal to the low-on-inspiration prom committee. Because it was all glass, it leaked like a Frank Lloyd Wright house. I should also mention that it housed the state’s branch of the Internal Revenue Service. Dancing to late 90’s rock, while dodging plastic buckets of leaking rain water in the shadow of tax law tomes and adding machines; sexiest. prom. ever!
We met friends in the parking lot and streamed into the tropical atrium, replete with paper decorations and a phalanx of mildly to very uncomfortable teachers. A friend of mine decided to wear leather pants and eye make-up, because that’s the kind of thing that makes already uncomfortable teachers really crawl out of their skin. He was handed a detention immediately upon entry. The justice practiced by small town Catholic high schools is swift and unflinching.
We piled together with our friends for a group picture in front of a velour-ish background. Sublime was playing; we hit the floor.
My friend and I danced awkwardly to the next slow song.
“Maybe we should ask them to dance,” he gamely volunteered.
Once again, my Midwestern manners took common sense right out of the equation. “That would be nice,” I replied too enthusiastically.
By the time my brain came to understand what my eyes saw transpiring behind the giant fern, my friend was barreling toward my mid-section like a line backer. “Ornot,” he mumbled as he pushed me back a good five yards. Too bad we didn’t have a football team.
Much like the uncomfortable teachers with detentions in hand, the profane diatribe I unleashed in their general direction was swift and unflinching. Why was I so angry? I hadn’t even really liked him when we were dating.
Suddenly, my leather-panted friend appeared and pulled me back to the dance floor. We jumped around to the Violent Femmes.
“Forget them,” he screamed over the pulsing speaker.
We stopped dancing and wandered toward the glassed-in offices, musing on what it must be like to work there. Boring. Insufferable. Stifling. Nothing like the lives we envisioned for ourselves in the months and years ahead when we would finally escape. But in that moment, and the months that followed, we were just young, cocky, naïve observers. Watched by adults whose fear of the world we had not yet come to understand.
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Notes A charity art auction to benefit 826!Florida-based Baterbys Art Gallery has partnered with 826CHI and will host a charity art auction this coming Saturday to raise funds for our creative writing programs.
Up for auction are over 400 pieces of fine and decorative art works, including those of Pablo Picasso, Marc Chagall, Salvador Dali, Joan Miro, and Henri Matisse. Also up for bids are works by America’s premiere pop artist, Peter Max, international art sensation Alfred ‘Alex’ Gockel, and the figurative muses of Pino, Tomasz Rut, and Gary Benfield. Works by popular and upcoming national and international artists also are on the auction block.
Attendees will be given raffle tickets to win assorted art supplies, artists’ books, artworks, and—the grand prize—a Royal Caribbean cruise for two.
This event is free! The auction room of the Chicago Marriott Schaumburg will open at 4:00pm. Complimentary snacks and beverages will be served. Live bidding starts at 5:00pm.
For more information, call 866-691-5945 or email 826auction@baterbys.com.
RSVP at www.wholesaleartauction.com/826chi to receive an additional raffle ticket.
About Baterbys Art Gallery
With over 25 years of experience in the fine arts auction business, Baterbys maintains its headquarters, an art gallery and two warehouses in Orlando, FL. Its inventory boasts of over two million pieces of art, ranging from 20th century masters, national and internationally recognized contemporary artists, and up-and-coming talents. Over the past four years, Baterbys has helped raise funds for non-profit organizations such as the American Red Cross, the Children’s Miracle Network, United Cerebral Palsy, the Susan G. Komen for the Cure, the Assistance Fund. -
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Who could turn away this lil guy!? He IS the droid you’re looking for!
Get your Promic-Con tickets RIGHT NOW.
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Wednesday evening, 826CHI staff is heading to Takito Kitchen’s grand opening for delicious food and ALL THE DRINKS. Come with us! A portion of their sales benefit 826.
No such thing as too many tacos.
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NotesThe Made Shop - The Tiny Book of Tiny Stories (2012)
(Source: likeafieldmouse, via onehundreddollars)
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Notes"So what type of characters do we have in a story? I’m thinking really broadly here…”
“Talking animals!"Field Trip, 35 2nd graders and M Light (via dreezlebub)
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The inimitable Grant Snyder – who as previously given us an illustrated ode to introverts, a visual meditation on book-burning, and Haruki Murakami bingo – is back with a comic look at better bookshelves.
(Source: , via scribnerbooks)
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CHAPBOOK RELEASE, TONIGHT AT 5PM!!!!!!
“An Elevator with Different Floors”
Special guests:
Former NFL star and Chicago native Cecil MartinSpecial honors:
Author Patrick Somerville wrote our introduction! -
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Serious Author Photos: 826CHI Edition
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Notes This is important! (and awesome)Dave Eggers, The Book Cellar, THIS SATURDAY.
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Tomorrow night (JAN 18) is Chicago Zine Fest Bingo Benefit! Last year’s Bingo was filled with chills and thrills including Dave Roche revealing that he was wearing onsie pajamas under his suit and tie. We hope to see you at 826CHI (1331 N. Milwaukee) from 7 - 9pm. $5 gets you multiple chances to win some excellent bingo prizes. We are talking primo prizes here! Plus you will be supporting Chicago Zine Fest.
The Reader thinks you will like it CZF Bingo was featured in the Agenda section of this week’s print edition.
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Notes Guts & Glory: Live Lit for the LionheartedGuts & Glory: Live Lit for the Lionhearted (brought to you by Essay Fiesta’s Keith Ecker and blogger Samantha Irby) features some of Chicago’s boldest storytelling and encourages performers to take creative and personal risks with their writing. Each show is carefully curated, with an eye toward diversity of voices and perspectives. Donations benefit 826CHI!
Tonight’s readers:
Neo-Futurist Dina Marie Walters
Solo in the 2nd City producer Carly Oishi
Comedian and actor Whit Nelson
Performer Jeff Miller
Writer Jill Neumann
KEITH ECKER
SAMANTHA IRBYSo. Tonight. 7pm. Powell’s Bookstore in Lincoln Square. BYOB and FREE.
You don’t want to miss this.
(But in the event that you must, this event takes place the 3rd Wednesday of each month.)
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This one is really old but warrants posting just because of how truly fucking stupid and tacky it is. Also this quote...
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Andrew Bird- Lusitania
Andrew Bird and Annie Clark make quite the dynamic duo.
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Roman Polanski, 1st N.Y. Film Festival, 1963 © Jerry Schatzberg
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Do the overweight agents at S.H.I.E.L.D have to wear skintight leather unitards too? Worst company dress code ever.
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“Because of this, the young man or woman writing today has forgotten the problems of the human heart in conflict with itself which alone can make good...”
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“try a little tenderness as painful as it seems” by ben skinner
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To have a friend: to keep him. To follow him with your eyes. Still to see him when he is no longer there and to try to know, listen to, or read him...
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RENT, Homophobia, and Students Who Regulate ThemselvesBefore lunch today--Kid 1: Man, I hope my college roommate isn't gay. I couldn't even handle that.... ...
